I used to suffer from anxiety. I had [1] a mentally ill wife, [2] I was in an industry that laid people off readily, and [3] it was inside the United States. Gosh! Impossible to live there without being a mental wreck.
What is the difference between worry and anxiety?
1. Deep Breathing
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Inhale slowly through your nose for a count of four.
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Hold the breath for a count of four.
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Exhale slowly through your mouth for a count of four.
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Repeat this cycle a few times until you start to feel a bit more relaxed.
2. Grounding Techniques
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Name five things you can see around you.
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Four things you can touch.
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Three things you can hear.
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Two things you can smell.
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One thing you can taste. This helps shift your focus away from your anxious thoughts and back to the present.
3. Progressive Muscle Relaxation
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Start with your toes and feet, tense the muscles for a few seconds, then release.
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Move up to your legs, then your abdomen, chest, arms, and so on.
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By the time you reach your face, you should feel more relaxed overall.
4. Mindfulness and Meditation
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Find a quiet place to sit or lie down.
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Close your eyes and focus on your breath.
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If your mind starts to wander, gently bring it back to your breath.
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You can use guided meditation apps or videos if you’re new to this.
5. Physical Activity
6. Talk to Someone
7. Self-Compassion
8. Distraction
Remember:
INSANE: CONGRESS FUNDED $516 BILLION IN **EXPIRED** PROGRAMS!
CONGRESS FUNDED $516 BILLION IN EXPIRED PROGRAMS! You read that right—over HALF A TRILLION DOLLARS was handed out by Congress this fiscal year to programs that aren’t even active anymore.
Where’s the Money Going? Defunct agencies that should have been shut down, “Temporary” programs that mysteriously never ended. A complete list of such items is pending . . . . Here’s a Summary from the Congressional Budget Office (CBO):
Wasteful spending with zero accountability.
Why This Is a SCAM:
Congress is funding zombie programs with NO oversight.

Elon and a few young guys on his DOGE Team are having to do the work of 535 members of Congress and the GAO because they won’t do their jobs.
HT REMARKS:
You caught that, right: “No oversight.” So . . . . where’s all that money going? The agencies are “Defunct” so who is it that’s grabbing all the agency’s money???? Into WHOSE POCKETS??????
That $516 billion could have gone to border security, tax cuts, or debt reduction Meanwhile, Americans struggle with inflation & skyrocketing costs and the very people who have caused these troubles are openly, actively, publicly attacking President Trump and his DOGE Team which has uncovered this!
Trump’s America First Plan: CUT THE WASTE! Trump has already put government spending under the microscope—and this insanity won’t last under his watch.
It’s time to audit every dollar and defund the swamp!
Rednote EXPOSES the Truth: Americans Say China Lives Better… And the US is a 3rd World Country!
Are U.S. tariffs on China hurting American consumers more than China?
Not exactly
I wouldn’t call them hurting
I did some of the calculations
- A pair of sneakers costing 107 Yuan to the customer ($ 14.76) now costs ($ 16.16) , so the retail price of $ 45 a pair may continue as the Importer may just shave off the extra $ 1.48 per pair of tariff
- A Chandelier Lighting from China imported for 210 Yuan ($ 28.96) , now costs $ 32 and will retail for $ 55–60 at Walmart. So again Walmart may shave off the extra $ 3
- A 4 TB Laptop costing an Importer 3,470 Yuan ($ 479) will cost $ 528 now , but since the Laptop retails for $ 705–730 in the US, the Importer and Distributor may shave off $ 24.50 each in profits
The Profit margins for Chinese Products are very high in US
Roughly around 50% to 200%
Imagine buying a Laptop for $ 480 and selling it for $ 720 , making a cool $ 240 in profits
Imagine buying a Grade A Blanket for $ 3.60 and selling it for $ 9 , making a cool 150% Profit in the process
So these tariffs will be absorbed by the importers themselves in most cases
So what Tariffs will really hurt?
Mainly on Food & Medicines
Food has the highest percentage increase from importer to distributor, over electronics and toys and blankets and shoes
For instance a 10% Tariff increase on Edible Oil imported by India, could result in a ₹ 25.45 increase per litre of Gold Winner, from ₹135 to ₹161
A 10% Tariff increase on Molasses could lead to the increase in the price of Rum from $ 13 to $ 18.50
A 10% Tariff on Pharmaceutical APIs could lead to price of Prescription Drugs rising by upto 42% from $ 100 to $ 142
Thats a massive strain
Is it the time from when ChatGPT downfall will start due to DeepSeek entry on the market?
AI is the latest signature of technology progress.
OpenAI and ChatGPT are early movers and leaders. They are close-source systems. Their gospels are big money spent and computational power.
DeepSeek is open-source. It shows efficient algorithm and innovations can overcome big money and less computational power.
But OpenAI and ChatGPT are not in any danger. What is happening is that their power of dominance is curbed, probably permanently.
More generally, the power of the US to dominate AI is curbed, probably also permanently. All the ambitions of big money, big investments, and big returns, are in the air, again probably also permanently.
Much would return to the drawing board. Investors on the AI queue have diminished.
Are U.S. tariffs on China hurting American consumers more than China?
Below are quotes from remarks by Ambassador Chas W Freeman, Jr to the Washington Institute of Foreign Affairs.
“Our farmers have lost most of their $24 billion market in China, perhaps permanently. Our companies have had to accept lower profit margins, cut wages and jobs for US workers, defer potential wage hikes or expansions, and raise prices for American consumers or companies. Our tariff increases and turn to government-managed trade have cost an estimated 245,000 American jobs, while shaving something like $320 billion off our GDP. On average American families are paying as much as $1,277 more each year for everything from apparel and shoes to toys, electronic goods, and household appliances……There has been almost no “reshoring” of the industrial jobs American companies originally outsourced to China. According to an Oxford Economics study, if the Biden administration leaves current polices in place, the US can expect cumulative job losses of 320,000 by 2025, and our GDP will be $1.6 trillion less than it would otherwise be.”
Note: His numbers were obtained from studies he cited in his remarks.
My comment: America is a consumer society. Most of its imports feed into the consumer’s budget. I think lots of the fast moving consumer goods that America import from China have not yet been tariffed.
The wider the range of goods that are tariffed and the higher the tariffs, the deeper will be the cut into the consumers budgets. This will mean an end to the cheap Chinese goods that have kept inflation at bay and enabled America’s lower- and middle-class to maintain a high standard of living despite the stagnation of their real incomes.
There is no chance that China’s manufacturers will absorb the tariffs. Simple fact is that they cannot afford to do so because their profit margins are already razor thin. Their prices are competitive because they have already passed on all the economies from costs savings and efficiency of production in their pricing.
Should the external account of the US continue to deteriorate, America’s consumers may suffer another whammy from the depreciation of the exchange value of the US$.
These Girls Got MAD When Brian Said What Men Really Want
Braised Chicken with Papaya
This tropical chicken dish is one of the simplest to prepare. Pair it with basmati rice.

Yield: 4 servings
Ingredients
- 3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
- 1/8 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
- 1 pound boneless, skinless chicken breast halves, cut into 1-inch lengthwise strips
- 1 tablespoon olive oil
- 1 (10 1/2 ounce) can low-sodium chicken broth
- 1 large papaya, peeled, halved lengthwise, seeded and cut into 1/2-inch thick slices
- Basmati Rice (follow package directions for 4 servings)
- Garnish: freshly ground pepper and sprigs of fresh cilantro
Instructions
- Combine the flour and pepper in a shallow bowl.
- Flour the chicken by lightly pressing both sides of each chicken strip into the flour mixture.
- Heat the olive oil in a large nonstick sauté pan over medium-high heat.
- Arrange the chicken strips in a single layer; cook for 2 minutes on each side, or until they are lightly browned but not cooked through.
- Reduce the heat to medium and pour the chicken broth over the chicken.
- Place the papaya slices atop the chicken.
- Cover and cook for about 8 minutes or until the chicken is thoroughly done.
- To serve, spread a mound of rice on each of 4 plates.
- Top with the chicken strips and papaya slices.
- Drizzle with the chicken broth, sprinkle with pepper, garnish and serve immediately.
The Retreat
Submitted into Contest #210 in response to: Write a story about a character who is trying to share groundbreaking news, but isn’t being taken seriously.… view prompt
Jessica Hevican
“Do you want to try and stand on the paddle board, Deacon?” The plump lady in a wetsuit cooed like I was an infant. I was seventeen and every summer since I was ten years old, my mother would ship me off to what she called ‘the retreat’. She believed that attending this activity packed vacation, getting away from the city smog and spending time with people who faced similar challenges to me, would somehow be beneficial and therapeutic. She couldn’t be more wrong. I hated this place and everyone in it.
“Come on Deacon, give it a go,” she beckoned, “Look at Venessa, she is having a great time doing it.” I glanced toward the lake just in time to witness Vanessa dramatically tumbling from her paddle board, landing in the lake with a splash. I shook my head ferociously in response. I didn’t want to participate in this activity or any other activity in the itinerary for that matter.
The evening sun peaked from the heavy clouds dusting them with pale shades of pinks and blues. The lake stretched beyond the horizon, mirroring the colourful sky above with the exception of the dark shadow casted over the water by the rickety boat house perched on the wooden dock above. We would usually sleep in the boat house during our three week stay. I had thought it was impossible to downgrade from the old, dusty and musty smelling residence but ‘fortunately’ for me it was indeed possible. We were to slum it with sleeping bags under the stars. What kind of retreat was this? The only retreat it offered was a retreat back to the stone age era. Before I know it, they will be asking us to hunt and kill our own food and gather berries from the forest next.
As I waited in line to collect my assigned camping gear, my patience began to wear dangerously thin. What took everyone so long? All they needed to do was grab the camping gear that the two camp leaders were carefully handing out, and go. Instead, hugs were given, conversations were struck and even Vanessa decided to do an impromptu dance. When I finally reached the end of the line, I snatched the rolled up red sleeping bag, military green canvas backpack and torch.
“You don’t have to be so difficult, Deacon, this will be fun,” the smallest of the two camp leaders said.
“And your mother mentioned how much you loved marshmallows and the stars,” the rotund lady from earlier enthusiastically chirped in. I made a sound of annoyance and with my baggage in hand, stormed off to catch up with the others. The others were standing in a semi circle listening intently to a third camp leader who was animatedly giving instructions. All the staff at camp wore matching khaki shorts and bright orange T-shirts with the words summer camp written across the centre. The luminous t-shirts were for identifying purposes, I assumed – not like it was needed. In a secluded place like this where only the trees, lake and wildlife could keep you company, you were more than likely staff if you were human and appeared to be over the age of thirty.
With little debate, the camp leaders organised the sixteen people gathered into groups of two. I was partnered with Vanessa who insisted that I held her hand. I wanted this night to go as quickly and painlessly as possible, so I indulged her. With one of my hands occupied as Vanessa interlaced her warm, soft fingers with mine, the other arm carried both mine and Vanessa’s sleeping bags. As we traipsed through the forest hand in hand, I couldn’t help but notice how joyous Vanessa seemed to be. Despite being around my age, I hadn’t paid much attention to her before. Her beaming smile was infectious and shot a peculiar warmth down to my core. With such little time spent with her, she was already rubbing off on me.
Pulling me along gently, she began to skip down the long, windy dirt path sprinkled with pine needles. As I walked behind her, cautiously avoiding the thick twisted roots which sprang from the earth, my gaze darted from Vanessa to the coniferous trees that surrounded us. The well-dressed fir trees stood together and tall, swaying lightly in the cool evening breeze. I breathed deeply and the damp yet refreshing earthy scent penetrated my nostrils. I had almost forgotten how different the air tasted and smelt out here in the wilderness. It was worlds apart from the constant fumes that I coughed into my lungs back in the bustling city of New York.
Under the fading sun, the group continued to stroll deeper into the forest. However, the further into the forest we went, the darker the forest became as the dense foliage blanketed the forest floor from the sky above. With the lack of light, the impenetrable wall of trees were casted in an ominous glow and their shadows grew longer, eerily longer. At one point, I thought I saw something amongst the ancient trees but after giving it more thought, I chalked it down to the vivid imagination that I was known to have.
The once gentle breeze suddenly blew colder and harsher, tousling my cropped brown hair and setting a chill into my bones. I had never been afraid of the dark, but out here, in the middle of nowhere, anxiety started to creep in. With every step came a snap of a twig and the crunch of dried leaves. To me, those sounds were like sharp nails on a blackboard. I could feel my heart begin to race and my hands becoming slick with moisture. Simultaneously, I dropped both Vanessa’s hand and the camping gear. With my hands now covering my ears, I shook my head from side to side. I felt like I was drowning. I needed to get out of there immediately! As I was spinning out, Vanessa grabbed me by the shoulders, her cerulean blue eyes searching mine. The smile that spread across her face earlier was gone, replaced with understanding and sympathy. Once she was certain that she had my sole attention, she tapped her headphones, her noise cancelling headphones. She reached down to the ground to retrieve my backpack and unzipped it. Within a moment, she found the item she was looking for – my noise cancelling headphones and placed them on my head.
After Vanessa saved me from heading towards a downward spiral, we walked along the dirt path for another five minutes before we entered into a clearing. Whilst out in the open, I could see that the sun had finished her day shift and the moon had now taken over for the night. Unlike the city, the moon had assistance with his nightly task of illuminating the sky. His thousands of minions, the stars, twinkled brightly bringing both light and beauty to the world.
I followed Vanessa’s lead as she held the marshmallow on a stick over the crackling and blaring fire, the sound of it dulled by my noise cancelling headphones. The light from the fire set off beautifully the golden and auburns strands of her wavy chestnut brown hair, which perfectly framed her heart shaped face. She was breathtaking, as beautiful inside as she was out.
After charring my previously white marshmallow, I sat beside Vanessa on the log bench that we had earlier slung our backpacks and sleeping bags on. Everything the camp leader had mentioned before was correct – I did love marshmallows. I loved everything about them – their soft, chewy texture, the way they resembled fluffy clouds and the distinct sweet vanilla flavouring. It didn’t take me long before I devoured the entire bag. While the rest of the group were taking part in music therapy, Vanessa and I stayed back in the seating area watching the fire blaze. Realising that I hadn’t thanked Vanessa, I grabbed the black tablet from my backpack, and quickly typed a message that I wanted to say, but couldn’t.
“Thank you Vanessa, for earlier,” said the robotic voice, billowing out from the side of my tablet.
“That’s no problem, Deacon. We all need some help from time to time.” she replied.
The sound of her angelic, slightly high pitched voice, shocked me. I hadn’t known that, unlike me, she was verbal. My eyes returned to the screen of my tablet and I briskly typed my response.
“In all the years we have been in camp together, I don’t think I have ever heard you speak. I had always thought you were nonverbal like me.”
Vanessa smiled, “I don’t speak very often, I prefer not to. Besides, I don’t think you have ever approached me. You have always been the brooding boy in the corner.”
After a couple of seconds, Vanessa tilted her head in thought “I can sign if it’s easier, saves you having to keep typing,” she both signed and said verbally.
“Signing is perfect,” I replied with my hands.
Vanessa and I sat on the log benches talking for what seemed like hours before the others returned. The eyes of all three camp leaders lit up in surprise as they beheld me smiling and conversing with Vanessa. On seeing them return, my grinning face dropped and shifted back to my usual scowl.
“It seems you’ve made a friend, Deacon, but I’m afraid it’s time for bed,” one of them said in an overly exaggerated but slightly undermining tone.
With a grunt, I collected my belongings and stomped across the emerald green grass to the furthest point of the field, just on the outskirts of the forest. I wanted to get away from the demeaning camp leaders and be out of earshot of the horrendous snores. I wanted to be alone so I could really appreciate the star constellations. As a boy, I was fascinated with the stars and planets, some would say I was obsessed. On my tenth birthday, I was ecstatic when I received a telescope from my mother as a gift. Each evening, I would excitedly peer into the optical lens in search of a new star or planet. However, each night I would come away disappointed as the stars would not reveal themselves to me. Hence, the telescope was quickly packed away to gather dust in the attic.
As I lay on the cold and lumpy ground, snuggled in my sleeping bag, I peered towards the night sky. The midnight blue canvas was painted in star light, the Sirius star shining the brightest of them all. With Sirius identified, I traced the silver speckles neighbouring it with a pointed finger and discovered a dog standing on its hind legs. It was the Canis major constellation, my personal favourite. After pointing out to myself several more constellations and what appeared to be a shooting star, sleep finally found me and swept me under.
The first thing I registered when I woke a few hours later was the pain in my back and the tension in my shoulders. It seemed as though the thick, padded grass did little to soften the hard ground. As I sat up right, my back cracking with the movement, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. It was pitch black, even the ethereal moon and the twinkling stars had dimmed. The only real light came flashing from my backpack to the left of me. In a sleepy state, I pulled the tablet from my bag. The screen of the tablet was acting on its own accord, switching on and off, then on and off again. I held the reset button down but it did nothing to stop the repetitive blinking light.
As I attempted to fix my tablet, I spotted movement in the corner of my eye. With a slow turn of my head in the direction of the movement, I watched as Vanessa skipped towards the forest while everybody else was sleeping soundly. In an instant, I was up racing towards Vanessa. Just before she entered the forest, I managed to reach her and held her by her shoulders searching those eyes of hers. But the eyes that peered back at me were not hers at all. They were older, unearthly and glazed, not the glistening cerulean blue that I was beginning to love.
“What are you doing?” I signed, but there was no indication from her facial expression that she understood.
“Vanessa, what are you doing?” I repeated, “you can’t go into the woods at night all alone.” Vanessa pushed against my grip with an unnatural strength, knocking me to the floor. In a trance, she skipped past me, her focus fixed to the forest behind me. That’s when I heard it – the clicking sound. Without my headphones, the sound of clicking tongues was ear piercing and made me recoil. The clicking sounds echoed from various points of the forest, seemingly coming from more than one source, differing in pitch. It appeared to be a way of communication, a language different to ours, someone or something talking and another answering.
I twirled around, finding not just Vanessa but another creature standing amongst the tree line. Although it was dark, I could see the creature clearly. Its metallic coloured skin reflected the moon, making it easily identifiable like the luminous orange t-shirts that the camp leaders wore. The creature was a few inches taller than I was, making it at least six and a half feet in height. Its spindly limbs gestured for Vanessa to come closer, while his huge onyx eyes set in its oval shaped head bore into mine, warning me to remain where I was. Ignoring its warning, I rose to my feet and sprinted towards Vanessa but she was already in the creature’s clutches. Holding her firmly in its grip, the creature’s mouth curved upwards showing its pointed, sharp teeth. It was grinning at me, taunting me. With a couple of clicks of its tongue and a wave of its unusually large hand, a tunnel of light flooded from overhead, scorching holes into my retina and temporarily blinding me.
I was forced to shut my eyes but as soon as all remnants of light had disappeared, I opened them again. The blinding light was not the only thing to disappear. I scoured the tree line but there was nothing but trees in sight, no creature or Vanessa. I listened attentively for the clicking sound that I’d heard earlier. However, all I could hear was the slight rustle of leaves as the wind passed through them and the faint hoots from owls which watched in judgement from a nearby tree branch. I hovered there for a moment, my mouth slightly ajar and my hands trembling before I realised that I desperately needed to get some help.
I scrambled to the camp leader’s designated sleeping spot, tripping on my own two feet several times on the way, and shook one of the camp leaders wide awake.
“Deacon, what are you doing?” She whisper-shouted as the chorus of snores surrounded us.
“VA-NESS-A, GONE,” I mouthed slowly so that she could understand.
“Yes, Vanessa – your new friend. You will be able to see her in the morning. Go back to bed Deacon, it’s still the middle of the night.” The camp leader shooed me off in dismissal and rolled over. I walked around to the side and pulled the hand that her round head was resting on.
“Go back to bed,” she spat, “I thought you were improving after this evening but it looks like you have reverted back to your troublesome self.”
I made a loud sound of frustration which woke the other two camp leaders up.
“What’s all the commotion?” One of them yawned.
“Deacon is back to his usual antics and being difficult again,” she announced to the others. With my eyes, I pleaded with all three of them to take me seriously but they were having none of it. They weren’t going to help. I would have to search for Vanessa in the forest by myself.
From that moment until the morning sun danced through the canopy of the trees, I surveyed the forest for any signs of Vanessa or the creature. I had even veered off the worn, narrow trail into the depths of the forest, which judging by the reactions of the wildlife, no man had ever walked before. I knew it was a hopeless task but I couldn’t stand idle.
When the sun reached its peak, I stepped into the clearing once again, covered head to toe in mud, and was met with people buzzing around like bees in panic. At the other side of the clearing, all three camp leaders wore faces of hysteria and distress as they spoke to two men immaculately dressed in uniform. Upon catching a glimpse of me, one of the camp leaders shouted, “He’s here. Deacon is here,” and began running towards me.
A short time later, we arrived back at the lake. A lake that only yesterday I witnessed Vanessa fall into. As I sat on the hood of the police car gazing at the shimmering lake at that very spot, the soft blanket wrapped around me did nothing to prevent me from shivering violently.
“Son, I’m going to ask you a few questions and I want you to answer them as best as you possibly can,” one police man politely said while the other handed me my tablet, which was now functioning properly. I simply nodded in response.
“Vanessa, do you know where she is?”
“Gone, Vanessa is gone,” the single tone, robotic voice answered.
“Where?”
I contemplated whether or not to tell them the whole truth. If I told them everything, I ran the risk of them thinking I was crazy. But for Vanessa, a true friend that I had only just made, it was worth the risk.
“Aliens, she was taken by aliens.”
Shorpy














How would you cure racism in America?
Ethan Anthony Couch, white and affluent, killed 4 people and injured 9 when he drove drunk in 2013. His several lawyers successfully argued that his wealthy upbringing made him too spoiled to be held accountable for his actions. He was convicted of involuntary manslaughter and got ten years’ probation. He has since violated probation several times (including by absconding and triggering a national manhunt) and he has never shown remorse for his crimes. This piece of shit is free as a bird.
(What an ugly fucker.)
Rogel Iazaro Aguilera-Mederos, a truck driver and immigrant from Cuba, killed 4 people and injured several others in 2019 when the truck he was driving lost its brakes. No drugs or alcohol were found in his system. He has spent 2 years tormented with guilt and has displayed extreme remorse for something that wasn’t even his fault. The sentencing judge admitted it was an accident and that he hadn’t intended to harm anyone. Nevertheless Rogel was convicted of 27 counts, including
- 4 counts of vehicular homicide
- 6 counts of first-degree assault
- 10 counts of attempt to commit assault in the first degree
- 2 counts of vehicular assault
- 1 count of reckless driving
- 4 counts of reckless driving causing death
He got 110 years in prison.
America is racist and elitist to the bone. The system is stronger than any individual or group that wants to do good. Progress is always an illusion. Eight years after the first Black president and “Yes we can,” they elected Trump. Honestly, there is no changing this country. There’s just the ability to spread the truth about it.
“I Laughed When He Found Out the Baby Wasn’t His—Now I’m Alone Raising a Child While He Moved On”
Sir Whiskerton and the Case of the Time-Traveling Feed
Ah, dear reader, prepare yourself for another uproarious adventure on Sir Whiskerton’s farm, where the animals are as eccentric as ever, and the mischief is always just a whisker away. Today’s tale involves Chef Remy LeRaccoon, the farm’s resident mad scientist, who invents a bizarre new type of animal feed that sends whoever eats it five minutes into the past or future. But when the farmer accidentally mixes up the chicken feed and the goose feed, chaos ensues as animals start popping in and out of time like clockwork. So, grab your sense of humor and let’s dive into The Case of the Time-Traveling Feed.
The Plot Thickens
It all began in Chef Remy LeRaccoon’s gourmet laboratory, a ramshackle shed filled with bubbling beakers, glowing concoctions, and the occasional explosion. Remy, wearing a tiny chef’s hat and a lab coat that was two sizes too big, stood over a bubbling cauldron of feed, cackling with glee.
“Eureka!” Remy exclaimed, holding up a glowing vial of feed. “I’ve done it! I’ve created the world’s first time-traveling animal feed! Chicken feed sends you five minutes into the past, and goose feed sends you five minutes into the future! The possibilities are endless!”
Sir Whiskerton, who had been passing by, raised an eyebrow. “Time-traveling feed, you say? Remy, this sounds like a recipe for disaster.”
Remy waved a paw dismissively. “Nonsense, Whiskerton! This is science! And science is never a disaster… until it is.”
Before Sir Whiskerton could protest further, the farmer wandered into the barnyard, carrying two bags of feed. “Morning, everyone!” the farmer said cheerfully. “I’ve got your breakfast right here!”
But, as usual, the farmer wasn’t paying attention. He accidentally mixed up the chicken feed and the goose feed, pouring the time-traveling chicken feed into the geese’s trough and the goose feed into the chickens’ coop.
The Great Time-Traveling Fiasco
The chaos began almost immediately. Doris the Hen took a peck of the goose feed and suddenly vanished, only to reappear five minutes later, looking thoroughly confused.
“What in the name of clucking just happened?!” Doris squawked, flapping her wings in panic.
Harriet clucked in agreement. “Happened! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian promptly fainted into a pile of hay.
Meanwhile, Gertrude the Goose took a bite of the chicken feed and was instantly transported five minutes into the past. She reappeared in the same spot, honking indignantly. “What is this sorcery?!”
Before long, the barnyard was a whirlwind of disappearing and reappearing animals. Ferdinand the Duck, who had been singing an aria, suddenly found himself five minutes in the future, mid-note. “Wait, where did my audience go?!” he quacked, looking around in confusion.
Porkchop the Pig, who had been wallowing in his favorite mud puddle, suddenly found himself five minutes in the past, staring at a clean, mud-free puddle. “What the—? Where’s my mud?!” he snorted.
Even Rufus the Dog, who had been chasing his tail, suddenly found himself five minutes in the future, still chasing his tail but now thoroughly dizzy. “Why does my head feel like a spinning top?!” he barked.
Sir Whiskerton to the Rescue
Sir Whiskerton, watching the chaos unfold from his perch on the barn roof, sighed deeply. “This is exactly what I was afraid of. Remy’s ‘science’ has gone haywire again.”
Determined to restore order, Sir Whiskerton called a meeting with Bessie the Tie-Dye Cow and Jazzpurr the Beatnik Cat. “We need to fix this before the entire farm gets stuck in a time loop,” Sir Whiskerton said.
Bessie nodded dreamily. “Like, time is just a construct, man. We just need to, you know, vibe with it.”
Jazzpurr strummed his bongo. “Yeah, man. Let’s lay down some groovy beats and get these animals back in sync.”
Together, they devised a plan. Bessie would use her calming presence to keep the animals from panicking, while Jazzpurr would play a steady rhythm to help them stay grounded in the present. Sir Whiskerton, meanwhile, would track down Remy and force him to create an antidote.
The Moral of the Story
After a frantic search, Sir Whiskerton found Remy hiding in his laboratory, surrounded by half-finished experiments. “Remy,” Sir Whiskerton said, his tail flicking in annoyance, “you need to fix this. Now.”
Remy sighed. “Alright, alright. I’ll whip up an antidote. But it’s going to take… five minutes.”
Sir Whiskerton groaned. “Of course it will.”
As the antidote took effect, the animals slowly returned to their proper timelines, no longer popping in and out of existence. The farmer, oblivious to the chaos he had caused, continued his daily chores, humming a cheerful tune.
As the sun set and the barnyard returned to its usual peaceful state, Sir Whiskerton addressed the gathered animals. “Well, my friends, it seems we’ve learned an important lesson today.”
Doris clucked softly. “That time travel is overrated?”
Sir Whiskerton shook his head. “No, Doris. The lesson is that sometimes, it’s best to leave well enough alone. The past is the past, and the future is the future. The present is where we belong.”
Bessie nodded. “And like, the present is pretty groovy, man.”
Jazzpurr strummed his bongo. “Yeah, man. Just ride the wave.”
Ferdinand, ever the diva, quacked, “And if you must time travel, at least do it with style!”
The animals laughed, and even Remy joined in, his tiny chef’s hat tilted at a jaunty angle.
A Happy Ending
And so, the time-traveling feed was safely locked away in Remy’s laboratory, never to be used again. The animals returned to their usual routines, content in the knowledge that once again, Sir Whiskerton had saved the farm from chaos.
Ditto, who had been watching from the sidelines, echoed, “Present is best! Present is best!”
Echo, not to be outdone, added, “Present is best! Present is best!”
And with that, the barnyard settled into a peaceful evening, the sounds of Jazzpurr’s bongo and Bessie’s humming filling the air.
The End.
Who does an increase in tariffs affect?
It only affects the US consumers.
Any TAX (duties) applied to imports from any country are paid for by the people importing the product. Doesn’t matter what country is exporting. Israel, France, Russia, China…you pay when the products enter the country. You the consumer pay, no one else.
All the BS about the exporting country paying is made by those that try to justify a lie.
The exporting country has no obligation to lower prices, devalue the currency, or anything other than to sell their product.
It is purely a business decision to move merchandise.
When a retailer has a sale to move inventory, prices may be reduced to meet a price point where more people will buy the item.
Producers choose to set the prices depending on the market. There is no obligation from the companies to absorb the US TAX, all that is speculation and misleading.
The taxes are paid by you and go directly to the US government and no one else.
China has 58 million private corporations, 814 billionaires, and 6 million millionaires. How on Earth can you tell me that China is a communist state?
I don’t know who told you that China is a communist country.
The Communist Party of China and the Chinese government define China as a country in the primary stage of socialism.
30 years ago, my textbooks said so; now, my children’s textbooks also say so.
In China’s junior high school (9th grade), there is a course called “Politics”, which teaches students the definitions of primitive society, slave society, feudal society, capitalist society, socialist society and communist society; and analyzes the social composition and economic model of major countries in the world.
What’s the last thing you gave away for free, and why?
A really nice miter saw. About $400 new.
I got it as gift several years ago. Never really used it.
A young man I know has been trying to start his own business. He needs everything. Shoestring budget.
I gave it to him.
Really nice tools are to be used. Not to sit alone in a garage.
I don’t like putting a for sale ad up and having people coming to the property. I didn’t feel like boxing it and selling it on eBay.
So I gave it to him.
It’s Not Who You Think
Submitted into Contest #210 in response to: Write a story about a character who is trying to share groundbreaking news, but isn’t being taken seriously.… view prompt
David B Fraser
Glen sipped his drink straw and commented, “You should go out with me.”
Astra shook her head, looking across the street towards the fountained park. “I only go for tall, thin, emancipated men.”
Harold laughed and jabbed Glen. “She wants Leo.”
“Has his face cleared up?” Leslie asked. They scowled at him. Blemishes were a problem for all of them.
Astra reached across herself for some more tuber fries. Glen stared at her. Harold watched the streets for anyone interesting. Leslie was scrolling through something on his phone.
A huge bang sounded. Everyone stood up and looked down the street wondering if they should go towards it to see, or run away now. A large grey cloud of dust came their way. Leslie was looking at the dust settling on his arm. He rotated his arm inspecting the grey specks. He returned to keying into his phone to try to find news of the source of this event, which was still occurring in real time.
Glen was looking around to see how others were reacting. Astra was still on the café bench, but off her butt and perched now like a bird.
More sky-filling bangs and thunder were heard. Two vehicles were thrown into the sky. Far higher than they should have been able to hover. The vehicles were damaged with crushed and twisted front ends. A few of the cars had turned and were racing away from the noise and smoke. They must have had some sort of illegal override to be able to leave the scene of an accident.
Was it an accident?
“It’s an Gman.” Leslie announced reading off his phone.
“What kind?” Harold asked.
“It’s not going to be an army guy.” Glen said, guessing more than knowing. “It’ll be a gang guy. Army Gmen are not allowed in populated areas until they’re decommissioned. They have to get their enhancements nerfed before they can live with everyone else. It’s a gang guy. He’s over-juiced himself. Probably blew himself up.”
Police hovered past them, much higher than other vehicles were regulated to climb. The sirens hurt their ears. Once they passed, people began to move again along the streets. Cars horns sounded impatiently, as if the roads should be instantly cleared by the arrival of the police alone.
“Leo lives that way.” Astra said. She sat normally now. Her head down with worry. She pushed the tuber fries away from her.
Leslie was still looking at the dust on his arm and clothes. He sniffed the dust and then licked his arm as if the taste would help him identify it. “Weird. It’s like burnt, or something.”
Glen looked at him appalled. “It’s like burnt? It’s dust, Leslie. It’s burnt dust. You want me to get you a cup of hot water? You can make a tea out it.”
“They’re not saying much.” Leslie said, reading from his phone. “They haven’t identified the gang member at this time. He was like nine-two. Double jointed knees, double jointed elbows.”
“Gross.” Harold said. “I get freaked out by the ones who make themselves into giants.”
“Oh, remember Carterway?” Glen said. “He got bounced off that team when they found out he was enhanced. His career was over.”
A tall, thin, emancipated young man covered in grey dust came up the walkway. Astra ran to him and wrapped her arms around him almost in tears. Leo stood dumbly, looking down at her in surprise but also distracted at what he just walked away from.
“What happened?” Harold asked.
Leslie kept scrolling his phone not looking up. “Why ask him? Eyewitnesses have been proven, again and again, to be the most unreliable source of news.”
“It was an alien.” Leo announced.
“See? Brzzz!” Leslie said, making a noise like a game show buzzer. “Wrong answer, Leo. It was a Gman. That’s confirmed by the police. By the Army. And by Entertainment Six.” Leslie held up his phone as conclusive proof.
“No, no… this guy… this thing… was ten feet.”
“Nine foot two.” Glen corrected.
“Its arms and legs were torn. You could see veins, but they were blue and green. Some white stuff. And the limbs… you could see bones and veins… I saw them. They were veins, not plastic and piping.”
“The blue and green stuff are lubricants, and the white stuff is ointment.” Harold argued. “You know, your body rejects enhancements? People get all sorts of sores and stuff from them. Diseases, too. I knew this one guy in a gang who had to put cream on his knuckles every night. He had them plastic hard plated. He kept getting boils and skin separation.”
“When did you know someone in a gang?” Glen challenged.
“He spoke. It wasn’t a voice like us.”
Leslie interrupted, still staring into his phone, “It’s a speech box. They’ve been around forever. It’s just an implant.”
Astra got Leo to sit on the bench and then she seemed to wrap herself around his torso and shoulders. He was too stunned to enjoy the affection from her. Leo looked over his shoulder to Leslie who was scrolling away on his phone. “What’s it say?”
“It’s wasn’t an alien, Leo.” He held up his phone. “Everyone has one of these, and the police body cams are public. It would get recorded. And there never has been. Not once. There’s no aliens.”
“He’s shrooming.” Harold said, nodding wide-eyed.
Astra reached over the table to shove him. “He does micro doses for his anxiety. It doesn’t hallucinate him!”
“It was an alien. It wasn’t a person. I know it was.”
“Okay, don’t.” Astra held him. “Don’t say it anymore. It’s alright.
“How did it get here?” Glen challenged.
“I don’t know, I heard the bang and went to see what was happening. There was a lot of dust. Dust everywhere. Like there was a crash, or a landing. Part of the road was broken up and caved in where the thing was.”
“And were there pixies with that fairy dust?” Glen teased.
Astra looked daggers over Leo’s shoulder at Glen, who shut up red faced.
“Aww, they’re redacting it now.” Harold continued his play by play from his phone news feed. “All the articles are being pulled away. Section yadda yadda of the Secrecy Act, all inquiries directed to… and the Secrecy’s Act is disappearing, too. Entertainment Six is doing a ‘correction to our previous story’. You know what’s going on? I bet it was a soldier. An augmented genuine Gman. They don’t want people to think one of them is out of control so they say it’s a gang member. A basement surgery enhancement. They probably got so many questions about that, they decided to pull the whole story and cover it up under the secrecy act.”
“We could go down there.” Glen stood up and starting walking. Harold joined him, and Leslie followed with his phone almost attached to his nose.
Astra squeezed Leo and wiped the dust from his cheeks and petted his hair.
“I saw the police reach for him. It. It laughed when they called him a Gman. It said, ‘This is my form. I am not one of your experiments. But you wait… you keep trying… you will become us. It’s voice was all, like glass and metal.”
Astra slapped his shoulder. “That doesn’t even make sense. Don’t talk like that. You’re freaking me out.”
Leo nodded and wrapped an arm around her. He looked into her face and then kissed her. She unwrapped herself a bit and sat beside him holding his hand.
“Have you been taking your meds?” She asked.
Leo shrugged and looked away, annoyed.
Will the Tariffs hurt American Consumers?
As a retired importer I can give you the answer.
Yes it will. Importers and retailers can only absorb so much more in costs before passing them on to their customers.
Will Chinese manufacturers lose money and customers? Some will, some won’t. But some will move their production to another country. This happened to one my Chinese suppliers who did about 30% of their business with US importers. The product they were making became subject to 100% dumping duty. Rather than lose 30% of their business, they moved their production to Thailand. It cost them a lot of money to move, put a lot of Chinese workers out of a job but Thailand is a “Most Favored Nation” (no import duty) so the product remained duty free.
Super Easy Chicken and Dumplings

Yield: 6 servings
Ingredients
- 2/3 cup milk
- 2 cups buttermilk baking mix
- 2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
- 3 (1 ounce) packages chicken gravy mix
- 3 cups cubed, cooked chicken breast
- 3 cups frozen mixed vegetables
Instructions
- Add milk to baking mix and parsley. Mix only until baking mix is moistened. Set aside.
- Prepare gravy mix according to package directions in skillet with cover.
- Add chicken and frozen vegetables and return to boil.
- Portion 6 large spoonsful of dumpling dough onto hot mixture.
- Reduce heat, cover and simmer for 10 to 12 minutes or until dumplings are cooked.
- Serve in shallow soup bowls.
Is the economic burden of the tariffs being applied to Chinese products falling primarily on US consumers or on China?
The monetary cost is being met exclusively by the USA consumer.
However, if import volumes from China fall in the USA, that is a threat to a potential threat to Chinese production and possibly Chinese jobs. So there is a potential social security aspect in China because of Trump’s taxes (tariffs) imposed on USA consumers, which are designed to dissuade USA consumers from buying foreign product.
Short term China might feel a bit of economic pain, but will simply redirect current shortfalls of exports to the USA to other markets. The USA only made up close to 11% of China’s exports in 2018, so the USA isn’t critical to their economy.
However, Trump has imposed on the USA consumer new taxes on most product imported into the USA. His aim is to inflate the price to match that of noncompetitive USA product. So the USA are going to be stuck with price inflation, and a lowering of their standard of living for the foreseeable future.
Guide to China’s Social Security System | Who Pays What?
