Anyone who has ever had to mow grass know that there are many different kinds of grasses out there. And though the years, I have found my favorites and my not so favorite varieties.

I tend to love long and tall grasses that grow for a few weeks making a nice thick and rich (moist) and lush carpet of greenery. But there are other kinds as well. Wispy grasses that blow in the wind, and spongy (Southern) grasses that hide dog shit.

Here are some different kinds of grass used in lawns…

Just a nice diversion. Today…

Yeah. The USA is using Israel to attack the Middle Est. Same methodology.

Explosions have been seen and heard in Qatar’s capital, Doha.

Smoke is seen rising over a significant area.  Similar to the type and size of smoke seen after an air strike.

Has Israel attacked Qatar?

UPDATE 9:42 AM EDT —

Word is pouring out of the capital city Doha in the country of Qatar making claims of a Doble-cross.

According to sources in Doha, the entire political bureau of HAMAS was called to a meeting in Doha, to agree to President Donald Trump’s latest peace proposal to settle the troubles in GAZA.   When the meeting convened, the sources say Israel ATTACKED the meeting.  It appears Israeli fighter jets flew into Qatar air space and bombed the capital city.

It is believed that many, if not ALL, of the HAMAS political bureau, are dead.

UPDATE 9:55 AM EDT —

It is CONFIRMED.  This was an Israeli attack upon the Capital city of Qatar.   Israel is now openly admitting it, they called it “Operation Summit of Fire.

Once again, Israel bombs peace negotiations, and has done so in someone else’s country.

Worse: The United States knew about the attack, gave a “Green light” and also reportedly provided real-time intelligence to make certain all the people that Israel wanted to kill, had arrived at the location to be bombed.

It is impressive and a positive change not only for the Loess Plateau itself, but also for the North China Plain.

The Loess Plateau in Northwest China is named after the thick layer of fine windblown soil that covers this region, often kilometers deep. This soil type is found in 20% of the world’s lands, including the American Mid-West. The word Loess is derived from the German word Löss, first used to describe this soil type. In Chinese, the word used is 黄土, literally “yellow earth”.

Unlike attempts to turn deserts green by pumping ground water to the surface in areas like the Tarim Basin, which are questionable from an environmental sustainability standpoint, the Loess Plateau is different. There is sufficient rainfall to support this reforestation effort without depleting groundwater reserves.

Historically, the Loess Plateau was forested and along with the Central Plains, are the cradles of the Chinese Civilization, on the Upper and Middle stretches of the Yellow River: the Majiayao/Qijia and Yangshao Cultures. The mineral rich silt from the Loess Plateau fertilized the North China Plain downstream, which traditionally supported the majority of the Chinese population until the Song Dynasty.

The ecological decline of the Loess Plateau due to a combination of deforestation, agricultural over-exploitation, and climactic change over the last two millennia had unfortunately led to the scarification of the land by deep gullies carved by flash floods during times of intermittent rainfall, followed by intense drought the rest of the year.

Reforestation and filling in of gullies through damming mud flows in the Loess Plateau reduces the downstream silt load of the Yellow River and its tributaries. This reduces the silt deposition rate and the rising of the riverbed above the surrounding land downstream.

The notorious flood risk of the lower Yellow River over the millennia is a direct result of this. When the river breaks from its elevated levees, floods are unleashed over the surrounding land below as new courses to the sea are carved out.

The Yellow River had changed course multiple times in history because of this, wildly swinging its outlet to the sea from north of the Shandong Peninsula to its south during the Southern Song Dynasty, and back again in recent Republican/PRC times.

While the elevation of the existing riverbed above surrounding lands is not about to change anytime soon, the reduction of siltation slows this process down. Conceivably, the day when the Yellow River runs clear may be possible in the future.

Kepler-22b – The Alien World That Shouldn’t Exist

How do you evaluate the emergence of the “Conquer Australia” topic on Chinese social media?

Not all Chinese contents are written by regular Chinese. Taiwanese also speak and write in Chinese.

Yes there’s been a new trend of “conquer Australia” post on Chinese social medias lately.

But that’s only half the sentence.

The complete sentence is “conquer Australia instead of Taiwan”.

The posts reason that since both Taiwan and Australia have some 20 million people, and invading either one would draw the same kind of response from the US and its allies, China should just invade Australia instead of Taiwan, because the reward is far greater.

It’s a laughable dumb proposition and we Chinese see through it with just one glance:

The Taiwanese 1450 corp are on the move again. They often shill on Chinese social medias trying to influence Chinese opinions.

But no right-minded Chinese would see taking over Taiwan as an invasion, or comparable to attacking Australia which is another country, or see the US react in the same way for the two. Nor is our insistance on taking back Taiwan related to getting more land and resources. A normal Chinese sees Taiwan as putting an end to the Chinese Civil War and has no interest in going beyond our borders.

It’s just typical Taiwanese propaganda trying to get China to fight someone else instead of Taiwan.

Silly and pathetic.

Grilled Texas Shrimp

Yield: 6 servings

Ingredients

• 1/4 cup vegetable oil
• 1/4 cup tequila
• 1/4 cup red wine vinegar
• 2 tablespoons Mexican lime juice
• 1 tablespoon ground red chiles
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
• 1 red bell pepper, finely chopped
• 24 large raw shrimp, peeled and de-veined (tails left on)

Instructions

1. Mix all ingredients except shrimp in shallow glass or plastic dish.
2. Stir in shrimp.
3. Cover and refrigerate for 1 hour.
4. Remove shrimp from marinade, reserving marinade.
5. Thread 4 shrimp on each of six (8 inch) metal skewers.
6. Grill over medium coals, turning once, until pink, 2 to 3 minutes on each side.
7. Heat marinade to boiling in a non-reactive saucepan. Reduce heat to low. Simmer uncovered until bell pepper is tender, about 5 minutes. Serve with shrimp.

Notes

If you would prefer to broil the shrimp instead of grilling them, place the skewered shrimp on a broiler pan rack. Broil with tops about 4 inches from heat, turning once, until pink, 2 to 3 minutes on each side.

What do you hate about Brazil?

• Extreme poverty and inequality and how it’s naturalized. The poor are seen as disposable and their lives are worthless.
• How goods are expensive while wages are low, which punishes the poor and enables the perpetuation of what I described above.
• How the super rich pay little to no taxes by pulling fiscal and accounting tricks while the poor pay loads of it whenever they buy necessary items and the middle class pays a third of their salaries.
• The political climate in the last 10 or 12 years. I didn’t like it before either, but it became unbearable on a day to day level.
• How gullible and superstitious so many people are compared to other countries.
• Interest rates are insane. Especially if you have credit card debt.
• How it costs an arm and a leg to travel to the other side of the country, so it’s difficult to know all of it when there’s so much to see.
• How people can’t say no and be straight forward about what they mean without sugarcoating it and going through a barrage of chit chat and banalities first.
• How you sometimes feel prey to what I call the “dictatorship of joy”. You need to be sociable, outgoing and into having fun in group or people will think you’re an a-hole. Not everyone everywhere, but it’s definitely a thing.
• Similarly, and this relates to the previous two, if you don’t correspond to the local stereotype you might get in social trouble. For instance, if you don’t care about football you’ll have no chit chat to share before a meeting which might influence the outcome of actual business and make people find you arrogant. And if you don’t like to spend hours in a “boteco” (dive bar, usually with tables on the sidewalk) drinking beer you might find yourself without many friends after a while. Basically, you’re sometimes almost forced to be excited, passionate, joyful and extroverted.

People wait all year for this. Personally, I’d rather crash a motorcycle. Which, of course, means I’m a traitor to the fatherland.

There are other things of course.
And, of course, I like, even love, many things about Brazil as well. It’s a complex country and I have complex feelings about it.

Witches Get Stitches

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

Mona Heptinstall winced. She didn’t have any money to buy a drink. She didn’t have any money at all; she was only a young schoolgirl. But the sight of all these women put her at ease a little. And God knew that she needed somewhere to feel safe right now. Mona ducked into the shop, past the few tables outside occupied by little old ladies sitting in the shade.

The aroma inside the teahouse was exotic and familiar, exciting and cosy. Steam wafted from the rims of mugs, none of which were matching. It was as though the owner had put serious effort into ensuring all crockery sets were different. Women sat clustered into groups and pairs, chatting away. Some sat solo, unconcerned with their lack of company. They smiled, contented and closed-eyed, into the sunshine while sipping their brews. On the walls, various posters and flags hung. There was something about flowers and plants here. There was something about animals being friends there. The symbol for females – the circle above a cross – was here. Rainbow flags and a flag with light blue, pink, and white stripes hung there. Plant pots housed a forest’s worth of greenery, growing in every direction. The flowers crawled up stakes and dangled from shelves. And dog-eared books about cooking, herbology, feminism, and equal rights were everywhere.

Mona’s thudding heart slowed, and her stitched-up eyebrow settled into a steady pulse. This teahouse was a nice place, a good place. One that she imagined that Grubby Gilbert wouldn’t think to check. She glanced over her shoulder out the window into the sun-drowned street outside.

Grubby Gilbert Boyd came plodding along as if on cue, a frown etched upon his bovine countenance. His pot belly bounced as he slowed to a trot, his head jerking around like a pigeon’s. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead. Beneath his food-stained shirt, his chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. His eyes passed over the teahouse, and he didn’t seem to register it was there. Then, he moved on. A few seconds later, Gilbert had passed the shop and disappeared down the street.

She couldn’t help but grin at the boy’s stupidity. If only it were always that easy to escape his chubby fingers. Everyone – her teachers and parents – said he only picked on her because he liked her. He pushed her and pulled her and tripped her up because he fancied her. To Mona, this had made no sense whatsoever. First, why would you do those things to somebody you liked? Second of all, what kind of excuse was that? She had to endure this unhappiness because of the reason behind his actions. Besides, even if he had asked her out, she didn’t think he was all that interesting or good-looking. She wasn’t interested. When she’d split open her eyebrow after he’d stuck his leg out last week, she hoped that’d be the end. Alas, Grubby Gilbert didn’t give up. She stepped to the side to watch him trot down the street. She walked right into a table whilst she gazed in the opposite direction. Mona squeaked, timid like a mouse, as time slowed around her.

The table toppled over. The mugs crashed to the floor and disintegrated, spilling hot tea over the rug. The flowery doily drifted to the ground, where the liquid stained it brown. The two women flinched backwards from the carnage and squealed. They escaped the flying China unscathed but lost their beverages to gravity.

Mona gasped, wide-eyed, hands raised in self-defence. Oh no. Oh no, no, no. This accident was not good, not good at all. She had no money, nothing with which she could make amends. She tried to think, speak, and act, but fear rooted her to the spot.

A woman with a teatowel draped over her shoulder came marching up to the scene. The woman was tall and had an ‘out there’ fashion sense. Her long hair, which she’d tied up into a bun, she’d dyed electric blue. Her eyebrows and her eyes were coffee-brown. Tattoos crawled up both arms, under the sleeves of her dress, and up the sides of her neck. The dress was black with a flowery design, both gothic and summery. A hoop dangled from her nose, and more piercings than Mona had ever seen dotted her ears. She took the teatowel and dropped it into the puddle, which disappeared. Before Mona could blink, the table was upright, its doily pristine, and the mug shards were gone. The blue-haired woman called to a younger girl who was busy behind the counter. ‘Sabrina, another ginger tea and a peppermint tea for this table, please. On the house, of course.’

Mona shrivelled before the sight of her. Adults always seemed big. Despite being no taller than the other grown-ups, this woman seemed like a giantess. Some unknown qualities made her presence more clear. She squeezed her hands together, averted her eyes, and awaited the tongue-lashing.

‘I’m Alice Wallaker, and this is my teahouse. Do you mind answering a few questions?’

Oh God, oh God, oh God. ‘I’m… sorry. I’m so so sorry. I-I didn’t mean to. I’m such an idiot, I’m such a stupid idiot, I—’

Alice silenced her with a wave of her hand. She smiled. ‘Never mind about that, Mona. Don’t cry over spilt milk. Unless if it’s for a black cat. What’s your name, sweetie?’

Something cold and jagged inside Mona began to melt. Calmness washed over her. She looked up into those warm brown eyes and didn’t see the hostility she expected to find. ‘I’m Mona. Mona Heptinstall.’

Alice’s eyes rolled over her every feature, settling on the stitches in her eyebrow. An odd look sparkled behind her kind eyes. ‘And what’s his name, Mona?’

Mona took a sharp inhale of breath. How did she know? Mona debated lying and telling Alice that there was no ‘him’. She was fine, and nothing was wrong. She soon abandoned this, then entertained the thought of giving the woman a fake name. But then that flittered away like a bat on the night’s breeze. In the end, Mona told the truth. ‘Gilbert Boyd.’

Alice wrinkled her nose as though she knew the boy already. She inhaled through her nose, then out through her mouth. She bent down, picked up her teatowel – now bone dry – and slung it over her shoulder again. ‘Come with me.’

Uh oh. Here it came. This point was the moment that Ms Wallaker would call the police, and they’d take her away. The cops would call her school, and the school would tell her parents. She’d be in so much trouble because she wanted to escape Grubby Gilbert.

Alice ushered her through the packed teahouse with a gentle hand on one shoulder. It seemed that every pair of eyes watched them go with hungry curiosity. And something else was in those gazes, too. Alice took her into the back of the teahouse, past the telephone.

Mona opened her mouth to ask but then closed it again.

Alice opened a door near the back of the building and led her down a beautiful wooden staircase. Despite their descent, the sunlight seemed to grow stronger. It shined through windows that should have been underground. She pushed open a grand pair of double doors and brought her into—

Mona frowned. ‘A library?’

Alice turned to face her. She stretched her hands out either side of her as if reaching for the walls. Behind her, shelves of books stretched on for an impossible distance. Here and there, bustled all kinds of women. They scanned shelves and pored over forgotten tomes. Some looked happy and healthy; others looked battered and bruised. Expressions ranged from interest to anger. A middle-aged woman with a black eye gritted her teeth and flicked through the pages of a thick book. Nearby, a granny chuckled into her stack of open books, mumbling about ‘teaching the bugger’. ‘Yes,’ said Alice. ‘A library. A special library. A secret library, containing hidden knowledge. For people like us.’

‘Like… us?’

Alice smiled. ‘Women.’

Now, Mona understood what had been in the eyes of all those women as Alice took her through the teahouse. Sympathy. Sympathy and understanding. They’d all been in similar positions before, too. They knew how it felt. And when they saw a little girl experiencing the same, they couldn’t help but send their hearts to her. Her mouth dried up. ‘Only for women.’

Alice nodded, then turned and beckoned her. ‘Come, we can find something to help your predicament. We have a little something for everyone, from ailments to revenge. But something gentler might be a good starting point for you.’

Mona paused. ‘You’re… going to help me? But I wrecked your teahouse! I—’

Alice surprised her by laughing. ‘Oh, Mona, you didn’t wreck anything! Besides, you were seeking shelter, weren’t you? Well, you found it.’

Mona found herself laughing, too. A few minutes prior, she’d never felt less like laughing. But being around this woman had eased her wounded heart. It was as though she were—

Magic.

She stopped dead in her tracks. ‘A-Are you— Are y-you—’

Alice turned, eyebrows raised, mischief written in the colour of her cheeks. She said nothing and waited for Mona to ask.

She blurted it out. ‘Are you a witch?’

Alice’s eyes danced. ‘Why, of course! All the best women are.’

She’d expected to feel terror, coldness, claustrophobia. This woman was into the dark arts; Alice practised magic and witchcraft. She ought to be frightening. And yet, she wasn’t. At least, not to Mona. But she thought Alice could be scary to the right – or wrong – kind of person. The sort of person like Gilbert Boyd. And the types of people Gilbert Boyd would grow up into if left unchecked. But to Mona, she felt as if an umbrella of love had opened over her head. Not only was the rain no longer falling on her, but the sun shone through the material. Mona followed the witch deeper into the library. ‘What kind of help, Ms Wallaker?’

Alice hummed and scanned the shelves, pointing at them as if eyeing a police lineup. At last, she said, ‘Aha!’ and produced a book from a shelf. It wasn’t quite ‘Baby’s First Seance’ or ‘Witchcraft For Dummies’, but close enough. A beginner’s book. An entry point into the dark arts.

Only, were these arts dark? Or had men labelled them as such? Mona took the book, feeling the weight of power crackling through her fingertips. She couldn’t help but utter a contented sigh.

Alice opened the book and slid a finger down the index page, tapping on certain words. ‘Like this, Mona. There’s some powerful stuff in here. Stuff that I wouldn’t share with a boy no matter how old he was. But you can handle that responsibility, can’t you, Mona?’

Mona decided that she could.

After Years Of Being Married To A Borderline Personality Harpy I’m Free, Happy And At Peace!

India is not bad, we Indians have made our beautiful country dirty.
I want to share a story here.

Once I was travelling to my workplace from my old house which is situated in a small town. I needed to cross a waterway which usually comes in my route. It was a sunny winter morning and most of the people were buying ‘Chai’ from a tea seller who was operating inside the vessel. I took my cell phone out of my pocket and started taking some photos of the beautiful Ganges and its foggy banks filled with greeneries.

After a while, I saw people throwing their empty paper cups into the river. I lost my temper when I saw most of them throwing plastic bottles, wrappers of biscuits, cakes, dry fruits, and whatnot!

I yelled at a person in Bengali, “Dada, khali bottle jol e felchen kano?” (Translation- “Brother, why are you throwing the plastic bottle into the water?”)

He replied, “Kano? Nodi ta apnar babar?” (Translation- “Is the river your father’s property?”)

I was shocked for a while as I didn’t know what to reply and how.

I kept quiet at that time and introspected a bit about the mentality of a common person in our country and how selfish it is to misuse anything available to them.

Yes! The people in our country have literally zero civic sense and it has nothing to do with how much educated they are.

You can go inside the house of anybody from our country. It doesn’t matter how many household appliances or furniture they have, you’ll find a common pattern. All of those houses are as clean and maintained as they can be. Well, the people of our country do their best to keep their homes clean whereas they don’t even think before throwing any garbage on the street. This much civic sense we as Indians have!

Yes! India is dirty. And, Indians are the reason.

Thanks for reading.

Sir Whiskerton and the Arrival of Professor Quackenstein: A Tale of Gadgets, Gags, and a Genius Duck

Ah, dear reader, prepare yourself for a tale of scientific shenanigans, quacky inventions, and one particularly exasperated cat who just wants to know why the barn is suddenly floating. Today’s story is one of absurdity, adventure, and the occasional existential crisis, all wrapped up in a whirlwind of malfunctioning gadgets and duck-induced chaos. So, grab your sense of humor and a pair of safety goggles (for the inevitable explosions), as we dive into Sir Whiskerton and the Arrival of Professor Quackenstein: A Tale of Gadgets, Gags, and a Genius Duck.

The Arrival of the Mad Scientist Duck

It all began on a quiet afternoon when a peculiar figure waddled onto the farm. He was a duck, but not just any duck—this one wore a lab coat, goggles, and a bow tie that somehow managed to look both sophisticated and ridiculous. Behind him trailed a wagon piled high with strange contraptions, each one beeping, whirring, or occasionally sparking.

“Greetings, farm animals!” the duck declared, spreading his wings dramatically. “I am Professor Quackenstein, the world’s greatest inventor! I have come to revolutionize your lives with my brilliant gadgets!”

The animals, who had been going about their usual routines, stopped to listen. “Revolutionize our lives?” Doris the Hen asked, tilting her head. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Professor Quackenstein said, puffing out his chest, “that I will solve all your problems with the power of science! No more early mornings, no more manual labor, no more… uh… whatever it is you do all day.”

Sir Whiskerton, who had been enjoying a particularly luxurious nap in a sunbeam, opened one eye. “This is either going to be brilliant or a complete disaster,” he muttered. “And I’m leaning heavily toward disaster.”

The First Invention: The Automatic Egg Collector

Professor Quackenstein’s first invention was the Automatic Egg Collector 3000, a contraption designed to gather eggs from the hens without any human—or animal—intervention. “Behold!” he said, flipping a switch. “The future of egg collection!”

The machine whirred to life, its mechanical arms flailing wildly. Doris the Hen watched in horror as the Egg Collector 3000 began chasing her around the coop, beeping loudly. “Help! It’s trying to steal my eggs!” she squawked.

“It’s just… calibrating!” Professor Quackenstein said, frantically pressing buttons. “Give it a minute!”

Before the machine could “calibrate” itself into a full-blown egg apocalypse, Sir Whiskerton stepped in and pulled the plug. “Perhaps,” he said, flicking his tail, “we should start with something a little less… aggressive.”

The Second Invention: The Self-Milking Machine

Undeterred, Professor Quackenstein unveiled his next invention: the Self-Milking Machine. “This beauty,” he said, “will milk Bessie the Tie-Dye Cow with gentle precision!”

Bessie, ever the optimist, agreed to give it a try. But as soon as the machine was activated, it began spraying milk in every direction, drenching everyone within a ten-foot radius.

“I feel like I’m at a very strange car wash,” Sir Whiskerton said, shaking milk from his fur.

“It’s… enthusiastic!” Professor Quackenstein said, dodging a stream of milk. “Just needs a little fine-tuning!”

The Third Invention: The Solar-Powered Scarecrow

Next up was the Solar-Powered Scarecrow, a device designed to scare away crows with the power of song. “This baby,” Professor Quackenstein said, “will keep the crows away with show tunes!”

The scarecrow began belting out a rendition of Yankee Doodle, but instead of scaring the crows, it attracted them. Soon, the field was filled with crows, all cawing along to the music.

“This is either the best or worst thing that’s ever happened to this farm,” Rufus the Dog said, wagging his tail.

The Final Straw: The Floating Barn

The final straw came when Professor Quackenstein unveiled his pièce de résistance: the Anti-Gravity Barn Lift. “With this,” he said, “you can lift the entire barn into the air, giving you a bird’s-eye view of the farm!”

Before anyone could stop him, he activated the device. The barn began to shake, then slowly rose into the air, hovering a few feet above the ground.

“This is amazing!” Professor Quackenstein said, clapping his wings. “Science at its finest!”

“This is a disaster!” Sir Whiskerton said, his tail twitching in annoyance. “How do we get it down?”

The Feline Intervention

Determined to restore order, Sir Whiskerton called an emergency meeting with Chef Remy LeRaccoon. “Clearly, Professor Quackenstein’s inventions are… less than effective,” he said, shooting a pointed look at the floating barn. “But fear not! I have a plan.”

With Remy’s help, Sir Whiskerton devised a solution: they would reverse the polarity of the Anti-Gravity Barn Lift, effectively grounding the barn. The only problem? They needed a power source stronger than the solar panels.

“What about the yodeling fish?” Remy suggested, adjusting his goggles. “Their hypnotic yodeling could provide the energy we need.”

Sir Whiskerton nodded. “It’s worth a shot.”

The yodeling fish, who lived in the farm’s pond, were more than happy to help. “YODEL-AY-HEE-HOO!” they sang, their synchronized yodeling creating a wave of energy that powered the device. The barn slowly descended, landing back on the ground with a soft thud.

The Moral of the Story

As the farm returned to its peaceful routine, the animals reflected on the day’s events.

The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: Even the smartest minds need a little help sometimes. Whether you’re a genius duck, a mad scientist raccoon, or just a cat trying to keep the barn on the ground, it’s important to recognize when you need assistance—and to accept it with grace.

A Happy Ending

With the barn safely grounded, the farm returned to its usual rhythm. Professor Quackenstein, ever the optimist, vowed to “refine his inventions” and maybe add a few safety features. Remy, inspired by the day’s events, began working on a new gadget: the Yodel-Powered Hay Baler.

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 the barn… well, the barn was firmly on the ground.

And so, dear reader, we leave our heroes with the promise of new adventures, new inventions, and hopefully, no more floating barns. Until next time, may your days be filled with laughter, ingenuity, and just a little bit of feline genius.

The End.

See Tình – Hoàng Thùy Linh「Cukak Remix」/ Audio Lyrics Video

Which country will follow the example of Portugal in rejecting the F-35 fighter jet because of the unreliable president Trump?

In fact, no country in Europe is currently capable of developing a fifth-generation aircraft.

Fifth-generation airplanes require a highly integrated chain, but European countries each have their own shortcomings.

There have been early rumors that Spain refused to participate in the U.S. F-35 fighter jet program, but not because of Trump, but because lawmakers were unable to convince the public to provide more funding, only for Trump’s entry into the White House to strengthen its case for refusal.

However, with the way the Americans deal with things, there is a good chance that they will retaliate against Spain and make things difficult for Spain on various pretexts, so Spain still needs to be careful.

Bibliothecha Magicae

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

“Alexa Claire Morrow! Aren’t you supposed to be reading?”A startled twelve-year-old Lexi nervously dropped her game controller to the floor and reached for the remote; hastily turning off the television. Busted. Lexi got up from the floor and sat on her bed. “Mom, I hate it when you use my full name. It makes me feel like I’m in trouble.”“You know you’re supposed to read a minimum of thirty minutes a day before you’re permitted to play video games. If you haven’t done so, which I suspect you haven’t, then you may just very well be in trouble.”“Ugh, I hate reading and sixth grade sucks.”Wendy Morrow understood her daughter’s protest, but hating to read was not acceptable, not in her world. “Maybe, my darling daughter, you aren’t reading the right books. Let me see what you chose from the library this week.”

 

Lexi reached for her backpack haphazardly thrown between her bed and the nightstand. Clearly, she hadn’t touched it or even gave it a thought since Friday afternoon. Reluctantly, Lexi freed her library book from its canvas confines and handed it to her mother. “We had to read non-fiction this week.” she explained.

 

“Rocks of the World”? What made you choose this book, Lex?”

 

“Our school librarian always puts book suggestions on the center table for us. I had to pee and was late getting there. This and some stupid book about stamps were the only two left. Rocks or stamps? Either way, I was out of luck, so I just chose the one to my right.”

 

“Well, that’s quite an informed process.”

 

“Ha,ha. Now, I have to read it, don’t I?”

 

“Yeah, you do. However, I may have a way to make this more interesting, and you get to use your laptop as well. Should I share my brilliant idea?”

 

“Brilliant?”

 

“Absolutely. Ready?”

 

Lexi hated to admit, her curiosity was getting the best of her, and Mom did have some really great ideas. As much as she dreaded reading about rocks, she knew it might be worth it to hear her mother out. “Ok, what have you come up with this time?”

 

“Well, rocks don’t have to be as boring as the general term connotes. Some rocks are actually gems and crystals with magical properties. They can bring about luck, love, good health, and even money. So, my idea is, read the book and look up the rocks that catch your attention to see if they are in fact, magical. Make a list instead of writing a traditional book report. I think it could be fun, don’t you?”

 

Lexi was intrigued, but like most twelve-year-olds, she was also very skeptical; exactly what Wendy was counting on. “Magic? Really, Mom?”

 

“It’s real, Lex. I have told you the story about the magic library, haven’t I?”

 

Lexi giggled, “No. I think I’d remember such a fairy tale.”

 

“Would you like to hear it, now?”

 

“Sure. It’s not like I can go back to playing video games, right?”

 

“Right.”

 

“Before you get started, can we have snacks? Can I count story time as my thirty minutes of reading tonight?”

 

Wendy marveled over her daughter’s negotiation attempt. She may very well become an attorney like her grandmother. She smiled and thought to herself, “there are worse things!” “Yes, to snacks, and that’s a big hell no, to counting it as your reading time. Nice try though.”

 

“Fine-uhhh. I’ll go make popcorn and meet you in the living room.” Lexi stomped out of her room and down the stairs into the kitchen. Wendy ducked into her bedroom and kneeled beside her bed. She pulled a tattered dress box toward her, lifted the lid and plucked a thick hardcover book from the myriads of saved memories and treasures. She held it to her chest, close to her heart; this book, this insanely famous story about a magical boy changed her world and it was time to share that magic with Lexi.

 

“Ready?” Lexi asked from the couch. “I made caramel corn with M&M’s.”

 

“I am.” Wendy settled in next to her daughter and handed the well-worn, dust covered book to Lexi. “This book and a very kind, entirely cool woman named Elsbeth saved my life.”

 

“I’m assuming this all happened before Gran and Gramps adopted you.”

 

“Yes, I was younger than you when I became homeless and had to fend for myself.”

 

“I know, Mom. You and Dad were both living on the streets when you met, right?”

 

“Yes, Lexi, but I met Elsbeth even before I knew your father. I was eleven and winter was well on its way. The biting cold came early that year and by late October kids like me were struggling to find warmth, shelter, food and a small act of kindness from another was a rare occurrence. I envied the kids who were proficient in pickpocketing and panhandling. I tried both and nearly got caught many times. I had much better luck just being honest and learning to read people; determining who would help and who would call the authorities. That winter I managed to wander far from the park where I was used to sleeping at night. I was lost and so afraid when I saw this odd little bookstore that seemed to call to me, welcoming as if it had been waiting for me to get lost so it could find me. I walked in expecting to be thrown out; I was used to that. No one wanted a dirty street kid devaluing perfectly good real estate in their place of businesses.”

 

“I thought you said library, not bookstore.”

 

“I did, now if you don’t mind, I’d like to continue.”

 

Lexi laughed. “Go for it.”

 

“Elsbeth stood behind the counter pretending she hadn’t noticed me come in. She was so striking with her dark brown hair, long and wavy with thick chunks of bleach blonde framing her face. Her eyeglass frames were bright red and matched her lipstick perfectly. She wore a purple velvet jacket and jeans. I remember being so envious of her style. Elsbeth had a kind smile and such an easy way about her. She let me wander, perusing every book title while I kept warm.”

 

“Where is she now?” Lexi inquired.

 

“I have no idea, but I truly wish I did. Anyway, that first day I left before she closed the store. We exchanged not a word, but I somehow knew I was invited to return. It was brutally cold that night and I could not wait for that little bookstore to reopen. I spent the morning sitting quietly in the far corner, completely concealed by shelving and stacks of books too unpopular to be displayed front and center. Around noon, Elsbeth approached and handed me half of her sandwich a small bag of chips and a bottle of water. “Lunch is served.” she said with the kindness of an Angel. I ate and she returned to her post behind the counter. Soon after, I heard a man’s voice; abrasive and threatening. He was going on about banned books and said he’d be back to restore holy justice to the shop he referred to as a vessel for hedonism and heretical lore.”

 

“What’s hedonism?”

 

“Um, self-indulgence; like when people value what makes them happy over what is considered right.”

 

“So, this guy was basically mean and boring?”

 

“I suppose. Anyway, he did return right before closing time and began again to berate poor Elsbeth. He was loud and menacing; scared me to death. I tried to find a place to hide and accidentally opened a door in the back of the store and stumbled into a hidden room. I panicked and shut the door behind me. I could barely see but I was too afraid to move and search for a light switch, so I stood there frozen in fear for what seemed like hours, but realistically, it was maybe fifteen minutes while that man continued to shout.”

 

“Holy crap!” Lexi exclaimed, now completely invested in her mother’s story. She stuffed yet another handful of popcorn into her mouth and motioned for Wendy to continue.

 

“Eventually Elsbeth found me in the secret room, and when she turned on the lights, I realized it was filled with books”

 

“So, you stumbled into a stockroom? Hardly a feat of magic, Mom.”

 

“It was certainly not a stockroom; it was an actual library of her very own making. You see; that horrible man was Pastor Albright from an odd little church serving some manufactured denomination no one had ever heard of around the corner from the bookstore. He believed there was true evil in most of the books that had ever been written and made it his mission to ban them from being sold in “his” neighborhood. What would have really pleased him was to be able to run Elsbeth off for good, closing the store and eliminating what he claimed was yet another den of the Devil. His rant could only be described as a lunatics skewed definition of a gospel having nothing to do with a true and pure belief in a higher power. She stood her ground as best as she could, pulling certain books from her shelves and concealing them in that room. Some of her customers and so many kids like me would come each day and ask to “borrow” those books.”

 

“For free? And they actually returned them?”

 

“Not all were honorable, but Elsbeth didn’t mind. She only wanted people to enjoy good literature and help children learn and love to read. Loaning the books kept her from Albright’s accusations of profiting from soul corruption in epic proportion, quite a dramatic description for a meager neighborhood bookstore. The pastor was obviously depraved in his sermon. Albright was the antithesis of imagination and childlike wonder. Elsbeth knew kids, especially kids like me, were exposed to enough evil to cause us constant worry. She was determined to disallow Albright the opportunity to take any more joy from our lives. So, when some of her books failed to be returned, Elsbeth took faith in the fact that they were out in the world, being read and enjoyed as they were intended.

 

Most of her secret books had elements of magic peppered throughout the plots and storylines. Some told tales of monsters and mayhem while others were written about ordinary people who simply loved to dream. That night, Elsbeth handed me this book, and invited me to sleep in the library.” Wendy gestured toward her most coveted possession, the book from Elsbeth, now resting comfortably on the coffee table. “This book reminds me of you.” She said, “The main character is so special, and no one seems to realize it until an absolute miracle happens. He is whisked away to an enchanted castle where everyone believes in him, wants to help, teach and care for him; a life he could only dream of becomes his reality. This is going to happen for you someday. Keep this book with you always as a reminder of hope. It is my gift to you.” Elsbeth handed me a blanket from the tiny closet and gestured to an overstuffed chair near the door. “It’s going to dip down below freezing tonight. It isn’t much, but it’s safe and warm.”

 

“You stayed, Mom?”

 

“I did. I stayed that night, and many thereafter. Not only did I read the book Elsbeth gave me, but at least a hundred more.”

 

“Hey, so that kind of did happen for you. I mean, you eventually got adopted by an awesome family who loves you more than anything and you never had to worry about how you were going to survive again.”

 

“Yes, Lexi. I often wonder how Elsbeth could have ever predicted my good fortune.”

 

“Magic.”

 

“I suppose.”

 

“Did you spend your days there too?”

 

“Sometimes. However, as long as I was in by the time Elsbeth closed at six, I could come and go as I pleased. She never questioned my whereabouts.”

 

“Did she ever lock you out for being late?”

 

“No. I was always back before closing. I do suspect though, if I were late, Elsbeth would have waited a bit to ensure my safe return.”

 

“Is the bookstore still there?”

 

“No, my love. For nearly four months I made that secret library my home. I took great pride in having a place to stay, cleaning and organizing for Elsbeth. I would often recommend books I had already read to Elsbeth’s special library patrons; making me feel like I was an important part of something great. I could literally feel the spirits of the characters and authors gracing me with their wisdom and adventures as I sought sanctuary in Elsbeth’s private library that winter. I read about everything from witches and fairies to teachers and troublemakers. I made them all my friends, my family. Their wondrous lives gave my empty life renewed purpose. Every story spoke to me; telling me that life could be filled with beauty and love, and of course magic; even my life, someday. That makeshift library was my very first classroom, generously lending to me more knowledge than it or I could ever imagine.”

 

“Do you think the magical library is the reason you became a writer, Mom?”

 

“I do. Every time I write, I can feel its pulse deep in my memory; like a beating heart enchanting my words, guiding them to become a worthy piece for my own beloved readers.”

 

“That’s kind of cool.”

 

“Ha, thank you.”

 

“So, what happened to that mean pastor.?”

 

“He eventually cracked; burned down the bookstore and was sent to prison.”

 

“Are you serious?”

 

“I am. It was early one morning; I believe it was the summer after my time in the library. He broke in the back door and found Elsbeth’s stash of books he disapproved of. The news reported that he returned later with some type of accelerant and intentionally set it in flames, claiming to have been called to cleanse the place by fire. The reporters were certain no one perished, but like I said, I have no idea what happened to my dear Elsbeth.”

 

“Mom, can we go to our public library tomorrow?” Lexi mused over the notion of discovering some magic of her own.

 

“I’d love that.” Wendy’s heart swelled. She never expected Lexi to be just like her, nor did she want to discourage the child from pursuing her own dreams. But, oh, wouldn’t it be amazing for mother and daughter to share a love of books?”

 

The next morning after breakfast, Wendy and Lexi drove the five miles from their house to the Burlington County Public Library. It was an old brick building surrounded by mature oaks and newly planted petunias in raised wooden flower boxes. A small fountain featuring an Angel made of stone, holding an open book stood in the center of the perfectly manicured front lawn like a beacon of hope for the future.

 

They parked on the side street and leisurely walked along the cobblestone path, under the majestic oaks and past the parabolic reading Angel to the front steps leading inside. Lexi noticed a few children gathered near the side alley. They sat together under the awning, reading and chatting among themselves.

 

“Why haven’t we ever been here?” Wendy asked, not expecting an actual answer from her distracted daughter.

 

Lexi took her mother’s hand, “It was never the right time, I guess. Today just feels like a good day to make time, don’t you agree?”

 

“I do.”

 

Mother and daughter entered, hand in hand and approached the large circular desk in the middle of the first floor, just under the spiral staircase. The librarian behind the desk looked away from her computer screen and turned to greet them. “Welcome” she began with a kind and familiar voice. “My name is Elsbeth, is there anything specific you’re hoping to discover in the library today?”

What are some mind-blowing facts about food?

• Potatoes can absorb and reflect Wi-Fi signals

• Apples have small traces of cyanide in their seeds!!!

• Cookies will give you cavities faster than candy.

• Scientists can turn peanut butter into diamonds.

• When you eat figs, technically, you are also eating wasps.

• Pringles has already had a lawsuit trying to prove that they are not actually potato chips.

• Brussels sprouts, broccoli, cabbage, cauliflower, and kohlrabi are all from the same plant!

• The bananas we eat today are clones.

• Potatoes are actually 80% water and 20% solid.

• Mangoes can get sunburned.

• Eating lollipops is just swallowing flavored saliva.

• White chocolate is not actually chocolate.

• Raw oysters are still alive when you eat them.

Grapes will explode if you put them in the microwave.

WTF Pictures

Some of you all are gonna love these…

How does modern China’s government maintain authority without using fear?

It’s simple. The Chinese government (emperor) knew this wouldn’t work hundreds of years ago.

Using fear to threaten the Chinese people will only lead to people’s rebellion until the government (emperor) is overthrown.

In addition, the overthrown head of government (emperor) is usually killed.

Is the Indian AF order Su-57 to face J-20?

The Indians never ordered Su-57. Their main concern now is probably not Chinese J-20s (which aren’t for sale) but the announced sale of J-35s to Pakistan. Pakistan has caused India a lot more trouble than China as of late.

Su-57 is almost certainly a dead-end project as of now. It’s showy at demonstrations and has an awesome paintjob, but that’s about all the good news.

There are four major points that strongly indicate that the Su-57 is in fact not a true 5th gen aircraft.

1. The Indians were partners on the original T-50/PAK-FA project. They have previously bought a lot of Russian hardware including their mainstay Su-30 MKI heavy fighter. They invested a lot of time and money in this new project, had a very close look at the hardware, then pulled out citing that it would not meet their requirements. This is especially notable as the Indians have no viable alternatives for a 5th gen platform. Thus it is almost certain that whatever they saw had such serious problems that they deemed it was not something that could be worked through or recovered.
2. The Su-57 has never demonstrated internal air-to-air missile carriage or launch. The sole evidence of it launching weapons are either videos of cruise missile launches (which almost anything can do, as they are pre-programmed) or one where the camera angle hides the launch bays and the missile was already extended (i.e. as if it was on a pylon, not in the bay). Considering that the aircraft was from the start meant for export, this is highly suspicious, as demonstrating this capability would be great marketing material. This meshes with reports that the Russians have had serious issues developing new missiles with lock-on after launch (LOAL) capability, without which internal bay launch is impossible. Note that the US F-22, F-35, and Chinese J-20 have all been seen publicly demonstrating this capability, and two of those are not even for sale.
3. Su-57 production models have yet to make an appearance even at major publicity events like the recent Zhuhai Airshow. Instead, they’re still flying prototypes for the demonstrations. Again, one must wonder why this is the case, as showing a real production unit would be great marketing material. Once again, F-22, F-35, and J-20 have all been seen flying at airshows with production models.
4. Regardless of some Russian reports of occasional usage, the Su-57 has been basically absent from the Ukraine conflict. This strongly indicates that its stealth is not as good as hoped for, or at least that the Russians have no confidence in the jet’s stealth capability. Even if (as noted in #2) the Su-57 has no ability to use air-to-air missiles from its internal bays, it should have the ability to drop regular bombs. Taken together, if it was a true stealth aircraft there is no reason it could not be used like the old F-117 was used against Iraq in the Gulf War. In fact, it should be considerably more capable than the Nighthawk ever was, with supersonic speed, a cannon, and demonstrated supermaneuverability. Why, then, has it not been employed in this fashion? Given how devastating strikes against C&C facilities have proven to be, it is practically guaranteed that if the Su-57 was a true stealth jet, we would have seen it used for that by now.

As for what the Indians are looking at instead, they do have a plan to develop their own 5th gen fighter. This is the AMCA project, though it is still at the drawing board stage.

There have also been recent reports that they have been offered the F-35. However, it remains to be seen whether this is more than just talk.

Lone Star Bacon and Cheddar Fries

Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

• 1 pound (3/8 inch) regular cut fries with skin on
• 2 ounce shredded Cheddar cheese
• 2 strips cooked diced bacon
• 3 ounces sour cream
• Finely chopped green onions, for garnish
• Jalapeño peppers, for garnish

Instructions

1. Deep-fry regular cut fries (350 to 360 degrees F) for 3 to 3 1/2 minutes or until golden brown and crisp.
2. In fry serving basket, arrange hot fries.
3. Top with cheese and bacon.
4. Garnish with sour cream and green onions.
5. If desired, garnish with jalapeños.
6. Serve immediately.

How do old age people living alone with no support from family or relatives manage financially?

I am 75. Very little savings! I am very resourceful. I live in a low income senior apartment that I would consider 5 star.

I have children who are prosperous in their own rights. I do not ask anything from them. I have food stamps, so I will not starve. My car is 15 years old. The only time I asked my son for help when I needed to buy 4 tires for my car. I paid him $50 a month. I have a part time job working 9 hours a week and make about $600 a month. I save that and travel once a year. I look for the cheapest TV, Wi-Fi , telephone and other must have utilities. I buy my clothes( not often)

From thrift shops. The only thing my kids buy me as presents are the current gadgets that I could not afford! I pads, air pods, iPhone 15, Henkle knives, 50 inch TV, cuisinart pots and so forth.

So it’s doable !

What are your thoughts on the unannounced presence of the Chinese Navy near Australian territorial waters?

About damn time. Because ‘good for the goose is good for the gander’. Or ‘turnabout is fair play’.

Looking beyond the common ‘fair is fair’ morality (a foreign concept to America or its supporters) How about the fact that most of the cargo ships traversing those international waters carry cargo Chinese is responsible for. You know it, Aussies? All the China-bound ore carriers and cargo ships that put more food on Australians tables than the next 4 trade partners combined? The container or vehicle transport ships jam-packed with goods at a price-point Australians queue up for? Price-point making the cash the Chinese hand the Aussies in exchange for coal and rusty dirt? Coal and rusty dirt special only due to it being somewhat closer than the multiple eager alternative ‘coal and rusty dirt wholesalers’? Coal and rusty dirt nobody else has use for at 10% of China’s historically unique scale? A scale that no other people can thus will so gladly dependably pay for? What sort of utter cretin would challenge China’s responsible right to remind the ‘piracy-inclined’ the consequences of messing with those China is moved to protect. (The piracy-inclined? C’mon, you know them – the guys talking loudly to themselves about stealing two utterly peaceable neighbours’ sovereignty and stuff? Bandits. Thugs. Pirates. Same thing.)

If the Aussies are so stupid and immoral as not to back away from the self-outed US menace — how pathetic. Pathetic because when you know someone has overt murderous rapine intention and abet them? You become the only lifeform morally as low as that monster. Is Aus really a shrugging ‘Mini-me’ to America’s ‘Dr. Evil’? Sad.

I digress. Back to our matter under discussion.

The Americans deem themself outside the law. That’s an incontestable fact. The US refuses to acknowledge The Law of the Sea as binding for them. Everyone else. Not them. That’s the moral bankruptcy of the bandit. If at sea, of the pirate. Australia has insufficient navy to cope with small penny-ante pirates – much less one with 11 terror of the sea pirate fleets. Now that the American nation are openly brainstorming a rampage of murderous thievery against peaceable allies? China showing they’ve ability and willingness to protect people and property transiting the seas ought to come a relief to Australia – a nation on zombie America’s cannibal “eat our pals” menu.

Afterthought. Just a suggestion here. You might want to rethink the order the US pressured you into? Those attack subs? You think they’ll still work if the attacker is the US? Too bad you’ve taken possession of those F-35 attack planes. You might want to check all their systems for ‘kill-switches’ and the like. Here’s an idea. See what China might swap for half of them. Some military tech that might deter the stars’n’cross-bones pirates.

INSANE! Students CANNOT Answer BASIC Questions!