LAGNAF in College.

When I attended university, I used to hang out with various groups of friends. My core group was a group of fellow engineering students that shared many of the same courses that I was taking at the time.

In their dorm room (normally festooned with think silk tapestries and other teenage clutter) had this stuffed deer head. It had a red bandana around its neck, and ore a cowboy hat. And it had a name.

LAGNAF

Sort of like this…

Which stood for the “Let’s all get naked and fuck”. Yeah. I know. Stupid. Sophomoric.

But we were at that age, and we were that stupid and silly.

Memories of a silly past.

Now, we weren’t the only ones festooning our stuffed animal heads with decorative attire. Here’s some examples…

Today…

Which mainstream rhetoric is closer to the truth, China is collapsing rapidly or China is surging to be a superpower rapidly?

China – is unique

You need to study every facet of their society and their economy to understand how China works

No Westerner can understand how China works because not a single traditional concept of economics works on China

The world switched to Capitalist economics completely by 1980

Every Economist who graduated since 1980s was sold on the Western Capitalist Theories of Economics

The fundamental belief was Socialism was a failure and was collapsing like a balloon

China is an immensely successful mixed economy

Not a single Western or Indian economist has been trained to study a Socialist or Mixed Economy

They stupidly apply principles of a Western economy to China and then when their claims of a “China collapse” fall flat, they end up screaming and saying “CCP CCP” stupidly

---

Is China collapsing Rapidly?

Everyone knows they are NOT

The US has many times more problems than China does

India has many times more problems than China does

Japan has many times problems than China does

European economies have many times problems than China does

China isn’t collapsing for the simple reason that :-

• The RMB has considerable value today in Trade
• Chinese Technology is emerging rapidly enough to generate immense value to the Chinese economy
• China has a Trillion Dollar Trade Surplus
• China pays only 22% of its revenue on paying interest on Debt including Local Government Debt. This number is closer to 42% for India and 25% for the USA if you include all the States (17% Federal + 7.8% for a the States)
• China has the lowest relative cost of living among the G20 countries

You get a 1.5 Tonne AC for 2451 Yuan

That’s roughly around 13.39% of the monthly salary of a average Chinese

In US that is around 30% today ($ 2099 for a $ 7,000 Salary)

In India it is 38% today (₹ 32,000/- for a ₹ 84, 000/- salary)

You get a Double Door Refrigerator for 3,780 Yuan in China

For 3300 Yuan, you get a Four Door 476 Litre Refrigerator

That’s around 18.30% of the Salary of an Average Chinese

In India it’s ₹ 66,000/- or almost 78% of the salary

So Chinese can get stuff at absolutely low prices and their Government is flush with cash , enough to build world class infrastructure, education and healthcare

It is a concept alien to anyone who was raised on Western Economics , basically everyone who studied economics after 1975 in the West or 1990 in India or the UK

---

Is China surging to be a superpower rapidly?

Talk to me if I am still alive in 2040 and we will see where China is at that time

Sister Bay Cafe Pioneer Bread Pudding

The Sister Bay Cafe in Sister Bay, Door County, Wisconsin, is famous for this pudding.

Yield: 4 to 6 servings

Ingredients

Bread Pudding

• 2 cups cubed day-old bread (1/2 inch pieces), crusts removed
• 2 cups milk
• 1/4 cup granulated sugar
• 3 tablespoons butter
• Dash of salt
• 2 eggs
• 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

Lemon Sauce

• 1/2 cup granulated sugar
• 1 tablespoon cornstarch
• Dash of salt
• 1 cup water
• 1 1/2 teaspoons grated lemon peel
• 2 tablespoons butter
• 1 tablespoon lemon juice
• 1 drop yellow food coloring (optional)

Instructions

Bread Pudding

1. Place bread cubes in a greased 1-quart baking dish.
2. In a saucepan, heat milk, sugar, butter and salt over low heat just until butter melts.
3. In a bowl, beat eggs; whisk in warm milk mixture.
4. Stir in vanilla extract. Pour over bread.
5. Place baking dish in a shallow pan of hot water.
6. Bake, uncovered, at 350 degrees F for 40 to 45 minutes or until a knife inserted 1 inch from the edge comes out clean.

Lemon Sauce

1. Combine sugar, cornstarch and salt in a saucepan.
2. Stir in water and lemon peel; bring to a boil. Cook and stir for 2 minutes.
3. Remove from the heat; stir in butter, lemon juice and food coloring.
4. Serve warm or cold with the pudding.
5. Refrigerate leftovers.

Why is Japan so hostile towards China? It should be the United States, not China that controls them, right?

Japan used to be nicknamed “the kingdom of home appliancess in the world”.

In the past, the most influential and popular electronic products were almost all made in Japan, whether it was televisions, video recorders, stereos, refrigerators, washing machines, cameras…all kinds of electronic equipment, including Japanese cars, Japanese magnetic levitation, Japanese components, engineering equipment, elevators…Made in Japan is everywhere. But now, can you still see them in the Chinese market?

Why did it disappear? Guess what…

Many people can think of Japanese symbols, but I’m afraid the only one left is Sora Aoi…

The Japanese economy is now in free fall.

The only remaining pillar industry in Japan is the automobile industry.

The automobile industry accounts for 40% of Japan’s industrial output and 8% of Japan’s total economy.

The automobile industry supports tens of thousands of Japanese companies and provides 5.3 million jobs in Japan, accounting for 10% of Japan’s labor force!

It can be said that once the Japanese automobile industry declines, the Japanese economy will fall into hell, and in the future it will only become a “world brothel” to make a living.

However, how long can Japan’s automobile industry prosper?

• In 2000, Japan exported 4.72 million cars and China exported 17,000 cars;
• In 2010, Japan exported 4.83 million cars and China exported 540,000 cars;
• In 2015, Japan exported 4.42 million cars and China exported 750,000 cars;
• In 2021, Japan exported 3.82 million cars and China exported 2.01 million cars;
• In the first five months of 2022, Japan exported 1.27 million cars and China exported 1.08 million cars!

Japan’s auto exports fell by 27%, while China’s auto exports increased by 135 times!

The most important thing is that Japan has no layout and no future in the field of new energy vehicles in the future.

Global new energy vehicle sales reached 6.6 million units, China occupied 53% of the global market, and Japan almost had none… Japan cannot be found in the new energy vehicle track.

Once Japan loses its core industrial pillar, what will its future be like?

Moreover, the Fed’s interest rate hike has caused the Japanese to watch the yen plummet. At the point of yen depreciation, Japan’s imports increased by 33.3% year-on-year. Among them, crude oil, coal, and other energy commodities are almost entirely dependent on imports, and Japan can only import sky-high oil prices with tears.

Since it can’t make money, Japanese has shown its fangs:

‘We won’t pretend anymore. Who wants to be friendly with China for generations? We want to contain China and defend Taiwan…’

The Taiwan Strait is the only way for Japan’s overseas trade. After the reunification of Taiwan, the Taiwan Strait will become a bridle tied around the neck of the Japanese. Recently, Chief of Staff, Maritime Self Defense Force Admiral Akira Saitō said:

If China retakes Taiwan, the Japanese Self Defense Force may intervene or counterattack.

Seeing Saito Akira’s statement, the Chinese people were very excited. The opportunity they had been waiting for for decades was finally coming.

Our ancestors, we can finally settle old and new accounts with Japan!

Our chance to open a separate page in our family tree has come.

Overseas Chinese around the world have donated money to support the Chinese People’s Liberation Army.

Even Shuai Huamin, a retired Taiwanese general, said China would have no moral qualms if it used nuclear weapons against Japan.

Akira Saitō, you must keep your word, we are counting on you. Don’t be a coward.

First time watching KELLY’S HEROES (1970) | Oddball is THE BEST!

Who was the weirdest kid in your class?

Ray was the weirdest boy I ever met in my life. To this day I’ve never come across a boy so profoundly odd as this boy Ray who was a classmate of mine.

His story is somewhat of a sad one as he was a slow student from a really poor background. Ray had a learning deficiency and was kept down some grades, making him two years older than the rest of us. He had an early growth spurt and at age 11, he could pass for a stocky and pudgy young man. This made him look absolutely ridiculous in our school uniform. Him squeezing into our generic blue shirt/khaki shorts ensemble and with his socks pulled high upon his leg reminded me of those silly yodeling Bavarian men I would see on TV advertisements.

To make it worse. Ray would never stop smiling.

He had to his credit an indefatigable attitude towards life. No matter how many insults were thrown his way (by both teachers and students), no matter how often he was bullied or was ignored when football/cricket teams were chosen or was screamed at by his teacher, the principal etc, he would simply smile and laugh away the matter.

Ray would’ve made a first rate boxer if he had chosen that direction in life. I saw Ray take several punches in play fights and not a single grimace of pain would appear on his face. During a lunch period several boys made it a game to fling stones to shoo a mangy dog that kept coming near the school for food. Ray who, for some unknown reason, was running around the field by himself ran straight into one of those stones as it collided with his head. He stopped and looked about in a confused manner and then continued running around.

No one sat near Ray during class. The teachers endorsed this practice to teach him a lesson to buck up on his schoolwork. Once, I had a falling out with my friends and they told me I was banished from the gang. Angrily, I told them I didn’t care and didn’t need them and went and did the unthinkable. I went and sat next to Ray as the entire class looked on in horror.

Ray was absolutely delighted to get a new friend. I feigned interest in being his friend to spite my gang. However, in little time, things started to get weird. I knew Ray was weird but spending the week with him made me realize the extent to his weirdness.

Firstly, I accidentally spilt some ink on the desk. I was terrified the teacher would see and I frantically looked for some tissue to wipe the mess. In my amazement I watched as Ray scooped up the ink in his palm and rubbed it into his hair. He smiled and told me that ink gives his hair a good shine.

Then we began to discuss our personal lives. I told him the bare basics about my family, as to who it composed of and he immediately began to discuss extremely cringe and taboo subjects about his family such as how he has to help his grandmother wipe her butt after she poos and how he hated when there was a water shortage because his sister had a problem with her, let’s just say ‘personal odors.’

Hearing him speak these things so openly and with a huge smile on his face made me recoil. I decided that conversation was the not the best idea for the two of us.

During recess I told Ray that I wanted to be alone for the time being and Ray queried as to why. Ray wanted us two to play ‘Catch’ (Tag) but I explained to him that it would be ridiculous for just two boys to play Catch, that we needed a big group. He then gave me a massive shove that sent me on the ground and started giggling ‘Catch me, catch me.’ He had a very effeminate manner of running and the fact that his pants were way too small and tight made him look atrocious as he giggled and ran around, waiting for me to run after him.

My friends saw all this and looked at me with pity and shook their heads in dismay. It all came to an end one morning when my best friend came to me and begged that I return to the gang. I said ‘no way.’ He proceeded to tell me that all the girls and even the teachers were starting to speculate that I was gay and Ray was my boyfriend.

With that said I immediately returned to my gang and left Ray in the dust. Sad, but that is how the mindset of an impressionable 9 year old boy can be.

I look back in regret at how unintentionally mean I was as a kid and if I were to ever encounter Ray again I would formally apologize for my behavior from decades past. I do hope that he found some measure of success and happiness in his life.

But he really was quite a weird kid.

Edit 02.02.22 I’ve met several fascinating characters in my youth. Ray was one, this ‘child genius’ named Vachel was another. Click here to read about him.

Books of Destinies – Vol. #1.5

Submitted into Contest #251 in response to: Dream up a secret library. Write a story about an adventurer who discovers it. What’s in the library? Why was it kept secret?… view prompt

Except.

A man led his six-year-old son into an office-type building that looked inconspicuous to the rest of the world. But the man knew better, having been there so many times before, that the lobby led to a spiral staircase that wound up to one room upstairs, drenched in antiquity and riches – draped in gold curtains, dripping in crystals, smelling of ink and paper, and lined with rows and rows and rows of ornately-carved bookcases. The father’s face lit up with recognition while the son’s with wonder.

“I’ve told you stories, but it’s not something to truly believe until you’ve actually seen it,” Henry told his son, who was tracing the swirls in the shelves, running his fingers over the old wood; a splinter jammed into his small hand and instantaneously healed itself – without a scratch or a drop of blood to account for it. Even Henry stopped in his tracks and stared.

“So what exactly is this place?” the son asked, already forgetting about the injury.

“The Secret Library,” Henry answered in a hushed voice. “The place that houses all the Books of Destinies. Everyone’s life story is written here and stored on these very shelves. It’s infinite, even though it’s contained in such a small space.”

“The covers are really pretty,” the son said distractedly, picking out a pale blue Book with a silver-scratched spine. A name and date were engraved at the bottom: Katya Adriana Melvina, March 14. “So everyone’s destinies are in these Book?”

Henry nodded.

“Is yours here? Can I see it?”

He showed his son to a corner, where he picked up a dark green leather Book with a scalloped cover.

“This one is yours?” the son asked, amazed, taking the Book from him. “Have you read it?”

“No one can read their own destinies, Dima. To me, it’s blank, like one of your sketchbooks.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Dimitri contemplated. “I guess we’re not supposed to know the future when we want to makes choices right now, no matter if it’s already written what our choice will be. Destiny may know it, but we don’t.”

“You’re so intuitive for your age, Dima,” Henry looked at his son with a sad smile. He didn’t need to be psychic anymore to realize the disease would get to him before he saw Dimitri grow up to be the fine young man he knew he will be, before he would truly understand what this Library meant.

Dimitri traced the date engraved in his father’s Book, hearing the thoughts in Henry’s mind. February 17^. By that point, he’d already found out his dad was sick and tried not to think about how many more of these birthdays he might still have left, tried not to think if this could have been his last one. He blinked back tears and carefully put the Book back onto the shelf. “What about my Book?”

“Your Book is a little different, Dima,” he said with almost a sorrowful glaze in his eyes. Dimitri followed him to a side wall, a bookshelf right next to a lofty stained-glass window, each panel in a shade of violet or amber. Henry gazed through the Books but Dimitri instantly gravitated toward it – a telepathic tug. He took out a burgundy Book with a fanning geometric engraving in gold, resembling flower petals or ivy leaves. He traced the shimmering shapes, a deep and lonely longing filling him, and he could sense his father’s apprehension as he turned the Book over in his hands, shocked to find Dimitri Rhanalrik, December 3.

“That’s not right, that’s not my birthday. It’s supposed to be February 14^th,” he argued, confused. He opened the Book and gasped: he saw words. It was supposed to be his destiny and he wasn’t supposed to be able to see it, but he did. He does. Supposed to, supposed to, everything about him was a long string of supposed to. “If no one is supposed to see their destinies,” he told his father, “and I can see mine, then this isn’t my destiny. This is the one I was supposed to have had – if I weren’t psychic.”

*** Present Day: Dimitri *** 

The cloyingly sweet perfume of eternal flowers and the signature dusty scent of paper always hits me first whenever I step in here. Specks and sparkles scatter off the crystal chandelier as I step into the Secret Library. I’m never entirely sure why I come here. My Book is wrong, so it’s not like I can fast-forward a few chapters to read what happens next – it’s like an old friend every time I see it, familiar after all this time but still a complete stranger to me. I’ve never read it. I never will. I could and at times I’m even tempted to. But what good what it do? It would be like reading a fantasy novel – a story so close to reality that it could be nonfiction, but it isn’t; it’s an imaginary character living in an imaginary world in his imaginary life. It’s not me. And I wonder, which one of us is it that Katya really fell in love with? I have to hope that it is me, but I’m not sure if this really is me. So maybe that’s why I visit here often anyway, when I’m confused or unsure of what to do next – perhaps because this is where I most remember Dad, and he gave me more wisdom and guidance than my inaccurate destiny ever could.

The golden pixie dust in the air swirls around me in welcoming, recognizing my psychic presence, and I swat it away, annoyed as it tickles my nose. Instinctively, I go to my Book; it’s a habit – a magnetic pull and I’m the metal. On the shelf, under the violet and amber window, I find a burgundy cover with a petal-like engraving with the title Dimitri Rhanalrik, December 3. I open it with no intention of reading it, but notice a piece of paper slotted between the pages. Funny, I never noticed this before, as I unfold the page and am struck cold.

Dear Dima,

It’s Dad.

What? Everything in me goes numb and my legs buckle under me as I slide down to the floor in disbelief. No, this can’t- this can’t be possible. But I read the words over and over and over again and they are real, and I read on, stunned.

If you’re reading this, then it means that you’ve grown up to be a fine young man. And a strong psychic. It also means that I am no longer with you.

Tears spring to my eyes but I blink them back, needing to see this clearly to be sure I’m not hallucinating.

I have a confession. I probably should have told you this a long time ago, but you were still so young. So young and innocent; you shouldn’t have to live with the consequences of my mistakes. But it seems like they have found you anyway. I couldn’t tell you back then and I know I won’t be there to tell you when you’re older.

I was psychic too.

“What?” I try to take deep breaths without hyperventilating. My dad. Was psychic? No, no, that’s impossible. It can’t – it can’t be possible. My hands shake so hard that I can barely hold on to the letter.

I know this must come as quite a shock to you. There’s no easy way of explaining this and unfortunately, it just gets more complicated. I only hope that when you finish reading this, you won’t hate me.

It all started long ago. Very long ago. I’ll spare you the exact date but let’s just say it’s been a few centuries. Some chemical reaction in the cosmos triggered Destiny to become the most powerful force in the Universe, even more so than gravity, able to align – or disrupt – the planets and life here on Earth. And it reached out to me with a proposal: the chance to understand more, know everything about how the Universe works, and the promise of immortality.

I agreed.

You must understand, Dima, I was young, in my 20s. I was an astronomy scholar and Destiny’s offer made me feel like the best, invincible. I was also incredibly naïve. I leaped at the chance of the promise of all the power ever granted. In exchange, I was supposed to be an editor, a groundskeeper of its Library. I think you see where this is going.

I think I do too and it makes me sick to my stomach and I close my eyes because if I don’t read the next words then maybe they won’t be real – the next words can be my Schrödinger’s Cat. But I open them again and the blue-inked words confirm it.

I became the Librarian of the Secret Library. Destiny was the brilliant, prolific author, and I edited the Books according to its instructions and maintained the Secret Library. Tweaking a few sentences and arranging a few books on a shelf – it seemed like such a trivial price to pay for the immortality and the invincibility. And I loved it: moving things with my mind, never getting sick or old, reading people’s minds. It gave me such a thrill, like I could have everything and anything I wanted: leading a rich life in high style without a care in the world.

In reality, I had nothing. Destiny controlled me. I had promised to do its writing and in doing so, had signed away my destiny. I never had any choices to make, though it seemed like I had it all. It took me a good few centuries to realize that. The day I met a girl names Irene – your mother – was the day I realized that no matter the power and promise of Destiny, I could never be truly happy without her, for what good would be a life forever if it was a life forever without her?

I gave it up, gave up my powers and position in the Library, and tried to turn a page on that very long chapter of my life.

However, when you were born, Dimitri, I realized that I would never be free of it, that Destiny had followed me into you. That’s why I’m writing you this. When I saw your eyes change color for the first time, like mine had all those centuries, I learned that was Destiny’s way of saying, the story must go on. I should have realized that Destiny would try to find someone to fill my position in the Library, and who better than someone who shares my psychic genes? You.

I am so sorry, Dimitri.

I never thought this could happen. It is true that your DNA is different because you’re psychic – it’s because of me, it’s all my fault. It’s tampered with because you inherited those genes from my old immortal self. I didn’t know – I never imagined – that it would pass to you when I gave it up so long before, and once I realized it, it was too late. But you, Dima, are psychic because of me, and you must take my place in the Secret Library. 

I’m sorry, Dimitri. I never wanted this for you. Please forgive me. 

*** Katya *** 

1248 Chandler Avenue is the end of a small street in a busy corner of town. The backs of brick buildings surround me, some fire escape ladders trail down to the rugged asphalt, the hum of cars passing on the adjacent street rumbles between the walls, and a few lamps light the otherwise shadowy road. By this time of the evening, dusk already settles in, setting everything under a shady film that is eerily murky.

I wouldn’t picture Dimitri lounging around in such an enigmatic place.

Or maybe I could picture him perfectly, when I reach the building and he sits on the front steps waiting for me. He is as good-looking as ever in a royal purple sweater, but there’s a mysterious aura to him that makes him almost blend into the setting. He wrings his hands and adjusts his glasses; he’s been somewhat on edge the entire day. Yet, seeing me still seems to comfort him.

“Hey, you made it,” he stands up when I come into his view.

“Yeah, took me a while to find it, but of course. What did you want to show me?” I ask, giving him a quick hug.

He turns so that we’re both looking at the building in front of us. From the outside, it looks like a regular office building, but I eventually follow Dimitri’s gaze to a faded wooden sign posted above the door, whatever once written on it worn away from years in the sun and rain, but I can still make out some of the faint lettering: Someone & Someone “Publishing Co.”. You could easily overlook it if you didn’t know it’s there and Dimitri obviously knows it there.

He pulls the brass doorknob. “The Secret Library.”

*** Dimitri *** 

“Oh wow,” Katya gasps as she steps into the Secret Library from the stairwell, eyes drinking in the charm and magic in the room. “Dimitri, what is this place?”

I cannot lie to her anymore; I need to tell her the whole truth, otherwise Destiny will keep latching onto my psychic secret to tears Katya and me apart. I don’t believe Destiny played any factor in whether Katya and I are meant to be – we fell in love despite it being written against us, and I have to hope she will still choose me knowing my psychic side.

“The Secret Library,” I repeat. “These shelves all hold the Books of Destinies – Books that have every person’s life story written, a storyline everyone unknowingly follows because that’s what Destiny chose for them.”

“What do you mean? I don’t understand.”

I sigh heavily, knowing there’s no way I can explain this rationally. “I know you don’t,” I start, burying a hand in my hair. “I didn’t think you would. It’s not something easy to understand. I can barely understand it, and I have to, I have to, Katya, but I don’t know and all I know is that it’s true and, and I have no clue where to begin explaining this to you – or myself – how to even try.” I can’t stop the words from spilling out, strangling in my throat, sentences that run into rambles that makes absolutely no sense.

Katya takes my hands in hers to steady me; she must think I’m delusional. Her touch, once so warm and comforting, now sears red hot deep through my muscles. She opens her mouth to say something, but before any words comes out, her gaze falls on a pale blue Book with a silver-scratched spine.

“Why- why does this have my name on it?” she looks at me skeptically.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Because it’s your Book of Destiny.”

“What?”

“I’m psychic,” I admit, and her brain whirls, a jolt of shock in her red aura burning me.

“What?” she repeats, squinting her eyes at me.

“Please let me explain,” I try but she throws the Book at me.

“Is this all just a big joke to you? Am I just a big joke to you?”

“No, Katya, wait!”

“Forget it!” she shoves me back as she tries to get by me in the narrow aisle, but we both end up toppling, a fall that trips me into the splintery bookshelf; I cut my hand on the sharp wood.

“Ah!” I wince from the sting even though I know it’ll be over in a second.

But Katya doesn’t know. Even furious at me, she still gasps and instinctively grabs my hand in concern – sees the gash slick with blood before it completely heals itself in front of her eyes

“What – but you – I saw,” she jumps away and stares at me in disbelief. “This: this is unnatural. You are unnatural!” she yells and races out the door, letting it swing loudly and firmly shut behind her.

I know.

I curl my knees up and bury my head in my arms. I know. I’ve known, but hearing it from her confirms it: she has made her choice.

”DEAR MR. FANTASY” – DAVY KNOWLES w/ Jeff Massey & Eric Saylors (Steepwater), march 2017

Very well done. Excellent rendition.

Sir Whiskerton and the Hench-Animal Swap: A Tale of Misunderstandings, Mischief, and a Very Confused Hen

Ah, dear reader, prepare yourself for a tale of swapped identities, comedic chaos, and one particularly exasperated hen who just wants her eggs back. Today’s story is one of absurdity, adventure, and the occasional existential crisis, all wrapped up in a whirlwind of hench-animal antics. So, grab your sense of humor and a scorecard (to keep track of who’s who), as we dive into Sir Whiskerton and the Hench-Animal Swap: A Tale of Misunderstandings, Mischief, and a Very Confused Hen.

The Swap Heard ‘Round the Farm

It all began on a quiet morning when Catnip’s hench-animals, Squeakers the crafty mouse and Ratticus the muscular rat, decided to play a prank on Bigcat’s hench-felines, Putter the scrawny Siamese and Goliath the muscle-bound Maine Coon. “Let’s switch places,” Squeakers said, his beady eyes gleaming with mischief. “It’ll be hilarious!”

Ratticus, ever the loyal sidekick, nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! We’ll show those cats who’s boss!”

Meanwhile, Putter and Goliath were lounging in Bigcat’s lair, discussing their latest scheme to “assimilate” Sir Whiskerton’s farm. “We need a plan,” Putter said, tapping his chin. “Something clever, something sneaky.”

“Or something strong,” Goliath said, flexing his muscles. “Like me!”

Before they could finalize their plan, Squeakers and Ratticus burst in, wearing makeshift cat ears and tails. “Surprise!” Squeakers said, striking a dramatic pose. “We’re your new hench-felines!”

Putter and Goliath, confused but intrigued, decided to play along. “Fine,” Putter said, shrugging. “We’ll switch places. But don’t blame us if you can’t handle the pressure.”

And so, the hench-animal swap began.

The Comedic Misunderstandings

As Squeakers and Ratticus settled into Bigcat’s lair, they quickly realized that being hench-felines was harder than it looked. “Why do we have to carry all these heavy boxes?” Ratticus grumbled, struggling under the weight of a crate of catnip.

“Because that’s what hench-felines do,” Squeakers said, rolling his eyes. “Now stop complaining and act like a cat!”

Meanwhile, Putter and Goliath were causing chaos on Catnip’s farm. “What’s the plan?” Goliath asked, scratching his head.

“The plan,” Putter said, smirking, “is to cause as much trouble as possible. Let’s start with the chickens.”

Their first target was Doris the Hen, who was in the middle of a particularly juicy bit of gossip. “Excuse me, ladies,” Putter said, interrupting the conversation. “We’re here to… uh… collect your eggs.”

Doris squawked in alarm. “Collect our eggs? Who do you think you are?”

“We’re Catnip’s new hench-animals,” Goliath said, flexing his muscles. “And we’re here to take over!”

Doris, ever the drama queen, flapped her wings in distress. “This is an outrage! Sir Whiskerton, help!”

The Feline Intervention

Determined to restore order, Sir Whiskerton called an emergency meeting. “Clearly, the hench-animal swap is causing… issues,” he said, flicking his tail. “But fear not! I have a plan.”

With the help of Doris the Hen, Sir Whiskerton devised a solution: they would trick the swapped hench-animals into switching back by staging a fake treasure hunt. “We’ll plant a fake map leading to a ‘hidden treasure,’” Sir Whiskerton said, adjusting his monocle. “When they follow it, they’ll end up back where they belong.”

Doris nodded enthusiastically. “And I’ll make sure the chickens play along. This is going to be fun!”

The Fake Treasure Hunt

The plan was set into motion. Sir Whiskerton and Doris planted a fake map in Bigcat’s lair, leading to a “hidden treasure” on Catnip’s farm. Squeakers and Ratticus, ever the opportunists, immediately fell for the ruse. “A treasure map!” Squeakers said, his eyes gleaming. “This is our chance to strike it rich!”

Meanwhile, Putter and Goliath found a similar map in Catnip’s lair, leading to a “hidden treasure” on Bigcat’s farm. “A treasure map!” Putter said, smirking. “This is our chance to prove our worth!”

As the swapped hench-animals followed their respective maps, they inevitably crossed paths in the middle of the farm. “What are you doing here?” Squeakers asked, narrowing his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” Putter shot back, crossing his arms.

Before a full-blown argument could erupt, Sir Whiskerton and Doris stepped in. “Congratulations!” Sir Whiskerton said, clapping his paws. “You’ve found the treasure!”

“What treasure?” Ratticus asked, scratching his head.

“The treasure of understanding,” Doris said, flapping her wings dramatically. “By walking in each other’s paws—or claws—you’ve learned what it’s like to be someone else.”

The Moral of the Story

As the hench-animals reflected on their experiences, they realized that Sir Whiskerton and Doris were right. “Being a hench-feline is harder than it looks,” Squeakers admitted.

“And being a hench-animal is… kind of fun,” Putter said, smirking.

The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: Sometimes, walking in someone else’s paws (or claws) helps you understand them better. Whether you’re a crafty mouse, a muscle-bound rat, or just a cat trying to keep the peace, empathy and understanding are the real treasures.

A Happy Ending

With the hench-animals back in their rightful places, the farm returned to its peaceful routine. Squeakers and Ratticus resumed their mischievous antics, while Putter and Goliath returned to their scheming ways. But now, they had a newfound respect for each other—and a shared appreciation for the chaos they caused.

As for Sir Whiskerton, he returned to his sunbeam, content in the knowledge that he had once again saved the day. The farm was calm, the animals were happy, and Doris… well, Doris was already planning her next dramatic performance.

And so, dear reader, we leave our heroes with the promise of new adventures, new misunderstandings, and hopefully, no more hench-animal swaps. Until next time, may your days be filled with laughter, empathy, and just a little bit of feline genius.

The End.

I visit a Tokyo cardiologist once every 2 months.
Being an old fart, I have a set routine that adds some interest to an otherwise boring afternoon of shuffling between waiting rooms, waiting for blood tests, pissing in cups, etc.

Soon as the tests are finished, I walk about 400m to get a cup of coffee at a Japanese chain (Doutor) I only ever visit 6 times a year, on heart-doctor day.

Standard foam

Two months ago I again went through those same old ropes and on the way out of the coffee shop I pointed at the coffee, gave a thumbs-up sign and nodded my thanks to the barista for a particularly well-crafted coffee.

Last Friday, two months later, I’m back to see the same doctor, the same chemist and the same coffee shop. I ordered the same coffee and that same barista I’d nodded to 60 days ago, who wasn’t even working the counter, must have spotted me and rushed to the coffee machine to fill my order.
Here’s what she made and passed to the girl at the counter to hand me.

She’d waited 2 months to return the compliment

I know for sure, two months from now, if she’s there, I’ll get a big beaming smile and a damn fine cup of coffee. Quite likely, not a word will pass between us.

Only in Japan.

Donald Trump seems to believe that temporarily disadvantaging the US people economically is part of a long-term strategy to make the U.S. people phenomenally wealthy. By what parameters is he working?

Rich people are terrified of inflation. If inflation gets bad enough, like Weimar Germany bad, then everyone becomes a billionaire because a loaf of bread costs a billion dollars.

Hyperinflation could wipe out Donald Trump’s wealth in a heartbeat, so eliminating inflation is high on his list of priorities. And how do you eliminate inflation? It’s simple.

You have a nice depression.

Have a really painful recession, the kind where people lose their homes and their jobs and their life savings, and I guarantee you when the country comes out the other side, inflation will be gone. Surely a little human suffering is a small price to pay to achieve maximal benefit to millionaires and billionaires!

Why do we have inflation in the first place? Well, the economy almost collapsed during COVID. In order to save the country, first Trump and then Biden essentially printed money and distributed it to the American people, to the tune of $3.5 trillion. Nobody turned that cash down; I sure didn’t. You can’t inject that kind of money into an economy without it overheating and causing inflation. The economic miracle Biden gets no credit for was the soft landing he engineered for the economy after COVID. By rights, we should have experienced an outright depression in the wake of the economic and social disaster; instead, the economy stepped away from the precipice and we experienced a full recovery, albeit with lingering side effects.

Biden didn’t let the economy collapse. He had too much empathy and concern for the American people. Donald Trump and Elon Musk have no such scruples. Why should they care? They’re not going to feel any pain.

F. Scott Fitzgerald described the phenomenon in The Great Gatsby:

“They were careless people, [Donald] and [Elon]—they smashed up things and creatures and then retreated back into their money or their vast carelessness, or whatever it was that kept them together, and let other people clean up the mess they had made.”

What three things should a person avoid once they are past 70 years old?

I will add one thing to the fine list you have already received.

Avoid…Vanity injuries

This class of injuries is caused by doing things you shouldn’t do anymore, such as climbing ladders or shovelling snow. You do them because you don’t want to admit you are old, and you don’t want others to think you are old. Yes, I can hear the ripped 70 y/o’s screaming as they read this, protesting about how fit they are, but nobody is the same at 70 as they were at 60. Maybe you can still shovel snow but can’t do it as fast as your younger self or your younger neighbors. If you try to keep up with them, your back will likely go “twang” and have you hobbling around on a cane for six weeks, looking real old.

It doesn’t take much to push an old body too far. Say you are a 70 y/o guy doing your daily 2-mile walk around the park’s fitness trail, proud of your brisk pace, when you hear familiar female voices chatting in the far distance behind you. Two 60 y/o ladies, Betty and Sue Ann, are taking their daily power walk. Slowly but surely the voices grow louder as they gain on you. This is intolerable. You can’t let two old women pass you, so you speed up, taking longer strides than your old legs can handle. Somehow you survive your workout with a personal record for the course, but it will take a week of rest, heating pads, and ibuprofen before you walk again.

The list goes on and on. I finally conceded ten years ago, at age 70, that I could no longer hop out of the pool at the end of my swim, but had to climb out like an old person or make my way to the side where there is a ladder or stairs. This lesson was learned the hard way, with an attempted hop that caused a strained groin that took forever to heal.

After I post this, I will make my way down the stairs, and out the door to the end of the driveway to fetch the newspaper. I am able to bend down and get it, but early in the morning, before the back has warmed up, the prudent thing to use is the gadget below even if the neighbors are watching.

image source: Amazon

First Time Hearing “Van Halen” Eruption Guitar Solo | Rere Reacts

What stops homeless people from just getting a job at a local gas station or a restaurant?

No one would hire them.

All right, not “no one”, but hardly anyone.

Whenever someone talks like getting a job is just a matter of wandering in and saying you want one, I honestly wonder what kind of life they’ve lived. Has it been your experience that jobs are that easy to get? Or have you never actually had to look for a job?

Businesses don’t exist to provide employment to people who need it, in fact, they have very little interest in hiring the people who need it most. Their interest is in running a successful business and making money (they can’t stay in business if they do not).

Even if we imagine some idealized homeless person, who was clean, well-groomed, well-spoken, able to keep schedules, easily able to learn and keep the company’s rules and processes, etc., etc., most businesses would still be very reluctant to hire them. A homeless person has no permanent address, no credit record, no safe place to sleep, and probably no access to transportation. Where are they going to get clean clothes for work? How are they going to shower every day? How are they going to get to work on time reliably? If this person is poor, desperate, and transient, how am I going to have confidence that he’s not going to steal from the till and disappear? After all, this guy has nothing to lose. And hey, a clean-cut, polite college student from a good family just walked in to apply for the same position. Hmmmm, which should I choose?

And this ignores many of the realities of homelessness. A large number of homeless people have substantial physical or mental handicaps, and frequently substance abuse problems. People with such problems are very likely to fall into homelessness, and living on the streets rarely makes them any better. Many homeless people come from poor backgrounds, often rife with abuse and neglect, and so weren’t taught basic life skills that middle class people take for granted: like interacting with people in a socially acceptable way, keeping a schedule, taking initiative in the workplace, following rules and respecting authority. It’s easy to imagine that everyone knows how to do all these things, when you’ve been raised with them from infancy. Someone who grew up in grinding poverty often doesn’t see things the same.

Many homeless people have criminal records of one kind or another. These can be a cause of homelessness, or a result of it (it’s very easy to run afoul of the law when living on the streets and struggling to survive every single day).

So, if a homeless guy walks into your business with obvious mental health issues, a long criminal record, and a drug problem, what are the odds you’re going to hire him?

Homelessness is a deep and long-term problem with no easy solutions. Anyone who thinks the solution is “hey, get a job!” is remarkably ignorant about how the world actually works.

Vintage fun pictures

What are the differences between Manus and DeepSeek (China) and GPT (USA)? Which one is considered better?

Manus, developed by Monica under the Butterfly Effect umbrella, is a fully autonomous AI agent designed to handle complex tasks without human intervention. It can sort resumes, analyze stock trends, and even build websites, with some reports suggesting it outperforms OpenAI’s Deep Research model (though more benchmarks are needed to confirm). Hype is that it is pushing AI autonomy but it’s still criticized for errors and privacy concerns, meaning it’s powerful but not perfect.

DeepSeek is China’s open-source AI disruptor, built for efficiency and designed to undercut Western AI models at a fraction of the cost. Its R1(fine tuned for specific task) model rivals OpenAI’s o1, and its open-source nature is forcing a shift in AI economics. Initially it was hyped as China’s AI Sputnik moment but the reality was that DeepSeek was more about cost efficiency. But make no mistake, cheap, high-quality AI at scale is an innovation in itself.

And then there’s ChatGPT, the OG of the OG. It’s still the best overall AI. They are hailed as the pinnacle of AI language models, setting benchmarks for others. It can do almost anything. A bit pricey for full on usage of it’s capability but it is the best of the best.

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Meanwhile, Google is still scrambling to catch up after fumbling AI for years. Their Gemini is overhyped, politically sanitized, and underwhelming. I think gemini are politically biased towards democrats, woke ideas, etc and keep praising them but result wise it is complete garbage. The results show’s us that they are going no-where.

How funny that originally GPT was incepted in their research department but google only wanted money and are more of AD revenue company so they snubbed it initially but when ChatGPT turned out to be huge potential, they are running to catch the missing boat.

But with every release of new more capable models from Chinese researchers and start ups, it’s best for Google to drop out of that race or focus only on hardware or infrastructure side with more R & D on their TPU stuffs.

If anything, they should follow Microsoft or Perplexity footsteps and shift toward embedding open-source models like DeepSeek.

THE SECRET LIBRARY OF MYTHRIA

Submitted into Contest #251 in response to: Dream up a secret library. Write a story about an adventurer who discovers it. What’s in the library? Why was it kept secret?… view prompt

Picture this, I found myself deep within the enigmatic Whispering Woods. It’s where the trees whisper secrets like chatty grandmothers, “Did you hear about Oakley? She’s sprouting new leaves!”And the streams, oh man, they play practical jokes like they’re auditioning for a prank show. They wait until you’re not looking and—splash! —right in the face. It’s like the forest version of a whoopee cushion.Allow me to introduce myself. I am Finn, the adventurer. Or, as my companions affectionately dub me, “The one who stumbles upon treasure despite his missteps.” It’s almost like a superpower. My foot has a homing device if there’s a banana peel within a hundred miles. But hey, it’s a talent. Some people have GPS, and I have GTS—Goes To Stumble. 

Now, let’s return to the tale. I find myself in these woods, right? And it’s like nature’s very own comedy club. Birds are chirping in perfect timing as if they’re rehearsing their stand-up routines for open mic night. And the squirrels, oh the squirrels, they’re like miniature parkour experts on a sugar high. One moment they’re there, the next they’re gone, leaving you questioning if you just witnessed a rodent rave in your imagination.

 

Here I am, in pursuit of the elusive Diamond Dragonfly. Sounds majestic, doesn’t it? But it’s more like a shimmering mosquito with a severe attention deficit. I’m stumbling through the woods, swatting at this iridescent pest resembling a deranged mime. And, of course, I managed to lose my way. I mean, utterly and hopelessly lost. Like GPS says, “You’re on your own, pal,” lost.

 

As I’m meandering, I catch sight of this faint, pinkish glow flickering through the trees. And I ponder, “Is that a celebration, or am I about to encounter extraterrestrial life?” You never know in these woods. So, I resolve to investigate because why not? It’s not like I have a superior plan. I push through the undergrowth and stumble upon this colossal oak tree. I’m talking gigantic, like a skyscraper for squirrels. If this tree had a reception, it’d inquire if you desired a room with a view.

 

At the base of this behemoth, there’s a trapdoor. Not just any trapdoor, but one with glowing runes around it. The kind of thing that screams, “You’re either finding treasure or releasing a curse.” And let me tell you, I’ve got a 50/50 track record on those.

 

These runes are humming some weird, magical tune like if you gave a toddler a synthesizer. “Only the seeker of laughs may enter,” it says. And I’m like, “Well, I did laugh when I fell into that mud puddle this morning.” So, I pull the door open, and it creaks like an old man trying to get out of a chair. It’s like the door’s auditioning for a horror movie sound effect.

 

I go, the flashlight in hand, and each step sounds like a cartoon—boings, squeaks, and even a whoopee cushion or two. I’m half expecting a giant anvil to drop on my head. I reach the bottom, and it’s warmer than my Aunt Mabel’s kitchen at Christmas. Smells like old books and freshly baked cookies. I think, “Either I’ve found a magical library, or I’m about to get eaten by a very literate witch.”

 

I step into this underground chamber, walls lined with bookshelves taller than my apartment building. There’s a grand table covered in scrolls and maps and wait for it—a rubber chicken and clown shoes. It’s like the wizard Merlin moonlighting as a stand-up comedian.

 

I’m flipping through books like “The Art of Prank Calls” and “Chronicles of the Clown Kings.” And there’s this book, “The Guide to Legendary Laughs.” It’s got illustrations that are so funny that I’m half expecting them to jump off the page and give me a high five.

 

Then I found this section marked “Forbidden Funnies.” The shelves are chained up like they’re holding Hannibal Lecter’s joke book. And the signs are like, “Beware: Laughter is powerful, but power can corrupt absolutely.” And I’m like, “Is this a library or a Jedi temple for comedians?”

 

So, naturally, I pick the lock. Because, hey, who can resist an excellent forbidden funny? The book I pull out is ancient. It’s called “The Tome of Forgotten Pranks.” And as soon as I open it, blue smoke puffs out like it’s vaping mischief.

 

Suddenly, this voice booms, “Who dares to unlock the forbidden?” I look up and see this spectral librarian floating above me. She’s got this glow like she’s been binging on radioactive ghost stories and invisible suspenders snapping against her. I think, “Great, I’m about to get ghost-wedged.”

 

“I-I’m Finn,” I stammer. “I didn’t mean any harm. I’m just… curious.”

 

She grins. “Curiosity is fine, but laughter can be a dangerous weapon. The knowledge here is powerful. In the wrong hands, it can bring great hilarity—and chaos.”

 

I nod, closing the book like I’m defusing a bomb. “I get it. But why hide all this?”

 

She sighs, shimmering like a glitchy hologram. “Long ago, a dark jester tried to use this library’s power for chaos. So, the jesters hid it away. Only those with pure intentions and a good sense of humor can find it.”

 

So, there I am, standing in the middle of this magical, laugh-filled library, promising to use these jokes wisely. Who wouldn’t want to save the world with a good punchline? Imagine defeating a villain by making them laugh so hard they forget their evil plans. “Hey, Dr. Doom, what did the tomato say to the cucumber? You’re in a pickle now!” Bam, the world was saved.

 

I settle into the Secret Library of Mythria like a kid in a candy store—or, more accurately, like a comedian in a joke factory. I spend months diving into these books and let me tell you, it’s the ultimate comedy boot camp. Forget boring workouts; I’m doing stand-up squats and one-liner lunges. I even start dreaming in punchlines. One night, I dreamt I was a carrot in a stand-up competition, and my best joke was, “Lettuce turnip the beet!” I woke up laughing so hard I nearly fell out of my hammock.

 

Every day in the library is a new adventure. Once, I found a scroll titled “The Ultimate Practical Joke: How to Make the Moon Disappear.” It turns out it was just a recipe for an invisibility punch—note to yourself and do not drink that before a date. Another day, I discovered a map that led to a hidden section called “The Comedy Vault.” It was like Fort Knox, but instead of gold bars, it had joke bars. “Why did the scarecrow become a successful comedian? Because he was outstanding in his field!”

 

The best part? The library isn’t just books. It’s got these enchanted artifacts. I find a rubber chicken that squawks out punchlines when you squeeze it. “Why don’t scientists trust atoms? Because they make up everything!” I also found a pair of oversized clown shoes that squeak out classic one-liners with every step. I tell you, there’s nothing like walking around and hearing, “I told my wife she was drawing her eyebrows too high. She looked surprised.”

 

And then there’s the laughter. Oh, the laughter! The library walls are enchanted to echo with the laughter of everyone who’s ever told a joke there. It’s like having a built-in audience that never gets tired. You could tell the same joke ten times, and the laughter gets louder each time. It’s comedy heaven.

 

But it’s not all fun and games. The books and scrolls also teach me the power of humor to heal and unite people. I read about ancient jesters who used humor to ease tensions during wars and clowns who brought smiles to the faces of the sick and the weary. It’s a reminder that laughter isn’t just about jokes—it’s about connection, joy, and sometimes, survival.

 

After months of this comedic treasure hunt, I feel ready to share what I’ve learned. Every time I leave the library, I take a bit of that magic with me. My backpack contains joke books, enchanted whoopee cushions, and scrolls of timeless wisdom. I hit the road, ready to bring laughter to every corner of the world.

 

I start performing in taverns, town squares, and anywhere people will listen. And the reactions are priceless. I once made a grumpy blacksmith laugh so hard that he forged a horseshoe into a perfect circle. A farmer’s laugh was so contagious it got his chickens clucking in rhythm. And during a particularly tough winter, my jokes helped keep spirits high and bellies warm with laughter.

 

And that’s how I found the Secret Library of Mythria. It taught me that sometimes, the best adventures start with getting hopelessly lost. And who knows? Maybe one day, you’ll stumble into your hidden library or find a book that makes you laugh until your sides hurt.

 

Thank you, and goodnight! And remember, always keep a good joke in your back pocket—it might save the day.

Who is the most mysterious man who ever lived?

Actually, it would be a girl. Olivia Farnsworth, 11 years old. She is mysterious because no one else in the world, not now nor in history, has ever suffered from her disorder. She is missing chromosome 6 – a condition not that rare, but she manifests all three possible symptoms. Which makes Olivia Farnsworth unique.

As a child, she never cried. At the age of six, she got a bad cut on her lip. Doctors had to operate on her. Indifferent to the pain, Olivia was not given any anesthetic.

She was then hit by a car and dragged for about 30 meters. The skin was torn from her torso and foot. But apart from a certain curiosity, Olivia remained indifferent to the matter. She got up and walked away. The first symptom.

By the ripe old age of nine months, Olivia had lost all desire to sleep. No naps. No bedtime stories. After three days and nights of non-stop activity, the doctors decided to give her some medication. At least her parents would be able to get some sleep. Ten years later, and she still has to take sleeping pills. Otherwise, Olivia would never sleep. The second symptom.

Olivia didn’t like baby food. She wanted a milkshake. Only milkshakes. And when she didn’t get one, she waited. She wouldn’t touch any other food. Her parents decided to try to keep her fasting, in the hope that hunger would push her to swallow something more nutritious. But it didn’t work. Olivia wasn’t hungry – she just wanted the pleasant taste of sugar on her palate. The third symptom.

Today, Olivia, thanks to medication, sleeps about six hours a night. She is no longer addicted to milkshakes, but she loves chicken soup; apparently she does not like fruits, vegetables, and fiber. Sometimes violent, Olivia does not mind punching and kicking other people. Incapable of understanding pain, she is not bothered by the idea of ​​inflicting it on others. And her parents take her to the doctor regularly, because otherwise she would not be able to discern the symptoms of the disease.

What the future holds for Olivia as she grows into a teenager, an adult, and an old woman is anyone’s guess. Let’s hope her uniqueness proves to be a blessing.

Oklahoma Onion Cheeseburgers

Yield: 4

Ingredients

• 2 pounds ground beef (80% lean or leaner)
• Salt and pepper
• 2 cups thinly sliced sweet onion
• 8 slices American cheese
• 4 potato sandwich buns, split, toasted

Instructions

1. Heat griddle flat top or large cast iron skillet over medium heat until hot.
2. Meanwhile, divide beef evenly into eight portions. Lightly shape into loose balls. Season with salt and pepper, as desired.
3. Evenly place half of balls on griddle; cook for 1 to 2 minutes or until bottoms are browned and crispy. Watch onions carefully to prevent burning!
4. Place 1/4 cup onion on top of each ball. Turn balls onto onions, smashing into thin patties with a spatula or burger press. Cook for 1 to 2 minutes or until instant-read thermometer inserted horizontally into center registers 160 degrees F.* Remove from griddle; keep warm.
5. Repeat with remaining beef.
6. Top patties with a cheese slice; stack 2 patties together. Serve on potato buns.

Notes

* Cooking times are for fresh or thoroughly thawed ground beef. Color is not a reliable indicator of ground beef doneness.

What is the most significant random act of kindness you have ever experienced in your life?

This is my father. He’s 90 years old. My dad has a back problem that prevents him from walking. He was released from the hospital a couple of days ago. He needs special care 24/7.

This is my mother. She’s 81. My mom loves to help people and she loves to express her appreciation for the people she cares about through giving gifts.

It’s easy to take advantage of my mother’s kindness. The moment anyone makes an emotional connection with her, she will give him/her something — it can be anything, from a drink from her fridge to money or works of art from her home.

Sadly, my mom is struggling with her memory, which makes it easier to take advantage of her.

Here’s the problem: my parents can’t be alone anymore, so we have had to hire nursing caregivers to help 24/7.

Believe me, finding decent caregivers has been a nightmare!

Some caregivers lack patience, others don’t have any empathy, others don’t have any experience… and several have been opportunistic thieves.

After several months of trial and error, I’m extremely grateful because we now have two great human beings taking care of my parents.

They’re different from all the rest we have hired before.

Both are from Venezuela. They have political asylum in Mexico. Both of them left their families behind in Venezuela and have experienced pain and sacrifice.

Every week, I’m blown away by the high work ethic these two individuals have. They report to us everything that my mom gives away to them.

Last week, they returned this sculpture to me:

Today, they gave me this ring my mom has had since 1961:

These are gifts from my mom to her caregivers. I respect her decision, as they’re not taking advantage of my mother’s mental condition — but it takes significant love, respect, ethics and kindness from these caregivers to report to us everything she gives away.

Having patient, honest, loving people taking care of my parents is kindness like I’ve never experienced before in my life.

What exactly is the problem with falling birth rates?

The biggest problem I can see is Western governments thinking we need mass immigration to make up the numbers.

This to maintain the tax base and provide us with carers in our old age. The problems with this assume that integration will occur and Abdul’s or Ali’s children will become English, or Belgian etc etc.

A glance at any inner city and a cursory examination of human nature blows massive holes in that argument. Tens of 1000’s in a society of millions and slowly integration will occur. Britain has done this many times- sometimes not entirely painlessly but eventually the children of Immigrants become as ‘us’ and are ‘us’.

Immigrants in their 100’s of 1000s a year build ghettos in cities and makes assimilation unnecessary for the immigrants – who live as they did at home.

Currently we’re importing a million a year- a number that’s seems unbelievable ( it was 1.2m from June 23 to June 24) and each one supposedly nominally increased GDP, despite 500.000 being none working dependants, alongside others that headed towards unemploymen, and all degraded our decaying infrastructure by further overloading it and consequently made life marginally worse for those already here.

And let’s suppose that their plan actually works- and within a generation they’ve all become ‘ English ‘- with the reproductive fecundity of the indigenous- below replacement. Do we carry on importing people to look after the new people and make up the numbers until there’s standing room only?

In Humanities perhaps 300.000+ year history only the 20th C stands out as the one where the population exploded to 7 billion or so. Most of the time we numbered in the 1000’s to millions. We seem headed towards a shrinking population – perhaps not this century but certainly the foretold 10’s of billions that the doom sayers predicted is not happening.

To what extent is Europe dependent on the U.S. in terms of politics, economy, and military?

EU has its own politics. But in geopolitics, it is subservient to the US. Cases in point. It was dragged into the Ukraine war, and made an enemy of Russia. Dared not utter a word of protest when Nord Stream 2 was bombed out. Spent years to reach a trade and investment agreement with China, but dared not rectify it when Biden frowned.

Now that US has in effect abandoned NATO, the major EU countries are talking about an independent Euro military. This is nothing new. France has been talking about Euro autonomy for years. Whether this time it can find the courage and conviction in the face of reality is to be seen. But an independent Euro military cannot exist without independent geopolitics.

EU and US economy should be equal, albeit it is weaker on the technology side. But EU dared not assert itself to challenge the US. Cases in point. The euro is only a shadow of the dollar in international finance, even though it started with high ambition to be an alternative to it. The dollar had dominated EU’s energy trade when the US accounted for less than 5% in this trade. It has become the big supplier of LNG to the EU. I reckon the trade is done in dollar not euro.

Dare it assert itself now? Trump wants to impose tariffs on its goods, and talks about it in harsh terms, such as its trade with the US had been for years a ripped off for the US. We shall see when Trump makes his decision of tariff for the US, and how the EU responds.

Would you move to a small town that had zero percent crime?

Hell no. A little bit of crime is so invigorating. Some light robberies, a bit of car theft, some vandalism… the spice of life.

Just kidding.

I have moved to a place that is as good as crime free, and I love it that way. The only thing we had recently was that some kids trashed a bus shelter, and some other kids broke into someone’s house to “find a treasure” but eventually just made off with a bottle of wine from Alsace and ruined an antique desk.

That was two years ago.

I think the only crime we’ve had since then was cat toilet neglect and eating yogurt that was past the expiration date.

The place looks like this:

The crime free life comes at the price of commuting 50 km to work each way, having no local shopping beyond groceries, and putting up with wolves moseying through every now and then.

I prefer it.

Apocalypse Now (1979) First Time Watching! Movie Reaction!!