Here in China, all the kids (say elementary into Middle School wear a smart watch. This watch is a parental tracking device and personal communicator. It has games, movie and picture capability and a host of other features. But all the kids have it.
My daughter has it.
She makes a friend. she bumps her watch with her new friend’s watch and boom! they are both connected. The information exchange is immediate.
Which is really cool. Of course, we can track her location in real time, but the main problem is that she cannot bring it into school, or that it must stay in her backpack.
But I think that it is a really cool thing, and her data and phone plan is siphoned off one of ours so it is no big deal for all of us to use.
What is amazing to me is that this is a THING.
I was surprised with how many friends that she has in her contacts. Jeeze!
All the kids have this.
Oh sure there are a couple of versions, and a couple of makes and models but the one that everyone around us (locally popular) is BRAND THAT YOU all probably never heard of. Eh. Whatever…
It’s how things change.
Life.
Today…
Why has it gotten so difficult to find a primary care physician in the US?
We all quit.
I quit in July 2024. It is no longer morally or financially reasonable to work as a PCP. They do not pay us for at least 1/3 of our working hours, our pay scale is less than our kids’ entry level jobs out of college, we have no life, they stole our autonomy and force us to do unethical things. Anyone who can afford to quit has left already.They take advantage of our moral compass and the fact that we sre iltimately liable for anything that goes wrong and then they screw us. They know we will work until midnight to prevent “the bad things” so they use our sense of responsibility against us. That is a nope.
They will replace us with NPs because they order more tests and do more referrals. This generates a ton of revenue for the system. Plus you can tell them what to do and pay them even less. They recruit new specialists by talking about a “rich referral network” where we are told where to refer our patients. We must justify our decision to refer anywhere else.
I trained for 27 years plus another 2 years of training on practice track. I went to top ten programs. I have multiple degrees and two board certifications as well as additional masters training. Screw that. I refuse to be their hey boy. The only ethical practice is concierge. Find a concierge if you can.
I have not had a physical for about 9 years and I do not have a doctor. Screw all of that BS. I will pay for what I want.
Most of us are done. I now only work addiction medicine at a non profit.
Better start reading up on healthcare. I have zero faith that healthcare will be there for me when I need it. That is why it is important to have a doc or nurse in the family. Good luck with that!
I hope I don’t sound bitter or cynical. I mean—I am—but I am trying to convey this information neutrally.
Pepe Escobar: Massive Backfire: Trump’s Trade War Ends in Surrender to China
Must watch!
Keep in mind that this just came out. Pepe is in HK not too far from me right now.
"The mood in China is defiant, and resistant!"
Everyone in China are making fun of Americans. It’s brutal.
…
What did someone say/do that made you close down your account and go to another bank?
Twenty-five years ago at a Canadian bank I took a jar of coins in to deposit into my account. My previous bank in America would dump my change into a coin counter and credit my account. They DIDN’T want coins rolled to prevent fraud. Not the Canadian Bank. I didn’t know that.
The teller was exceptionally rude. She snarked at me, “Did you think I was going to count it right her? You have to roll it.”
I shot back with, “You don’t have a coin counter?”
“Not here we don’t,” she barked. When I asked for tubes for the coins she said I’d have to buy them Canadian Tire.
I left pissed off. I stopped at a President Choice branch in Zehrs and asked about exchanging my coins for bills. I didn’t have an account with PC, but I was willing to pay a fee if I needed. Nope, no machine, but, the teller said, “I’ve got tubes here. I’ll help you roll them.” I was gobsmacked. I told her I’d do it at home if she could give me the tubes and come back tomorrow. Nope. She insisted. By the time we were done with the sorting and counting I had opened a checking account at my new bank.
The next day I went to my soon-to-be former bank to close my accounts. The teller I dealt with this time insisted I explain why I was closing my accounts. It wasn’t a polite “I’m sorry we couldn’t meet your needs,” or “How could we have served you better?”.
Me: “I want to close these accounts.”
Teller: “Why?”
M: “I beg your pardon.”
T: “We need to know why to close your account.”
I was livid by this point. I told her this bank has terrible customer support, the tellers all act like they’re doing the customer a favor just by showing up, and it’s my bloody money and I don’t need their permission to take it from their bank and go to the competition. The rest of that transaction was done in silence.
If Your Cat Takes Your Seat, They’re Trying to Tell You This…
What is the strangest complaint you have received at your job?
I got a complaint from a lady (I use the term loosely) that “The whole road was flooded outside her house”. I informed her that I was just about to leave for an inspection tour of several surrounding villages, and would call and look at the problem. I had a quick look on our mapping system, and saw that there was a trapped gully outside her house.
I drove to the village, and there was indeed water up to the white line delineating the midpoint of the road. I parked my car and got my spade from the boot, dragging it along the road surface, next to the kerb, to find the gully.
Once my spade dropped a little, I knew that was where the gully was. It was directly under a tree. I dragged my spade over the gully a couple of times, and dislodged the leaves that were lying flat over the gully. After that, it was like watching a bath drain, complete with a little whirlpool, over the gully. Within two or three minutes the water had drained completely from the road, and I took the precaution of shovelling some of the large leaves onto the grass behind the footway, to prevent further problems.
By the time I got back to the office, I hsd an email from her, copied to my boss, and another from him, asking to see my reply before I sent it, complaining that I had scraped leaves onto her grass! I went and saw my boss, and explained what I had done. He agreed with my proposed e-mail, which I then sent. I pointed out that the grass I had put the leaves on was part of the public highway, even if she did mow it, and that the leaves were from her tree, but I would not, on this occaision, send her a bill for my time spent clearing her leaves from the public highway, and suggested in future that she should sweep up the leaves and compost them, as allowing them to fall on the Highway and cause a public hazard, was contrary to section nnn of the Highways Act 1980.
We got no further complaints from her…
Heavenly Peanut Butter Pie
Ingredients
- 1 (8 ounce) package cream cheese, softened
- 1 cup peanut butter (creamy or crunchy)
- 1 cup powdered sugar
- 1 (8 ounce) container frozen whipped topping, thawed
- 1 (6 ounce or 9 inch) prepared graham cracker pie crust
Instructions
- In large bowl, beat cream cheese until fluffy.
- Beat in peanut butter and sugar.
- Fold in whipped topping; spoon into crust.
- Refrigerate until chilled, at least 5 hours.
Attribution
Pampered Chef
~Other Worlds~
Submitted into Contest #283 in response to: Write a story that ends with a huge twist.… view prompt
Jim Parker
~ Other Worlds ~
Wisty removed her prosthetic hand and placed it on the seat. She had it on for the last two days and it was wearing on her. Then turned to Shewuma and asked, “So. Chieftess?”
Wu hopped up next to her and sat cross-legged. “My father was chief, and my twin brother and I were his only children. But we had the sacred lineage and were turned. We both had to give it up.”
“Do you regret it?”
Wu thought about her life and smiled. “No, not at all. I had Enoch. Now I have Debbie and Jimmy and David E. and Tippycat and the rest of the family. And now I have you. Do you regret being a witch?”
Wisty sat up straight. “No. I can’t regret doing what I was born to do.”
“Bingo,” Shewuma responded.
“How did you meet Jimmy and Debbie?”
Wu grinned and patted Wisty’s arm. “You’re going to love this story. Then you can tell me all about how Jimmy and Debbie are on their way to save the world. I miss them so much.” The stolen school bus of Hopi Indian Spirit Warriors and Wisty the witch drove through the night followed by David E. and the Wolf in Wisty’s Dodge Dart, while Wisty and Wu got to know each other. Whew! What a day. What a year. They were on a long and treacherous road, but things were finally coming together. Today life was good. They only stopped once at a rest area as dawn was breaking so everyone could pee.
Luce parked the bus in Corrine’s driveway right behind David E. and Wolf in the dodge. She pulled the lever to open the side doors just as David E. walked up accompanied by Wolf.
“Wolf!” hollered Wu.
He stuck his head in. “Yes, Chieftess.”
“This forest is teeming with game. Go get us a deer or a feral hog. Be discreet. There’s a Trans Am by the barn. My bow is in the trunk. Spare keys inside the gas tank flap. Take one hind leg and give it to Daniel and Corrine the owners, and we’ll eat the rest. Luce.”
“Yes, Chieftess.”
“There are chickens out back. Gather the eggs. Find the kitchen and I’ll meet you there to make some food.” Then she stood up facing the back of the bus and addressed her crew of Hopi Kachinas. “The house is big inside and there’s a barn and a shed out back. The Eagle will help everyone get settled. We may be here for a few days. We’re near Choctaw land, so everyone be respectful. And when ….” Wu stopped talking and was peering through the windshield.
David E. stopped his doting on Wisty and looked to see what was up. Daniel was running across the yard toward the bus. His face was somber. Wu could already smell his anxiety. “Something’s wrong,” said Wu and ran out to meet him.
When she reached him, he said, “It’s Dermott.”
Wu cut him off. “Where?”
“The loft.” In a blur she was gone.
David E. and Wisty came up and asked Daniel what was wrong. They turned and hurried to the house. “It’s Dermott. We found him. He’s bad. It’s like he’s sick and he’s unconscious.”
Wisty broke into a trot. “Let’s hurry!” David E. brought up the rear, limping as fast as his cane would take him.
Wisty entered the loft and saw Dermott on the loveseat in a fetal position. He was pale, shaking, and unconscious. Shewuma hovered over him, checking his temperature and trying to bring him around.
Corrine stood by, hands clasped and lips moving. Wisty realized she was praying. She asked Corrine, “What happened?”
Corrine was clearly shaken as she related the events of the past hour. “Dermott had been remote viewing Jimmy and Debbie all morning, keeping an eye on them. I was in the kitchen when Dermott called my name. I said, ‘What?’ Then he screamed. It sounded excruciating. It made my skin crawl. Daniel and I ran up the stairs and he was on the floor squirming and rolling back and forth. He seemed in agony. Then he just curled up. We put him on the loveseat. Daniel has been trying to call you guys since it happened. I’ve been here with him the whole time. I was about to call 911.”
Shewuma said, “911 can’t help him.”
“Yes,” Wisty agreed. “I don’t think it’s physical either.”
Corrine choked up and lost her train of thought. Daniel put his arm around her and continued, “The dogs all started barking so I went outside and saw you guys driving up.”
Wu checked Dermott’s pulse. “How long ago did this happen?”
“About a half hour ago. Maybe more,” said Daniel.
Wisty pulled up his “Hitman” T-shirt and put two fingers on his third chakra near the solar plexus. As soon as Wisty touched his skin, she snatched her hand back as if receiving an electric shock. “Shewuma, he’s under psychic attack. There’s not much time.” Wisty spun the office chair around and sat down. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she slumped down as if instantly falling asleep.
“Psychic attack?” asked Corrine.
Wu set her jaw. Her mind was racing as she explained. “Someone is trying to kill his soul.”
“Kill his soul,” Corrine softly repeated to herself.
Shewuma ran to the railing. “LUCE!”
Luce stepped out of the kitchen. “I’m here, Chieftess.”
“I need the Eagle. Now! Stay with Corrine and help her with this boy.”
“Yes, Chieftess,” and she ran to the back door.
Wu wanted the Eagle there. Besides his Kachina training, the Eagle was a gifted medicine man and had worked extensively with Mystic Devas in Northern Asia. He could be of great value in such a potentially dangerous situation. She turned to Daniel. “In my closet is a plastic trash can of different plants. Are you familiar with Mugwort?”
“No. What does it look like?”
“Never mind. Just bring it all. Spread it around him. Understand? Just spread it on the floor. GO!” And he went. Mugwort was used by witches for its protection and healing properties. In psychic warfare, any edge could mean the difference. “Corrine,” she said as she took her by the shoulders to get her full attention, “I need your nurse training now.”
Corrine shook out the cobwebs and steeled herself. “What? Anything.”
Shewuma wrapped her arms around herself, let out a deep breath, and said, “Don’t let him die.” Then she collapsed to the floor on her knees.
Wisty had never left her body so quickly and felt disoriented. But the globules of light dancing on her skin and the glistening hands flexing at the end of her arms told her she was in her etheric body. The twinkling astral landscape was empty. Somehow she was alone on this plane. She pictured Dermott in her mind and willed herself to his presence. But nothing happened. She spoke his name and said a spell to bring his soul to her. It too was unsuccessful. Even in otherworldly planes there was a natural order and rules of governance. There had to be powerful forces at work to suspend the natural law of her magiks. She wondered how she could find him. Then an idea came to her. Willing an opening of a portal to the physical world, she passed through it into the loft at Corrine’s house. In this state she would be invisible to them. But no matter. It was Dermott she wanted. On the floor sitting back on her heels, Shewuma was in a trance. There were stems and leaves scattered around the floor. It smelled familiar. Of course. Mugwort. Good thinking, Shewuma. Wisty felt its properties enhancing her psychic defenses. Then she saw Corrine and Luce performing CPR on Dermott’s now lifeless body. Time was short and she couldn’t afford to get rattled, so she buried her emotions and remained focused. There was one sure way to find him. She searched for the Sutratma, or life thread. It connected his physical body to his lifeforce in the astral world. Instead of a silvery gleaming cord flowing from his midsection, she found a black brittle fiber pulling violently at his abdomen and extending through a dark hole. That was her best chance. Wisty took hold of the corrupted lifeline and followed it into the blackness. Descending, always descending into the lowest depths of the astral planes. It was not safe this deep even for someone with her knowledge and experience. Many an astral traveler had ventured too far into the lowest realms only to be possessed, driven mad, or lost forever. There was a faint light in the distance. As she came closer, she could see it was Dermott. For the first time in all her considerable experience of astral projecting, Wisty was afraid. Dermott was being attacked by a group of what she called astral wildlife. Nasty creatures of the lower realms whose sole purpose was to savage or steal the life force of others. But this scenario was impossible. Astral vermin hated each other as much as they hated everything else. They would attack anything on sight, even their own kind. Yet these monsters were working together. Ugly, harpy beasts tore at his astral flesh and sucked at his soul while rat-like parasites had severed his life cord and gnawed at the remains that trailed from him. His physical body was dead now and his soul would soon be lost as well, floating through this accursed place until it was consumed entirely. She visualized herself surrounded by love and light, building a psychic shield, and went to him. The vermin seemed appalled by her presence, but they were not repelled by her defensive sphere as she expected. Dermott’s eyes were wild and pleading for help. She grabbed a harpy that had its claws sunk deep in Dermott’s shoulder. They were small but powerful beings. Finally wrenching it loose, she hurled it into the darkness, then wrapped her arms around Dermott’s neck and held on desperately. To let go would be the end of his existence. Kicking at the vermin had little effect and she didn’t know how else to fight them. Soon the harpies were attacking her as well, ripping at her astral flesh and stealing bits of her lifeforce. The rats left Dermott and moved on to her life thread. Her silver cord turned gray and began to splinter as the parasites viciously gnawed at it with their grating teeth. There was a chance, but it was a longshot and very dangerous. Besides, she needed her arms to do it and to let go of Dermott would be his end. She had grown weak and was losing focus. Thinking of David E., she called his name out loud.
Just as all seemed lost, one of the harpies screeched a hellish noise and his body burst into flames. Then it dissipated into nothing. Wisty looked up and in the distance like a glorious angel, Shewuma approached, shining with a golden sheen. In her left hand she held a bow of white light. She fired a rapid succession of blinding arrows until all the astral atrocities were ended. Wisty’s strength was spent, and her life thread was now a piece of frayed string.
“Hold on. I’m coming.” Shewuma said to her mind. But Shewuma wasn’t going to make it. They both heard it. A vociferous rumbling buzz rolled through the darkness, filling them with dread. Shewuma could see it now. A horde of evil astral beings. Thousands of negative entities approaching them like a demonic wave. They were called Negs in Kachina lore. Shewuma spent many years training to navigate other worldly realms, deal with spirit entities, defend herself psychically, and fight Negs in the astral world. But this was beyond anything she was ever taught. She knew she couldn’t possibly win. There were too many. But they would pay a heavy price. The bow in her left hand and the arrow in her right hand both became flaming swords. “Keep your faith,” she said out loud and spoke a Hopi prayer of bravery. Then a bubble of light came from above and into the horde. The Negs began to scatter and shift erratically. It moved through them like a shooting star heading straight for Shewuma. It was the Eagle. Shewuma could see him now. The Negs had reformed and were bearing down on them. The Eagle reached her side, but there was no time to make it to the floating remains of Wisty and Dermott. They turned and braced to face the black army together. Perhaps by some miracle they could slow them enough to allow Wisty to escape if she were still able. The two looked at each other. Speaking in their native tongue, Shewuma began the song of strength. “Spirits of the light and sky, hear us. I am Shewuma.”
“I am Nuuakhwahu.”
Then they spoke in unison. “We are Holy Warriors. We are Kachinas of the Hopi nation. We are Star Children of the Realm of Man. Help us die well.” Shewuma bowed her head to this noble warrior that she had called to his death.
With a wink and a hint of a smile, the Eagle said to her, “You’re going to love this, Chieftess. A little something I picked up in Tibet.” He began to grow. Ten times, a hundred times bigger.
Together they screamed the Hopi War Cry and met the horde.
Like jumping naked into the snow, the powerful War Cry brought Wisty to consciousness. She watched the Neg army envelop the brave Kachinas. They fought for her and Dermott, and they would die for her and Dermott. Shewuma battled ferociously but was disappearing under sheer numbers. Even with the massive death toll from the Eagle with his colossal size, he was steadily being ripped apart.
A voice deep inside told Wisty she had to do something. She wrapped her legs around Dermott’s waist and locked her feet. Then she held her arms out while visualizing an amethyst knife held by both hands pointing at her chest, and it was so. She had never done this spell before. It was said that none who tried had survived. “Oh well,” she thought. “Nothing ventured.” She spoke out loud with resolve:
Our life is spent, our time has come.
Back to the place that we are from.
I call upon the Powers That Be.
This is my will So mote it be!
She plunged the knife into her chest.
There was a thunderous clap, and in that instant they all woke up back in the loft in their own bodies. Shewuma went to her feet unsteadily. The Eagle was on his knees trying to get his bearings. “Daniel, please help him,” said Shewuma. Corrine and Luce were doing CPR on Dermott’s body. Corrine looked worn out. Shewuma turned to Wisty and called her name. Wisty murmured something unintelligible. Wu slapped her across the face and yelled, “WISTY!”
Wisty opened her eyes, grateful to be alive. “Wu?” She tried to get up and Wu had to keep her from falling over.
“What about Dermott?”
Wisty patted her chest. “I have him here.”
Wu carried her over to the loveseat. “Let her in, guys. You did a hell of a job.” Corrine sat down on the floor exhausted while Luce went to help the Eagle. Ignoring decorum, Wisty pulled her dress up to her waist and straddled Dermott. She pressed against both of his temples while breathing in deeply. Glancing to her right she saw Shewuma watching her intently as she recited a Hopi prayer.
Wisty said, “Here goes.” Wu nodded encouragement. Wisty put her mouth on Dermott’s mouth and willed her soul to breathe. Dermott’s lips began to sparkle and color poured back into his face. His eyes opened. He lurched upward, arching his back and bucking Wisty off the loveseat. Wu caught her midair and sat her down. “Nice reflexes. Thanks.”
Wu pulled her in for a hug. “You did it.”
Holding onto Wu’s neck she said, “We did it, Shewuma. You two saved our lives. Thank you.”
Corrine lay back on the floor and smiled. She was pooped.
Luce leaned over Dermott, cocking her head. He was saying something to her. “Chieftess!” Luce called out in alarm.
“Everyone quiet,” ordered Wu, and she was at Dermott’s side. He grabbed Wu’s arm and struggled to tell her something. “Luce, get Dermott some water.” Wu said it calmly, but her eyes were smoldering. She stroked his head gently. “Tell me everything.”
His voice was raspy and faint. “Jimmy and Debbie. They’re going to die. It’s a trap.”
Donald Trump said he is open to use military force to annex Greenland. What do Danish people think?
Donald Trump is so stupid that he reveals the game constantly, which is rather refreshing. In my opinion the US dominates Europe anyway, and politicians are rarely able to do things which isn’t to the US liking. Traditionally, this is done through the awesome American intelligence services, manipulation, economic pressure and cultural imperialism. These are all soft approaches, sophisticated and has a long track record of actually working. But why use veiled threats and intelligence, when you can just outright threaten people? What an era of mask-off moments, where the true power relationships are revealed.
Future New Gettysburg
The USA will not use military force to annex Greenland, because they don’t need to. What the USA wants is all our natural resources as well as certain measure to be taken to strengthen their own security position.
First of all, the USA wants the undersea cables that goes via Greenland to be protected, and what do you know, suddenly local politicians from Greenland (Kuno Fencker) are suggesting Denmark does more to protect this critical infrastructure.
Secondly, the USA wants the resources, and you’ll probably see that development of Greenland for mineral extraction will happen, and guess what, the people who will get the rights to that, will randomly and through fair and transparent selection processes end up being American corporations, with extremely favorable tax conditions. Vivian Motzfeldt (Greenland Social Democrat and political ally of the Danish prime minister) already said Greenland is open for mineral exploitation with US companies. What an interesting an unrelated opinion to suddenly have.
These things will happen either way, if the USA really want total control over Greenland, what we will do is simply hold an independence vote in Greenland, they will declare themselves sovereign, the US corporations will buy literally everything, and dominate Greenland absolutely, potentially for the price of merely enriching the tiny local population in exchange for all the wealth of Greenland’s natural resources.
If America wants to expand its empire, don’t you worry, our politicians are always ready to bend over, I am just glad that we can stop pretending that isn’t what is happening.
Struggling in the USA | Is Leaving America the Solution to the Cost of Living Crisis?
Is there any way to change China without going to war with them/sanctioning them? Could there be a way to SOMEHOW get the Chinese to overthrow the CCP/CPC/Xi Jinping?
Why on earth would we do that? China is the greatest economic success story in human history.
The Chinese are very proud of their country’s progress. They fully support their government.
China is a peaceful trading nation. Unlike the USA, China has fought no wars since 1979.
China’s BRI is helping over 150 countries to develop. They are very grateful for China’s assistance.
China will change and adapt as needed.
Would make great Tee-Shirt designs
You betya.
What if Russia tried to invade China with nukes?
This incident truly occurred in history. In the 1960s, the Soviets, with an air of superiority, demanded that China submit to Soviet leadership and even attempted to establish a joint fleet and long-wave radar stations on Chinese soil. Faced with this “insult to intelligence,” Chairman Mao had a “deep discussion” with Khrushchev in a swimming pool in Beijing (Khrushchev, of course, couldn’t swim).
Soon after, Sino-Soviet relations deteriorated completely. The Soviet Union deployed over a million troops along the Sino-Soviet border and even threatened to launch a nuclear strike on China.
Mao’s response was firm: if the Soviets launched a nuclear attack on China, the Chinese people would unite and attack the Soviet border, cutting off the Soviet Far East railway, advancing into Siberia, Central Asia, and the area west of the Ural Mountains, including the region west of Yekaterinburg. A new China would be rebuilt on Soviet land. At the same time, to prevent the U.S. from taking advantage of the Sino-Soviet conflict, China would target American military bases in the Far East with hydrogen bombs.
In terms of execution, China planned to use front-line troops from Xinjiang, Northeast China, and Inner Mongolia as the first strike force; troops from North China, Gansu, and regions north of the Yellow River as the second strike force; and forces from Southern China, including Sichuan, Yunnan, Guizhou, and Guangxi, as the third echelon, heavily investing in the construction of uranium enrichment plants, heavy water plants, and munitions factories as core resistance bases.
Even today, the military hub of Chongqing, famous for its hot pot, still has many “air-raid shelter hotpot restaurants.” The mountains in Chongqing have been almost hollowed out, and many of the shelters are built to nuclear fallout shelter standards. In fact, many air-raid shelters in China are constructed this way.
At this moment, the “smart” Vietnamese chose to sign an alliance with the Soviets at this sensitive time. As a result, the Vietnamese were beaten by the Chinese. This is the price “the smart ones” have to pay for trying to profit in the “great power game,” with the Vietnamese paying that price.
Later, Brezhnev, who had gained nothing from his dealings with China, in a fit of impotent rage, chose to invade Afghanistan.
This gave the Americans an opportunity. The U.S. purchased weapons from China, which were then sent through Pakistan to Afghan guerillas, burying Soviet soldiers in the Afghan battlefield and causing the Soviets to pay a heavy price.
The Soviets seemed to have forgotten one thing: any country or nation that dares to negotiate with China from a position of superiority, threatening China with its power, is doomed to failure.
In 5,000 years of Chinese history, there has been no exception.
During the conversation between China’s foreign ministry representatives and U.S. Secretary of State Antony Blinken in Alaska, Yang Jiechi clearly told the Americans: The U.S. has no right to “talk from a position of strength” with the Chinese. If you want a meaningful conversation, both sides must engage with an attitude of equality and mutual respect.
Otherwise… you know, the humiliation from China could ruin your career.
The Chinese people never feared the nuclear threat from General of the Army Douglas MacArthur even when we didn’t have nuclear weapons. We could chase you all the way to your home and take you down even with just grenades!
Who do you think you are? What makes you think you’re so important?
In America, It’s Better to be Poor
I was born in the United States. My mother was a third-generation natural born citizen and my father was an emigrant from the Anglosphere. My only connections abroad are through Quora, and I live in the poorest Congressional district in the United States. I write this essay not regarding sour grapes but regarding improvements for honest people in America.
America, as many people realize, ran a global Ponzi scheme and willfully starved people around the world, especially in North Korea, for being poor, and supports seemingly endless Zionist terrorism, including in jihadist variants.
The more dollars one holds, the poorer one is, yet in the American system, holding more dollars increases purchasing power. As dedollarization takes hold, it will likely become impossible to emigrate without rare skills. Thus, the very real possibility of Americans vanishing into labor camps presents itself, because Americans who made it in the Ponzi scheme tend to be higher-functioning than the ones who did not, and much of the world suffered from our leaders’ behavior. That we had a difference of opinion with those leaders without succeeding under the conditions presented means that we are likely untrusted to contribute to anyone else’s system.
Honesty makes my life bearable: People don’t need much to live okay if they treat each other right. Welfare offices deny applications as a default, even when people are not exploiting the system and simply wish to work. America is a death trap, and though I hope to build a resume and leave, I realize that the increased pace of dedollarization will probably lead to my physical extermination.
Because life was unbearable for honest people in America who did not aspire to riches, the notion that America may end and the world be reborn is comforting, even if Americans who tried to lead honest, working lives find themselves eliminated under unpleasant conditions. Discomfiting is the notion that Americans who have qualifications may be able to leave and live good lives elsewhere, despite having benefited from the global Ponzi scheme: Many of us who have truly been left in the cold may never be able to work it off for a better tomorrow.
The main point of comfort, however, is that these Americans will not be allowed to run Ponzi schemes elsewhere as the rest of us vanish with the miserable world our country built. The honesty of people who were excluded from the USD Ponzi scheme by its managers is striking: The scheme was run out of Manhattan, while the poorest Congressional district in the country is the South Bronx, where I live.
As one might guess, the South Bronx has a strong working-class socialist ethic and though I wish there more things to do and more opportunities, I’d rather be bored to death than amused to death: For me, the prospect of socialist rehabilitation from capitalist unpersoning is the main hope that keeps me going, as things slowly improve.
In America, it’s better to be poor.
INVASION
Submitted into Contest #283 in response to: Write a story that ends with a huge twist.… view prompt
Charles Corkery
Replacing the file, Paul turned back to his partner.
“I didn’t know. I mean I knew it was about ten, twelve years but you…you’re always so frigging precise. It’s uncanny”.
‘Hey, I might be a physicist and an astronomer but, above all else, I’m a mathematician. Numbers to me are like candy to someone like yourself”, Val glibly remarked, pointing at the almost empty, giant bag of M and Ms that lay on Paul’s work station without removing his eyes from the monitor in front of him that, to an untrained eye, appeared to display an impenetrable darkness.
“Horses for courses, my friend. How come you don’t like candy, anyhow?”
Paul resumed his seat and stared briefly at his screen, quickly becoming restless and bored.
“My parents didn’t allow it when I was younger and, as I grew older and saw the damage that sugar did to teeth, I just decided it wasn’t for me”.
“Man, I’d go crazy in this place if I didn’t have something to brighten up my shift”.
Paul looked around their work space eyeing the pristine environment that made up this lab-like habitat that was their “office”. The sterile stolidness, dominated by the two giant screens, the computerised telescopes that were their workstations and which covered the skies above the state of Delaware, only a coffee machine and the low humming refrigerator added a sense of domesticity though one of the earlier shifts had, half-heartedly, hung tinsel around the place in an effort to provide some festive cheer.
Grabbing a handful of chocolate treats, Paul leaned back in his ergonomic chair, staring idly at the ceiling, popping candy.
“Val, do you ever get bored with this job?”
“Sure. And, every time it happens, I think of the money we get paid, partner”.
Apart from the idle chitchat, the room’s silence was broken only by the incessant humming of the fridge and crackling of radio static; the latter being the communication airwaves that connected all other watch stations; one per state across the nation. Each employing two, highly trained scientists per shift in a constant, perpetual state of watchfulness upon the skies above and beyond.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right, Val. We get paid way more than if I was actually working in a lab. But, I mean, don’t you ever think that we’re kind of wasting our skills? All the years it took to get our degrees. I majored in astrophysics, for God’s sake yet, here I am just…watching a frigging screen”.
“In actual fact, if you calculate the time you spend popping candy, making endless cups of coffee and staring at the ceiling, Paul, you probably spend a minimal amount of your working hours actually watching your screen”.
“And your eyes never leave your screen, amigo. I don’t know how you do it. No wonder you need those tinted glasses of yours”.
“Well, I figure this is what the government pays us to do so, for eight hours each day, it’s my duty to oblige. Plus, after so long, it would be extremely difficult for me to drop a hundred grand per year by taking a normal lab job”.
Suddenly, Val leaned urgently forward, his eyes having discerned something on his monitor.
“One o’ clock, Paul. Check it out”.
Startled, Paul crashed down in his tilted chair, eyes returning to his own screen, a duplicate of Val’s, his hand involuntarily releasing a cascade of candy, M and Ms rolling across the metallic floor.
Both screens simultaneously arrowed in on the object identified by Val, images expanding as Paul controlled the direction of the viewfinder on the space telescope that provided them with intimate coverage of the night sky. Within seconds, Paul, among his other accomplishments, a nanotechnologist and an expert in the structure of such things, relaxed.
“Just another boring meteorite. Iron-nickel. I can tell by the regmaglypts, the irregular shaped pits. No problem, unfortunately. That’s the way the cookie crumbles”.
Later, as their shift ended, the spotting of the meteorite and its subsequent passage to Earth recorded in the log, the two men exited their work environment, the outraged cries of their shift replacements echoing in their ears as they slipped and crunched on the candy strewn floor. They grinned at each other as they unlocked their cars in the parking lot, the weak, early morning sun dazzling Paul but not bothering Val behind his dark lenses. Paul lamented.
“Another cold, miserable morning. I can’t remember the last time we had a white Christmas”.
Immediately, Val shot back.
“December 25th, 2002. 1.3 inches fell in Wilmington”.
Paul looked askance at his work partner.
“Do you make this shit up? How could you remember that?”
Saying nothing, Val simply shrugged, pulling up his collar against the chilly wind.
“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, you numbers freak”.
“Yes. Just two days ’til Santa comes”.
“Hey, Val, we need to organise a night out or something. Your wife and mine. Maybe in the New Year. What d’you say?”
“Yeah, definitely, we need to do that”.
As Paul climbed into his brand new Tesla, he, somehow, knew it would never happen. They had been talking about it… for twelve years, five months, two weeks and three days.
The alert came the following day: drones spotted over New Jersey. Reports varied: five, some said, six, others claimed; large, the size of cars according to a New Jersey police chief. Paul arrived for his shift in a heightened state of excitement though Val was his usual phlegmatic self.
The shift they were replacing seemed loath to leave though Delaware had, so far, not seen anything amiss. The unusual happenings in a neighbouring state were causing great excitement within the watchers’ community and the comms channels crackled with constant chatter.
“Can you believe it? Just east of us. Just our damn luck but we’ve been on full alert all day. Washington is saying they don’t know what they are. One eyewitness said they came out of the ocean”, a tired, wide-eyed watcher eagerly reported to the duo.
Alone again, the two settled in front of their screens.
“Val, d’you think this could be for real? D’you think…?”
‘Paul, I don’t believe we should take any notice of mere conjecture but, given the vicinity and its closeness to our own area of observation, I do think that we need to be extra vigilant”.
“Hey, don’t worry, pal. My eyes are never leaving my screen”.
As the night progressed, however, nothing was displayed on the monitors from the space telescope that hovered high over Delaware though, on the various frequencies that shattered the silence of their stations, they listened, enthralled, as word filtered through of several other sightings, maddeningly close to their own area of surveillance and, by shift’s end, the number of reported craft had increased steadily; Washington, despite stating that there was nothing to fear, still unable to identify their origin.
True to his word, Paul had remained watchful throughout the night, an unopened bag of Snickers testament to his attentiveness, and both men, too, were reluctant to leave their posts at the end of their shift, feeling that it was only a matter of time before Delaware, too, became embroiled in the mystery.
Fear, that normal human reaction to anything untoward that cannot be explained, spread swiftly over the ensuing hours. People who relied and depended on their government to reassure them were severely disappointed. Some brave citizens were taking ineffective pot shots at the unidentified craft as their numbers multiplied rapidly. These were not, as first reported, drones. That much was abundantly clear.
Panic followed fear and the roads were soon blocked by the vehicles of those fleeing from their homes, though where to, they did not know, but a mass exodus was taking place in New Jersey. Yet Washington did nothing to assuage concerns, either refusing to divulge the true identity of the spacecraft or simply unable to.
As Paul and Val reported for their shifts on Christmas Day, still, they learned, no sightings had been made over Delaware though New York State and Pennsylvania, both close neighbours, had now experienced numerous craft sightings. The incessant radio chatter confirmed the seriousness of the situation and the two observational physicists studied their screens intently; Paul, finally realising the importance of his chosen profession. Could the nation be under threat from space? The tension was palpable.
Then, an hour before their shift’s end, out of nowhere, an image appeared on their dual monitors; small and faint, at first, but, as it loomed closer, growing ever larger. Excitedly, Paul expertly guided the telescope remotely, zooming in, and gasping aloud as the magnification identified hundreds more craft coming into focus, following close behind the vanguard ship but only serving to accentuate the monstrous size of the lead craft.
“Holy Mother of God. Val, you see that? That’s a frigging mother ship!”
The static of the various frequencies suddenly ceased, all communication cut by some unknown, alien source. Paul, terrified, turned to his partner but Val seemed unperturbed, almost gleeful, pushing away from his work station and turning to Paul, slowly removing his glasses.
“It’s been…interesting, Paul. I’m sorry it has to end this way but, hey, that’s the way the cookie crumbles, right? Happy Christmas!”
Unable to move, Paul stared at the man he had worked alongside for so many years; a man who, after more than twelve years, he suddenly realised, he knew absolutely nothing about A man who, he registered far too late, was, in fact, not a man at all, his bulging, bright red eyes, exposed for the first time, now burning into his own, distorting his vision, the vicious heat melting his very flesh.
Have your parents ever walked in on you?
When I was courting my wife her father was the foreman in the local cemetery and the family lived in the house attached to the cemetery. There was a chapel built in the centre of the cemetery and used for funeral services. When I took my wife to be home after few drinks we would park up behind the chapel for a bit of frisky time. One night while passing the house the wife’s mother saw us but didn’t recognise the car so came out to investigate.
We had just got very comfortable in the back seats,in the dark,in a cemetery, behind a chapel, trousers round my ankles when the MIL came banging on the windows and shouting her head off. I absolutely bricked it . I swear to God I lost 20 years of my life that night.
we’ve been married for 57years now but we still have the odd giggle about that night.
What is it like to live in Phoenix, AZ?
Phoenix is the first place I lived after finishing my university studies. It was an exciting place to live for someone in their 20’s.
Pro’s:
- No snow. This is a big deal as someone moving from the midwest. Nothing to clean off your car or salt to rust the body of your car.
- Good Tex-Mex and Mexican food.
- It’s relatively close to nice to amazing nature. Grand Canyon, Sedona, and Saguaro National Park are within a short drive.
- Cool places that young people like to visit are within driving distance. Los Angeles, Las Vegas, San Diego, and parts of Mexico.
- College vibe of nearby Tempe, the upscale vibe of Scottsdale, suburban vibe of Ahwatukee, or country living out past the Carefree Highway.
Cons:
- There’s no snow, but the summertime heat is absolutely insane. Anything you leave in your car will die. Accidentally left your phone in your car while in a restaurant? Dead. Not to mention your cat or your toddler. Also, don’t leave your gym bag in your car if you use aerosol deodorant unless you want your car to smell like Old Spice for several months (ask me how I know).
- There’s a highly transient population. People come to phoenix for work, but a lot of people won’t stay. Thus, it’s not the best place to make friends. The “local” cultural scene is somewhat lacking.
- Bugs and snakes. You won’t see them everyday, but finding black widows and scorpions in your house is a little terrifying if you’re from the the Midwest. You’ll sometimes see snakes while out hiking.
- Because of how insane the temperatures are, it can actually be difficult to get out and enjoy nature in the summer. People stay in their air conditioned homes, cars, and offices for the vast majority of the day in the summer. It can make the day-to-day experience of life a little boring if you can’t leave the office and go for a walk at lunchtime.
- Electricity and water utilities are expensive. You’re paying to air condition your house for at least eight months a year. Phoenix is in the desert, so water is scarce, so you have to pay more for it.
(View of Phoenix from South Mountain. Photo by author).
What is the most dangerous scientific experiment ever conducted?
Did you know that ” Louis Pasteur ” discovered the cure for rabies—a disease that affects people when bitten by a dog?
There is an interesting story behind the discovery of this rabies drug.
200 years ago, there were two friends living in a small village in France. One of them was bitten by a mad dog and died after suffering greatly.
After 40 years, the boy whose friend died became a famous scientist known as “Louis Pasteur”. He did many experiments, many researches, but he still could not forget the screams of his friend who died of rabies.
He decided to study and find a cure for this disease through experiments.
He conducted an experiment where he collected mad dogs and put them in a cage. Then he would observe what was wrong with them. Some time after the experiment was conducted, he felt that the foam of saliva coming from the dogs’ mouths was suspicious.
To prove his suspicion, he collected the foam, and put it into a syringe. The syringe was then injected into healthy dogs. A few moments later, these healthy dogs were infected with rabies and eventually died.
Through further observations and experiments, he concluded that when the rabies virus reaches the brain, instant death occurs.
One day, in his laboratory, one of his infected dogs suddenly became normal and healthy.
He then used the dog’s antibodies and gave them to the infected dogs. After a while, the dogs also improved and eventually became healthy.
The experiment was successful, now it’s time to test the antibodies on humans.
But the irony is; where will he get the infected people from?
The great scientist, Louis Pasteur, decided to infect himself with rabies and inject the antibodies into himself, for the betterment of mankind.
The day was set, but ironically it turned out that on that day a mad dog had bitten a small child and they took the child to Louis Pasteur. Antibodies were given and a few days later the child was cured.
The first rabies shot was given on July 6, 1885 and became history.
History holds so many sacrifices, devotion and interesting stories of great people who sacrificed everything for the sake of humanity.
We salute them.
Thank you for reading.
Translator’s addition:
This is the impact of rabies on humans. And if the virus has reached the brain, then the person can no longer be saved. One of these cases is the video above. viewer discretion is advised
What’s the best revenge you’ve gotten after being fired or let go from a job?
In 1995 I worked for a Publishing house in Gaithersburg MD. I had worked for them for 10 years and was now a Director of the Company. During the negotiations for a large mainframe computer purchase, I was told I would be required to lie to the seller and tell them that they had agreed to include a particular subsystem “free” in the overall purchase of the system.
Now I had JUST completed the negotiation of THAT subsystem the DAY BEFORE they asked me to do this so there was NO WAY the seller was going to believe this. I informed the owners that I couldn’t do that and this began the beginning of the termination of my employment with the publishing house.
They were sure I was going to have difficulty getting a replacement job and offered me 30 days severance pay on the condition that I accept a “beeper” and be on call if they needed me until I accepted a job at another company. I accepted and required everything in writing. My last day of work was to be that Friday.
Unbeknownst to them, I had already interviewed with America Online (AOL) accepted a job, and they easily arranged for me to begin work on the following Monday. On that Monday my new boss and I put the beeper in a Courier bag emblazoned with AOL’s LOGO and sent it over to my old company. An old friend of mine in the old company said the beeper was still going off as the package was carried through the office to the owner’s desk.
I REALLY enjoyed that double-dipping last month of extra pay while I was getting paid from AOL too!
Karma says they shouldn’t have asked me to blatantly lie when it would have been so obvious…
Good thing I’d gotten my severance terms in writing too.
Macaroon Brownie Tart
Yield: 12 servings
Ingredients
- 1 refrigerated pie crust (from 15 ounce package), softened as directed on package
- 1 (8 ounce) box fudge brownie mix
- 3 eggs, separated
- 1 tablespoon water
- 1/2 cup semi-sweet chocolate morsels
- 1 package (7 ounces) sweetened flaked coconut
- 1/2 cup Half-and-Half
- 1/4 cup sliced natural almonds
Instructions
- Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
- Gently unfold crust onto lightly floured surface; roll to an 11 1/2 inch circle. Press into bottom and up sides of Tart Pan using Fluting Tool to create fluted edge. Prick bottom of crust; set aside.
- Combine brownie mix, egg yolks and water; mix until smooth and spread over crust using Small Spreader. Sprinkle chocolate morsels over brownie mixture.
- Combine egg whites, coconut and half and half; mix well. Spoon coconut mixture evenly over chocolate morsels. Sprinkle almonds around edge of coconut mixture.
- Bake 40 to 45 minutes or until edge of crust is deep golden brown and center is set.
- Remove from oven; cool 1 hour.
- Serve slightly warm.
- Slice using Nylon Slice ‘N Serve®.
Nutrition
Per serving: Calories 320, Total Fat 18g, Saturated Fat 10g, Cholesterol 60mg, Carbohydrate 36g, Protein 4g, Sodium 200mg, Fiber 2g
Attribution
Pampered Chef
Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Case of the Silent Rooster with Noisy Problems
Ah, dear reader, welcome back to another laugh-filled chapter in the life of yours truly, Sir Whiskerton: detective extraordinaire, farm diplomat, and all-around solver of peculiar problems. Today’s tale involves one of the most bizarre cases I’ve ever encountered, and believe me, that’s saying something. It all began when our resident rooster, Ferdinand, suddenly lost his voice. Now, you’d think a silent rooster would mean peaceful mornings, wouldn’t you? Instead, what followed was a symphony of sounds so ridiculous, it sent the entire farm into fits of laughter—and, occasionally, into hiding. Yes, this is the story of The Rooster That Lost His Voice (and Gained Something Else Entirely).
A Morning Without a Cock-a-Doodle-Doo
It was a morning like any other, or so I thought. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a warm golden glow over the farm. Normally, this would be the moment when Ferdinand, our proud and confident rooster, would unleash his signature cock-a-doodle-doo to wake up the farm. But on this morning, there was… silence.
At first, I thought I’d simply woken up early. But then, I heard it—a strange sound coming from the chicken coop. It wasn’t a crow. It wasn’t a cluck. It was a noise that can only be described as, well… a fart.
“Pfffttthhhhpppp!”
I froze mid-stretch, my ears swiveling toward the coop. “What in whiskers’ name was that?”
“Pffftttthhhpppp!” came the sound again, followed by the unmistakable voice of Doris the hen.
“Oh, Ferdinand! What is wrong with you?!”
“Wrong! But also so embarrassing!” Harriet clucked.
“Embarrassing! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched.
Sensing trouble, I leapt down from the fence and made my way to the coop, where I found Ferdinand standing in the middle of the hens, his feathers ruffled and his beak opening and closing like a broken hinge.
“Ferdinand,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “What’s going on here?”
“I don’t know!” he squawked—or at least, tried to. Instead of words, another loud, wet-sounding pffftttthhhpppp escaped him.
The hens recoiled in horror.
“Oh, the humanity!” Doris wailed.
“Humanity! But also so smelly!” Harriet clucked.
“Smelly! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched.
The Investigation Begins
After calming the hens (and assuring them that Ferdinand was not, in fact, possessed by some unholy flatulent spirit), I turned my attention to the rooster. “Alright, Ferdinand,” I said, pacing back and forth. “Tell me everything. When did this… situation start?”
“This morning!” Ferdinand said—or, rather, tried to say. Every attempted word was punctuated by another pffftttthhhpppp, spllllt, or blrrrppp. It was like his vocal cords had turned into a whoopee cushion.
I stroked my whiskers thoughtfully. “Interesting. Have you eaten anything unusual? Breathed in any strange fumes? Crossed paths with Catnip and his band of mischief-makers?”
“No! I—spllllt!—haven’t done anything out of the—blrrrppp!—ordinary!” Ferdinand said, looking thoroughly miserable.
“Well,” I said, smirking despite myself, “it seems we’ve got a real toot-and-a-half of a mystery on our paws.”
“Toot-and-a-half,” Ditto the kitten echoed, appearing out of nowhere and hopping onto my back.
“Not now, Ditto,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“Not now,” Ditto repeated, grinning.
The Farm Reacts
Word of Ferdinand’s predicament spread quickly, and soon the entire farm was abuzz with gossip—and laughter.
“Oh, Ferdinand!” Porkchop the pig said, waddling over to the coop. “I didn’t know you were part of the wind section!”
“Wind section,” Ditto repeated, snickering.
“Not helping, Porkchop,” Ferdinand grumbled—or tried to. His words were drowned out by another loud pfffffttttttttthhhhhpppppp, which sent Porkchop into a fit of giggles.
Even Rufus the dog couldn’t resist a jab. “Don’t worry, Ferdinand. If the farmer ever needs a new horn for his truck, you’re a shoo-in!”
“Very funny,” Ferdinand muttered, his feathers drooping. “I’m a rooster, not a… a fart machine!”
The Funny Farm Escalates
Over the next couple of days, Ferdinand’s condition didn’t improve. If anything, it got worse. His attempts to crow were so loud and ridiculous that the farmer himself came out to investigate. Of course, Ferdinand’s ill-timed spllllt-blrrrppp-pfffttt! sent the poor man running back to the house, muttering something about “weird barnyard chili.”
Meanwhile, the hens were at their wit’s end.
“Oh, Sir Whiskerton!” Doris clucked, tears in her eyes. “You have to fix this! We can’t live like this!”
“Live like this! But also so gassy!” Harriet added.
“Gassy! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched.
“I’m working on it,” I said, though I was running out of ideas. “Ferdinand, maybe you just need rest. No talking, no crowing, no… noises. Let’s give your voice a break.”
“Voice a break,” Ditto echoed, batting at a stray feather.
A Humorous Solution
As fate would have it, the solution to Ferdinand’s problem came from the most unlikely source: Cluckster, the scraggly rooster who occasionally ran errands for Catnip. He showed up one afternoon with an old, dusty book tucked under one wing.
“Heard about Ferdinand,” Cluckster said, smirking. “Figured you might need this.”
“What is it?” I asked, eyeing the book suspiciously.
“It’s an old farmer’s remedy for roosters who lose their voices,” Cluckster said. “Supposedly, a mixture of honey, warm water, and mint leaves will fix him right up. But hey, if it doesn’t work, at least it’ll freshen his breath!”
Desperate, Ferdinand agreed to try the remedy. With the help of the farmer, we whipped up the concoction and coaxed Ferdinand into drinking it. At first, nothing happened. But then, slowly but surely, Ferdinand’s voice began to return.
The First Crow
The next morning, the farm held its breath as Ferdinand prepared to crow. He puffed out his chest, opened his beak, and…
“Cock-a-doodle-doo!” he cried, his voice strong and clear.
The entire farm erupted into cheers.
“Oh, Ferdinand!” Doris clucked. “You’re back!”
“Back! But also so normal!” Harriet added.
“Normal! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched.
“Welcome back, buddy,” Rufus said, wagging his tail. “Just promise me one thing.”
“What’s that?” Ferdinand asked.
“No more… sound effects,” Rufus said, grinning.
A Happy Ending
With his voice restored, Ferdinand returned to his role as the farm’s proud rooster. And while the memory of his noisy predicament still brought fits of laughter, it also served as a reminder of the farm’s ability to come together in times of trouble.
The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: even when life gets a little messy—or, shall we say, gassy—a little patience, teamwork, and humor can go a long way. And as for Ferdinand? He learned to appreciate his voice like never before… and to avoid anything that might make him the butt of the joke again.
Until next time, my friends.
Trump wants Greenland
Edgar Cayce said a 100 years ago, the Davis Straight was one of the places that would be contested in WW3 and a place to watch for how this goes down.
Greenland is ‘owned’ by the Danish Royal Family. This ‘family’ has been committing human rights abuse with its royal hunting parties. There are Executive Orders about this subject that grants confiscation of property for those involved particularly if there is international money laundering of the profits from same.
Greenland comes under this EO.
So does Canada and Australia.for the same reasons and crimes.
All that remains for this fait accompli is the paper work and the ‘selling’ of it to the world and the people of Greenland.
I believe that OZ was ‘traded’ to china for or merely set adrift and into china’s basket it will go.
One cant really understand world politics without factoring in the Vampire ruling classes and their crimes against humanity.
ALL world Govts are compromised. Some countries are fighting against this vampire class of media protected pedos. I believe Xi is one of them.