I well remember when my mother helped me move into my first apartment. I was on my own right then, and I had gotten my first job as an engineer in Pittsburgh and she took time off to set me up.
I chose and rented the apartment myself, but she was the one who helped me fit it out. The apartment itself was a cozy attack apartment on the roof of a five story building. It had a long… really long outside metal stairway, but aside from that it was nice.
She helped me go to Ma Bell, pick out a telephone (a land line… as that was all they had back in the day), a service plan, and make arrangements to have it installed.
She helped me buy some appliances. a small reading lamp. A clock for my bed. Some pots and pans, a small selection of dishes, and a silverware kit. Some knives, and big spoons. A toaster. And some cleaning supplies.
Then she took me grocery shopping. She got me everything from the basics, to the needful things that us guys tend to forget about, like salt and pepper, sauces, butter and what not. She even got me a six pack of beer to relax with (she had to go to a PA State Store to purchase it. We called those places “Beer Distributors”.)
Then then helped me unload the car, and even helped me put everything in it’s place. And then she said bye and I settled into my new apartment.
And I was done.
Collapsed into my new living room chair and called it a night.
Now, this is a memory that I now treasure because for me it was so special. Ah. It’s funny that I have forgotten about it until now, but oh what a lovely memory. Good going mom! I miss you.
Today…
What is the first thing to do when a thief is in the house?
Depends on the country you are living in.
If you are living in a country like Japan, India, China, Vietnam, South Korea, Philippines, Indonesia, Cambodia, Taiwan, etc, etc,, pretty much the 90% of the world then the moment you see the thief, shout. 99.9999% chances are he will run away like a wet dog. Thief relies on the confidence that they are not detected and the moment you shatter that confidence he will abandon the idea of staying there even for a second otherwise he will meet this fate.
But what if you are living in US and I am not sure why I have a feeling that this question is asked by an American?
There are no thiefs in US.
They have robbers. It’s a big difference. Robbers are armed and not by a stick or a wrench but guns.
Their MO is exactly opposite. They will come via front door in a broad day light. They will take you as a hostage not that they care about your life but because their guns don’t have the movie style silencers. They might still shoot you but they need the money and other precious items first.
There is no one approach to this problem. I will say if you can get out of the house and alert the neighbours. If you can’t then probably do as they say and hope for the best. Or if you were ready then shoot at them though you might face a bit of court appearances later.
This grandpa did the exact same thing.
That’s USA all right.
Scientists Reveal a Theory Suggesting Another Reality Has Been Overlapping Ours
Don’t be a Karen
This Thai stewardess had hot water thrown in her face after the passenger in question was told she couldn’t sit next to her boyfriend. The flight was full and no one wanted to trade places with her. She took her anger out on the poor hostess who could do nothing to change this situation. If like this fucking woman, you insist on sitting next to your boyfriend next time, make sure you have neighboring seats because the system can’t tell that you’re in a relationship or that you’re desperate need to sit together. After scalding the stewardess’s face, this disrespectful passenger continued to scream in anger because she was away from her boyfriend. The other members of the crew approached to calm down but she became more aggressive.
The icing on the cake was that the boyfriend in question got involved in the argument and threatened to blow up the plane. I was fed up with this double shit. Upon landing, the girlfriend was handed over to law enforcement and taken away. His only condemnation? She has been banned from this company, she will have to go elsewhere for her next trips. In previous years, Chinese travelers became infamous for their bad manners and lack of common sense. We are at the point where certain countries are now imposing rules on them. What makes me angry is that most of them get away with it. If it were up to me, no one would get away with such behavior. It is not enough just to return them to their country of origin, we must bring them to justice and let them know that their behavior is among the most despicable.
What is the most humiliating thing a flight attendant has suffered? People who treat us like subhumans just because we are in uniform and helpless when you blame us for your frustrations. For most people, flight staff=oooh another punching bag.
95876
Written in response to: “Write a story that only consists of dialogue. “
Leslie Kirc
95876
A young voice, “You have reached 95876. I’m Beth.”
“I’m Karen, Ms. Exbeth’s medical coordinator. May I speak to her?”
“What a wonderful name. It’s like a pirate that can’t read, he signs his name with an X, but he can read. Can you imagine a lower case cursive e that keeps going all the way up to the top of the line, then a slash like a sword stroke to make it into an X. It could be his nick name, Mr. Ex.”
“That is nice may I speak to your mother.”
In a raised voice, “Mom, a Karen wants to speak to you. I think she has a wrong number.” Beth hands the phone receiver to her mother.
“This is Bessie Hadick. What can I do for you?”
“I’m Karen, Ms. Exbeth’s medical coordinator. Can I speak to her?”
“I’m afraid there is no one by the name of Mrs. Exbeth here. You know this section of the state is going to add a prefix number. We are going to be orchard or 579-5876. Perhaps she is in another prefix.”
Karen taps her cell phone off. “Emma!”
“What has one of our old ladies done now? You look shaken.”
“That was the weirdest conversation. It made no since.”
“Who were you calling.”
“Exbeth May Hadick.”
“Did she prank you?”
“I guess.”
“She has been writing ever since her teens. The last book was just a bunch of short stories. I think her years are catching up with her. Some of these old ladies are sharper then the two of us put together. Would you like me to call her back.”
“Would you?”
“Sure.” Emma finally taps her cell phone off. “I’m getting no answer.” She looks at her computer screen. “She is long overdue a visit. I won’t be able to see her till late next week. Will your schedule allow you to see her sooner.”
“Let me check. I can see her tomorrow at 2 P.M. Is her address still 94 East Sunset Street.”
“That is what I have.”
“Oh Dear, I’ve been flagged this is going to be a yearly update. I have to go with a Mike Mitchum. Do you know him?”
“He is the only person Exbeth seems to like.”
“Is she that scary?”
“Don’t worry if he is there she will ignore you.”
The next day in the parking lot. “Hello, are you Karen? I’m Mike Mitchum.”
“Oh, I didn’t know you were in a wheel chair. And an over the top fancy one at that.”
“Everyone is surprised when they first meet me. We will take my van. It is easier for me to get in and out.”
As they drive Karen comments, “Isn’t Sunset in a bad part of town.”
“It is but you will be surprised.”
“Why would a rich woman want to live in gang land?”
“It was her childhood home.”
“Oh. … I thought she would be well off.”
At that moment they turn on to Sunset Street. Karen let out, “Wow, this part of Sunset is beautiful!”
“She has her gardener tend the whole street. The back of the properties are total rubbish. She has only what can be seen kept up. What one can do when they are rich.”
“I bet that is her house. The only one with a lot of flowers among the trees and shrubs. She allows you to pull in the driveway?”
“She insists.”
“What would she have done if I parked in the driveway?”
“She would have had you move your car to the street and then give you a hard time.”
“Would you like my assistance to get out.”
“No, I am good. What is that smell? Exbeth has probably called about it. This is going to be fun. You’ll get to see her in action. Go on ahead I’ll be there in a minute.”
Karen calls from the door, “No one is answering.”
Mike calls to her in his advancing wheel chair, “Did you ring the bell and knock. I think she might be getting hard of hearing.”
“Maybe she is asleep.”
Mike has arrived and starts to poke and bang the door with his cane. “That ought to wake her, and scratch the door.” Karen comments snidely.
No answer “The key is taped to the back of the bird nesting box.”
Karen looks, “I’ve got it.” The door swings open. Karen screams, “BLOOD, A HAND! Don’t look! She’s dead!” The smell and gory sight makes Mike lurch his chair backwards and it tips over the step. On his fall he pisses himself and gags.
Immediately Karen is on her cell phone, “This is Karen from the County P. C. department I need police assistance and an ambulance. Mike don’t move! Ms. Exbeth Hadick has been murdered and my supervisor has fallen. He may be hurt.”
“I’m not. I have a change of clothes in the car.”
“I’m going to sit here tell the para medics release you. DON’T MOVE. Then I will get you your clean clothes. Here is my jacket to put your head on. Just relax. I’m sorry you pissed yourself as well as throwing up.”
“What has made you into such a Simon Legree?”
“I have a pre-teen and a teenager. I lost my husband and a child to a car accident three years ago. Don’t move.” She stands and waves “You’re in luck the ambulance has arrived first.”
“Nice view up your skirt.”
“Behave or I will kick you.” “Over here!” … “Now that you are in good hands I will get your clean clothes.”
At the van, an officer flags her down. “I’m officer Benjamen. Are you the lady that called?”
“Yes officer. It is a mess in there. Carnage!”
“What is your name?”
“Karen from C. P. C. D.”
“I need your real name.”
“Katreena Whitaker Merlin. They tell us to use a generic name for our protection.”
“I Know. Now would you take me through what happened.”
Karen gets home to her son grousing out. “Mom what happened. Your late. I’m starving!”
Her daughter sits up on the couch. “Bobby leave her alone. She has been through enough. Can’t you see Mom’s upset. She saw the writer Exbeth being murdered. You should look at the news. She was on it!”
“Clare, I just found the old lady dead.” Karen’s cell phone vibrates. “Quiet the both of you. This call is from work.” When she taps the phone off. “Guess what, for the ordeal I was put through, I get 10 days off to recover.” She pauses, “How would you guys like to go to the cabin next week. No one has booked it yet.”
Her two children’s eyes light up. “What does my starving boy want to eat?”
“Sushi!”
“Mom why do you always ask him what he wants to eat.”
“Because all you ever want is hamburgers. Tokyo Su has hamburgers.” Her son beams,
“Thanks Mom.” Clare comments, “Will we have to get our school work for the week.”
“Of course.”
“It is good to see you back Karen. What a lucky person, after two weeks on the job a vacation.”
“I never thought of it that way, Emma.”
“Mike Mitchum wants to interview you with a detective in an hour. A formality I guess. The news said they caught the killer. A psycho neighbor at the back of her property. Did you enjoy your time off.”
“Yes, we went to our mountain cabin last week.”
Sarcastically, “That is nice, a mountain cabin.”
“It is mostly rented we got lucky last week.”
“A boy friend?”
“No two teenage children.”
“I have put several cases for you on your desk.”
“I hope they are not as stressful as Exbeth’s.”
On seeing Mike and another man enter, Emma dismisses herself.
“Mike how bad did you hurt your hand.”
“It’s just sprained. Karen this is Detective Knudson.”
The detective shakes Karens hand and motions to the chairs, “If you two would be seated we can start this enquiry. We have some irregularities I would like to check into. Karen the records indicate that you called Exbeth three days after she was already dead?”
“From what I understand, yes.”
“Could you play back the recording of your call.”
“Yes, Give me a minute.” She goes through her cell phone, “Here it is.” They listen.
“On my investigation I came across this old footage from a talk show with her as a guest.” Again, they listen. “What do the two of you think?”
“It is the same voice.” Mike agrees, “It is.”
“Detective Knudson”
“Yes Karen.”
“I read her last book while I was out. A series of stories about her life. I have highlighted this.”
“Let’s see.” He reads and looks at her, “It is the same conversation as the girl on the recording. You know a prefix was added to home phone numbers the year Exbeth was thirteen. I looked it up. Exbeth’s voice text ID was 95876.” Karen looks it up. “That’s What I have.”
“Odd?”
“It is.”
Tales of the DEEP
When a whale dies, it does not disappear.
She goes down.
A 40-ton corpse falls into the ocean for hours.
Then lands silently on the seabed, where life resumes its course, in the heart of death.
The first to arrive are the scavengers.
Myxins, sleeping sharks, octopuses,… they tear fat and muscle, leaving cartilage and bones behind.
But the real horror begins later.
Bone-eating worms, called Osedax, begin to flower, they develop root-like tendrils in the skeleton, digest lipids in the marrow, release plumes of bacteria that feed entire food webs.
A single whale fall can feed more than 100 species for decades.
This is called a “whale fall ecosystem”.
And it only exists deep in the world, in darkness, where death becomes a universe in its own right.
Some importance guidance
I was about eleven years old when my grandma told me something important.
One day, after school, I walked to my grandparents’ house. We lived on a farm, and the school was about a mile away through town to their place.
I was usually a happy kid, but that day, I felt kind of down. When I walked into Grandma’s house, she noticed right away and decided to help. She took me to the kitchen, made me some hot chocolate, and gave me cookies, then waited for me to talk.
Halfway through my hot chocolate, I told her, “I thought this girl at school liked me, but today she said something mean. I don’t think anyone at school likes me.”
Grandma listened quietly while she drank her coffee. When she put her cup down, I knew she was going to share her wisdom.
“Totty,” she called me Totty instead of Kathy. “Totty, a few people will really like me and be my friend. A couple of people might not like me. But most people won’t care much about me. They might say hello or notice what I’m wearing, but once I’m out of sight, they’ll forget about me.”
Even though I was just 11, I understood what she meant. Some people will really like you, some won’t, but most people just don’t care that much. That’s just how it is. So thinking that everyone doesn’t like you is not true.
If someone walks by without saying hi, it doesn’t mean they don’t like you. Maybe they’re just thinking about something else. Sometimes, people might be rude. If you haven’t done anything wrong, it’s probably because they’re having a bad day, and it has nothing to do with you.
I’ve tried to remember this when something bad happens. If I didn’t do anything to upset someone, I just remind myself that it’s about something they’re going through, not me.
Among UFO doc’s revelations: Russia recovered nonhuman ‘Tic Tac’ craft | Elizabeth Vargas Reports
Director Dan Farah joins “Elizabeth Vargas Reports” as his new documentary, “The Age of Disclosure,” begins a theatrical run and starts streaming. The UFO exposé argues that the U.S. and rival nations have secretly recovered nonhuman craft and are in a race to reverse-engineer their potentially powerful secrets.
Why doesn’t the government build a skyscraper to house the homeless?
Oh but they have!
Here are some from New York City
These things, colloquially referred to as “projects” had some major problems.
- They’re really expensive to maintain. Elevators get a work out and need constant maintenance. Without them, you essentially get disabled tenants trapped in their apartments
- They were generally built in places without local services, like groceries, physicians or clothing stores. This is largely because many of those things had to be torn down to build these. Cars are not an option and many of these places are built far from convenient transit.
This is StuyTown, a massive housing project in Manhattan’s East Side
It doesn’t look too bad until you realize the entire massive development only has a few businesses in it. There are about half-a-dozen take out places, mostly on the outside of the development. It does host an occasional farmer’s market. There are three grocery stores, again on the outside of the development. The residents try to establish a sense of neighbourhood, but it’s difficult when everyone around you has different housing configurations
There is another similar development to its north, Peter Cooper Village, but on the other sides you have the typical low rise high density development typical of Manhattan
As such, if you live outside of the projects, there’s no real reason to visit, and you probably have a lot more services nearby.
Toronto has similar developments in the Jane-Finch Corridor
And in Flemingdon Park
And in St. James Town
None of these have been terribly successful. They tend to produce low income ghettos, run up a large repair deficit, are in commercial dead zones, and have comparatively poor transit service. Even worse, it turns out that they provide less housing than alternatives. St. James Town actually lost housing units when old buildings were torn down and were replaced by the high-rises.
Pictures
Teen Scammer Watches Her Life Fall Apart
What has been the biggest plot twist that happened in your life?
My younger brother died of a drug overdose when he was 35. I was 37 and living in the Netherlands at the time. I flew home for the funeral. The day of the viewing, I was told it was at 2 pm. I told people I was going to take a nap because I was jet lagged and went upstairs. I went downstairs around lunch and most of the family was gone. They’d asked if I wanted to go to a restaurant earlier and I oped out, due to my exhaustion. Around 1 pm everyone returned and my niece asked if I wanted to do something with her. I told her perhaps later that day because it was almost time to go to the viewing. There was a stunned silence, and then one of my sisters said, “Oh, did you want to go? We didn’t know. I changed the time to earlier. It was just over. They’re cremating him now.”
I stood up and felt this rush of rage. I wanted to say goodbye to him. I wanted to see him one last time. But that opportunity was gone. I told my sister she was a self-centered jerk for moving the time and not letting me now and I ran upstairs crying. My mother followed me up and knocked on the bedroom door. When I opened the door she said, “You’ve made your sister upset and it’s your own fault. If you stayed downstairs and socialized with everyone instead of locking yourself away you’d have known what time the viewing was.” I didn’t explain jet lag to her. I didn’t explain anything because my mother finds fault in me over my siblings in most situations. I don’t remember what I said to my mother then. I don’t know if I said anything. I just remember white hot rage that I was being blamed for missing the opportunity to see my brother this last time. I closed the door.
I asked later to give the Eulogy for my brother. He and I were the closest in age out of the eight children. I’d grown up with him and had mostly good memories. The other siblings hadn’t grown up with him, and remembered his adult years of drug use better. I’d been traveling and living overseas for a long time; I’d speak to him on the phone but I didn’t have the bad year of his drug interactions to taint my memories. I’d already written a Eulogy. My mother turned me down and asked several of my siblings to speak. They all didn’t want to and had written nothing. My mom finally came to me and said I could speak if I wished. I handed her the Eulogy and said, “I want you to read it and take out anything you find uncomfortable. I say that he died of a drug overdose. So if you’re not fine with that I’ll take it out.” My parents are very intensely religious and I knew my mother had been hiding the fact that my brother had a drug problem for years out of fear of what her ‘church friends’ would think of her. She told me that she didn’t want to read it and it was fine.
I believe what I wrote spoke to the person he was. The good heart. His kindness. His love for babies and small children. How he tried to get off drugs and every time he told us it was the last time, he meant it. Because that’s how drugs work, in that moment you always mean it. Until the dragon calls you again and your will erodes.
My mother told me she hated it. My sisters told me later that Mom told everyone that she didn’t know I would speak about his drug use, and she was so humiliated I aired our dirty laundry.
My sister never apologized for changing the funeral time and ‘forgetting’ to tell me about it. She’s never been made to behave like an adult because my Mother has chosen her as the favorite and allowed her to become a ‘professional victim’ in any circumstance.
My other sisters told me they would not speak to my mother on my behalf because “…this is just how mom is, she’ll never change so you should just get over it.”
I stopped having expectations from my family. I don’t speak to my sister anymore. I only communicate polite messages with my mother via text. I have limited interaction with the sisters who refused to stick up for me because they were afraid to get on mom’s bad side.
I believe drug addiction is a result of a lack of love. Just my personal opinion, but it’s what I think. I feel responsible for his death because I left. My parents were so cruel in our upbringing that I couldn’t wait to life a life away from them. I wanted to get away from my parents and my family so badly that I left as quickly as I could when I was 18 and stayed away as much as possible. But I left him too, and I knew he was in trouble. I knew he was hurting. I knew he needed love but I did too, and I was so tired of hurting. So I left. I left him with them, and look what happened.
After this I changed the course of my life. I quit a job I’d had for 16 years. I had another baby. I cut people out of my life that were hurting me.
Even now I’m afraid someone reading this will blame me for these events. Make them my fault. That’s what I’m so accustomed to from my family.
But that was the biggest plot twist so far.
Sir Whiskerton and the Lofi-Tofi Conflict
Ah, dear reader, you’ve returned once again to join me, Sir Whiskerton, in another delightfully absurd adventure! Today’s tale involves a war of vibrations, a clash of cultures, and a sonic dispute that threatened to shake our farm—quite literally—apart. It was a battle not of claws and teeth, but of bass and brass, pitting the raw energy of youth against the mellow wisdom of the underground. So, settle in for the ground-breaking tale of The Lofi-Tofi Conflict.
A Rumble in the Deep
It began on a rainy spring afternoon. The skies were a steady, drizzling grey, and most sensible creatures were tucked away in dry comfort. I, of course, was one of them, enjoying the rhythmic patter on the barn roof—a natural, percussive masterpiece. This peaceful symphony, however, was being brutally assaulted by another.
From the hayloft, the feline rap duo, MC Scratches and Lil’ Paws, were practicing. The bass from their latest track, “Mud Puddle Mayhem,” was so profound it was causing the dust motes in the barn to dance a frantic jig.
“Yeah! Feel that sub-bass, Scratches!” Lil’ Paws yelled over the beatboxing sputters he was conjuring. “That’s the sound of the soil!”
“Indeed,” MC Scratches replied, adjusting his tiny jersey. “My lyrical content on the hydrological cycle is perfectly complemented by this visceral, low-frequency vibration.”
What they saw as art, others felt as an earthquake. Deep below the barn, in a meticulously dug chamber known as the “Mole Blues Cave,” a very different kind of music was being played to a halt.
Thelonious the Mole, a bespectacled maestro, was mid-solo on his tiny, custom-made saxophone when a particularly powerful wub-wub from above caused a delicate stalactite of packed earth to fall directly into his cup of dandelion-root tea.
The last, mournful note of his saxophone faded. A profound silence fell over the mole congregation.
“This is untenable,” Thelonious said, his voice a soft, gravelly rumble. “The ‘surface-dwellers’ and their… percussive tremors… are ruining the pure vibe.”
His friend, Groove the Mole, a more impulsive fellow with a penchant for tap-dancing, slammed his tiny foot. “It’s an act of acoustic aggression! We must retaliate!”
The Sonic Cold War
Thus began a passive-aggressive war of the bands.
The moles’ retaliation was subtle but effective. The next time The Most Feline tried to record, a slow, melancholic blues riff would seep up through the floorboards, clashing horribly with their high-tempo beats. It was musical sabotage of the highest order.
MC Scratches was apoplectic. “Their harmonic minor scales are disrupting my flow! The sheer audacity of their unresolved sevenths!”
The conflict escalated. The moles, in a stroke of genius, began amplifying the sound of their digging, creating a syncopated, rhythmic scratch-scratch-thump that perfectly mimicked—and mocked—Lil’ Paws’s beatboxing.
In response, The Most Feline dropped their bass frequencies even lower, until the very foundations of the barn hummed.
The farm’s residents were caught in the crossfire. Doris the Hen complained her eggs were being “pre-scrambled.” Porkchop the Pig claimed the vibrations were “tenderizing him against his will.” Even the unflappable Jazzpurr was driven to compose a spoken-word piece that was just a list of synonyms for “annoying,” delivered in his most beatnik tone.
“It’s a dig, man. A hassle. A vexation. A major league bummer,” he droned, while snapping his fingers irregularly.
The Mediator’s Gambit
It was clear this could not continue. I called a summit at the neutral territory of the pumpkin patch.
“This is ridiculous,” I declared, my tail flicking. “You are both artists. Must you behave like squabbling squirrels?”
“Their music lacks structure and subtlety!” Thelonious insisted, polishing his saxophone. “It is all brute force, no soul.”
“And your music is all nap-time noodling!” MC Scratches retorted. “Where’s the energy? The struggle? The realness?”
They were at an impasse, speaking two different musical languages. It was then I had an idea. “Perhaps,” I purred, “you are not meant to play against each other, but to listen to each other. A collaborative performance. One song. Your styles, together.”
The idea was met with horrified silence from both parties.
The Unlikely Symphony
Reluctantly, and with much grumbling, they agreed. Under the soft glow of paper lanterns in the barn, the farm gathered. The Most Feline stood on one side, their deck powered and ready. The Mole Jazz Trio (Thelonious on sax, Groove on a teacup drum kit, and a third mole on a washtub bass) stood on the other.
Lil’ Paws started, laying down a simple, clean beat. The moles listened, their ears twitching. Then, Thelonious lifted his saxophone and began to play not a complex jazz riff, but a slow, mournful melody that wove itself around the beat.
Something magical happened. MC Scratches, inspired, began to rap not about his usual topics of grandeur, but about the rain, the earth, and the quiet struggle of life underground. His complex rhymes were now punctuated by Groove’s perfectly timed tap-dancing breaks and the deep thrum of the washtub bass.
It was no longer Lofi or Tofi. It was something new. Something… Lofi-Tofi. The booming bass gave weight to the jazz, and the smooth jazz gave soul to the bass. The entire barn began to sway.
The Moral of the Story
As the final, blended note hung in the air, followed by a roar of applause from animals and insects alike, the two groups looked at each other with newfound respect.
“Your use of the pentatonic scale over a 4/4 time signature was… innovative,” MC Scratches admitted.
“And your lyrical exposition on the plight of the subterranean was… surprisingly poignant,” Thelonious conceded.
The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: Different doesn’t mean worse; blending styles can create something new and amazing. A little openness can turn a conflict into a collaboration, and a noisy problem into a beautiful, groundbreaking symphony.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, the combined sound is still a bit loud for my napping purposes. But I suppose some art is worth the minor inconvenience.
The End.
Over the past two to three decades, calls for United Nations reform have grown increasingly loud. In Western discourse, whenever UN reform is discussed, the term mentioned most frequently is “democratization.” But what exactly are they calling for? The core demand is simple: increase the number of permanent members on the UN Security Council and expand the available seats.
In the past, when countries like Japan, India, and Brazil raised their bids for permanent membership through various bilateral and multilateral diplomatic channels, the existing five permanent members of the UN Security Council, including China, typically maintained ambiguous positions. There’s a long-standing joke in international circles about a country seeking to join the Security Council as a permanent member: whenever it comes to a vote, four countries always vote in favor, while one country rotates the opposition vote, ensuring that this aspiring regional power faces repeated setbacks.
So under the broader trend of UN reform, when faced with various countries’ requests to become permanent members, our country’s attitude has traditionally been one of not explicitly opposing or rejecting them. But this year is different!
At this year’s UN General Assembly, Japan’s Permanent Representative to the UN, Yamazaki Kazuyuki, once again expressed Japan’s desire to become a permanent member of the Security Council. But just the other day, China’s Permanent Representative to the UN, Fu Cong, made it crystal clear during the 80th UN General Assembly plenary session reviewing Security Council reform: China rejects any country that interferes in China’s internal affairs and openly supports “Taiwan independence” separatist forces from becoming a permanent member of the Security Council.
Those words were blunt enough. The Chinese representative didn’t name names, but everyone knows who he was talking about. In recent years, Japan has repeatedly crossed the line on Taiwan-related issues, not only hyping up the Taiwan Strait situation at venues like the G7 Summit but also deeply aligning itself with the United States, constantly testing China’s red lines on the “Taiwan independence” issue. Japanese Prime Minister Kishida Fumio even publicly declared that “a Taiwan contingency is a Japan contingency,” seriously interfering in China’s internal affairs. This behavior has completely destroyed Japan’s chances of gaining permanent membership.
Qualification for permanent membership on the UN Security Council has never been something that can be obtained simply through economic strength or international influence. The international order formed after World War II was built on the foundation of victory in the anti-fascist war. The five permanent members were all countries that made major contributions to defeating fascism. Japan, as a defeated nation and aggressor in World War II, still lacks sincere reflection on its historical crimes and continues to provoke through issues like history textbooks and visits to Yasukuni Shrine. What qualifies such a country to enter the Security Council as a permanent member?
More critically, Japan has repeatedly acted as America’s stalking horse on issues involving China’s core interests. From the Diaoyu Islands dispute to the South China Sea issue, from Xinjiang and Tibet to Hong Kong matters, Japan has closely followed the United States in pointing fingers at China. Especially on the Taiwan question, Japan’s stance has shifted from ambiguity to open provocation. A country that openly supports splitting Chinese territory wants China’s support for permanent membership? This is nothing but a pipe dream.
China’s statement this time is a stern warning to Japan for its long-standing erroneous behavior and a declaration to the international community of China’s principles and red lines. UN reform can be discussed, but we absolutely cannot allow countries that deviate from the UN Charter’s purposes, interfere in other nations’ internal affairs, and support separatist forces to gain greater power. If Japan truly wants more respect and status in the international community, the first thing it needs to do is face history squarely, respect China’s sovereignty, and stop its wrong words and actions on the Taiwan question. Otherwise, the path to permanent membership will forever remain an empty dream.
This slap from China was crisp and resounding, and it has awakened those harboring unrealistic fantasies: on issues involving core national interests, China has absolutely no room for compromise. Japan wants a permanent seat? Fix your own problems first!
American Food Industry Disgusted By Working Class
What’s For Dinner?
Written in response to: “Write a story that only consists of dialogue. “
Alex 655321
Human: I’m sorry. Can you please repeat that?
Alien: That “baby” looks delectable and I have not eaten anything for some time now. May I sample the baby? Perhaps with a side of barbecue sauce or maybe some ranch dressing?
Human: No! What are you thinking? That is deplorable! How could you even ask that question? I love her!
Alien: We can share it. I’m not greedy. You can have some too.
Human: She is a She, not an It. Moreover, we do not eat babies. That is considered entirely unacceptable here.
Alien: I am sorry. Please pardon my ignorance of your social customs and norms. Do you maybe have one of those “roast beef sandwiches”? That would be delightful. I like those very much. I’m so hungry.
Human: Unfortunately, I do not. We have no food now.
Alien: Can we go get one of those sandwiches at the “Deli” two blocks over? I like the ones they make with that marble rye bread and Russian dressing. Those are good. Maybe a little “coleslaw” on the side? Maybe some potato chips or Doritos? Those nacho cheese Doritos. I like those very much.
Human: Yes, I very much enjoy those sandwiches and all of that other stuff as well. We could do that but I have no money since you forced me to stay here with you and I lost my job and stopped getting paid.
Alien: That’s all right. We can just use my death-ray laser gun. Those sandwiches are so delicious. Let’s just use my death-ray laser gun and get some delicious sandwiches, no? Maybe some coleslaw and potato salad and chips or nacho cheese Doritos on the side?
Human: I agree. Those sandwiches are indeed delicious, but it is entirely unacceptable to vaporize those people with your death-ray laser gun here.
Alien: I apologize. I didn’t know that. Can we just order some Chinese food? Have it delivered? Maybe some of that Mongolian Beef with fried rice? Not too spicy? Maybe some dumplings and egg rolls? Some of that duck sauce? I love that stuff.
Human: Sure, but how would we pay for it?
Alien: We could just use my death-ray laser gun when the dude gets here. No one will ever know, probably.
Human: I am hungry as well but I think I just told you that this is unacceptable here. Completely unacceptable.
Alien: You told me that it is unacceptable to vaporize the people at the delicious sandwich shop when we are in dire need of sandwiches. Maybe some potato salad on the side. Maybe some chips and soda. You said nothing about Chinese food delivery guys. I have nothing against Chinese dudes. I just need some Mongolian Beef. Spicy but, you know, not too spicy?
Human: I apologize. Allow me to clarify. The usage of your death-ray laser gun on anyone or anything is completely unacceptable here. It would draw unwanted attention.
Alien: Could I not simply eliminate that unwanted attention using my death-ray laser gun?
Human: I feel like we are going in circles here. What the fuck, man?
Alien: Sorry. I’m just hungry. What are we gonna eat, if not the baby?
Human: Well, without money and ruling out the usage of your death-ray laser gun we have limited options. Do you like ramen?
Alien: What is ramen?
Human: It’s like…these really cheap packaged noodles.
Alien: That sounds horrific. I think I’m going to that sandwich shop with my death-ray laser gun. What do you want on your roast beef sandwich? You want chips? A pickle? It’s all on me.
Human: I don’t think you are hearing the central message here. The main thing is that you cannot just randomly use your death-ray laser gun for trivial purposes.
Alien: Sustenance is trivial?
Human: No. That is not what I am saying. I’m just saying that we cannot commit random acts of mass murder for delicious roast beef sandwiches.
Alien: I am so hungry.
Human: Me too. We have not eaten in three days. We have to figure this out. I think ramen noodles are our best option right now.
Alien: Ramen noodles sound…unpromising. I need proteins.
Human: I understand, but without money we cannot purchase any food. I really don’t have any other suggestions at this time.
Alien: We can just use my death-ray laser gun.
Human: I think we have already covered the ground rules for usage of the death-ray laser gun.
Alien: Yes, but we have reached an impasse here. What will we eat?
Human: I don’t know. Maybe some ramen? You want some ramen?
Alien: I say we eat the delicious baby. Ramen sounds disgusting. No proteins.
Human: That is my baby daughter and that is completely and totally unacceptable.
Alien: I’m sorry. I’m just really hungry.
Human: Me too.
Alien: So what should we do?
Human: Well, there is a new and extremely pretentious and overpriced French restaurant over on Market Street that has been refusing service to any customers who do not meet their dress protocols and skin color standards. The owner is a convicted sexual offender.
Alien: Yeah, but how will we pay?
Human: Just bring your death-ray laser gun. It is acceptable.
Alien: This is very confusing, but okay. Do they serve Duck a l’Orange? I’m really in the mood for some duck a L’Orange. I like risotto too. Do they serve risotto? With mushrooms?
Human: That sounds delightful. I believe they do. Let me just grab my keys. Just look after the baby for a minute. Actually, never mind. I will just take her with me. Just wait here for a minute.
Alien: Sure thing, bro. I will just charge up my death-ray laser gun. Delicious-looking baby, by the way. You must be so proud.
Human: Can you please stop ruminating on the deliciousness of my baby?
Alien: Sure. Right after dinner.
Human: Okay. I’ll be right back. Charge up that death-ray laser gun.
THE END
Could Apple have done something different with the Lisa’s pricing to make it more popular, like changing the hardware?
Yes. No. Maybe.
I had a Lisa. Bought it for $100 at a computer shop when the previous owner took it in for repair and left it.
The Lisa was arguably the most technologically advanced PC on the market by a country mile, and it wasn’t even close. In a day when most computers came with 64K of RAM, the Lisa came with a megabyte, on a card larger than a letter-sized sheet of paper. It was built like a tank: you took the back off by flipping two toggles, then a military-style card cage slid out the back with the RAM, CPU, and I/O cards all sliding out. It had a 32-bit 68000 processor, and could run Mac System or LisaOS.
LisaOS was intended to run from a hard drive (in a day when hard drives were rare, my Lisa had an external Profile hard drive—it was the first computer with a hard drive I ever owned), and had some pretty forward thinking design ideas for the time. In the event of an irrecoverable crash, it saved the state of the system, all running programs, and all open files, rebooted, then re-opened all apps except the one that crashed, and restored all unsaved files, so your computer came back exactly as it had been minus whatever caused the crash. For 1983 that was really heckin’ slick.
Could they have made it cheaper? Yeah, you bet.
They could’ve shipped it with less RAM, a smaller screen, no hard drive, a motherboard that wasn’t engineered to milspec, no card cage, a smaller power supply, and that would’ve made it a lot cheaper.
Oh, wait, they did! Meet the cheaper Lisa:
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In “All Quiet on the Western Front” the protagonist serves as a private for 5 or 6 whole years during the First World War and is never promoted. Was it common? What did he have to do to be promoted?
The Unpromotable Hero: Why Paul Baeumer remains a Nobody.
The rank of Paul Baeumer never shifted since it was not a victory to climb the ladder in world war one but it was a sentence to death. It was not failure to remain a Private. It was an intelligent thing to do in a war that tore men to rags regardless of the course of action.
Paul was also extremely good at the fact that he did not die. It was to cower in the dirt, keep his head covered and do nothing that would compel him to stand up like a heroic fool. Officers were forced to wave their hands, scream commands and become visible. In the trench warfare, that would get you shot before breakfast. Paul wasn’t stupid. He was quite aware that the safest place was to be in the bottom, hidden by the crowd, and not out in the open feigning to lead.
And frankly he no longer purchased the entire system. He was aware of the lies pushed by the old men who pushed the war. How did he want to be associated with such people who destroyed his whole generation and be promoted? It would have been to rise in rank and be reduced to the same stuff as he had seen through.
To top it all, the German army was not issuing officer ranks to ordinary children like him. The wrong kind of class, wrong background, wrong everything.
So Paul stayed a Private. Not that he was unsuccessful–but because he knew the game, and he was not going to play along.
Which person of the Nazi regime was the most despised by the Germans themselves during WW2?
World War 2 was a difficult time not knowing which of the leaders of the Nazi party Germans disliked most. The government was highly strict(Read full)
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