As a boy, I hated to get my hair cut. There was this barber in our town, and he would get this panel that he would put on top of the barber chair (it has a black cushion on it) and he would sit me down, put a cotton or plastic apron around my neck and cut my hair.
Into a crew cut.
But, this was the late 1950’s and early 1960’s and the Beatles were super popular. And their hair was so long. I wanted to be like them…
Well… over time, I stopped going to barbers. They became displaced as men’s hair fashion become long and unruly.
But, you know, back when I hit my 30’s I started going back to them. And I found it a fine, safe and nice “manly refuge” from the “normal” world out there.
Men would talk about guy stuff. Football, cars, fishing and politics.
My wife would tag along from time to time, but she would always get upset for one reason or the other, and order me never to return.
After the third or fourth barber shop that was blacklisted, I stopped taking her.
And it made my life so much nicer and tranquil.
Today, I offer a glimpse into a world that has largely disappeared from American society.
Enjoy…
What things were discovered by accident?
This lady’s death saved literally billions of people from becoming crippled, limbless, and dead.
In 1951, Henrietta Lacks, a poor African-American farmworker and mother of five, visited Johns Hopkins Hospital, one of the few places in Maryland willing to treat African-American patients. Henrietta Lacks complained to doctors about random bleeding and pain in her groin and how she was worried that it would affect her work.
Upon examination by gynecologist Dr. Howard Jones, doctors found a huge malignant tumor on her cervix, so Henrietta began radium treatments for her cervical cancer (which was then the best medical treatment available for this terrible disease).
Along with the treatment, a sample of her cancer cells was sent to the nearby tissue lab of Dr. George Gey. For years, Dr. Gey, a cancer and virus researcher, had collected cells from patients who came to Johns Hopkins Hospital with cervical cancer, but every sample he took died rapidly in Dr. Gey’s lab—all except Henrietta Lacks’s. Henrietta Lacks’s cells didn’t die; in fact, they replicated every 24 hours.
This was an amazing medical discovery, for decades whenever someone tried to experiment on human cells to find a cure for a disease, they simply died within hours, but with Henrietta Lacks’ cells, they survived and could grow again and again, meaning that there were now an almost infinite supply of these perfect cells alive if used correctly.
The first thing these cells were tested on was polio, and instead of dying immediately like most cells, they survived. This allowed scientists to experiment with Henrietta’s cells until they found a vaccine for one of the biggest killers of children in the early 20th century: polio.
Curing polio was just the beginning of Henrietta Lacks’ cells’ career: by the end of the century her cells were used to create the
, vaccines against
(which also saved millions of lives), improvements in hygiene, and a better understanding of cells in general. Today, scientists have grown up to 50 million metric tons of her cells and they are being used to find cures/vaccines for things like Ebola, cancer, and typhoid.
Henrietta Lacks sadly never discovered her contribution to science as she died only a couple of weeks after her treatment; her cells were also taken without her knowledge and her family only found out about what she did for medicine and science 20 years later.
Writer: Alex Foster.
No Loyalty Left: Starmer Alienated Men, Now They Won’t Fight!
How/why is Canada so confident that they could stop a US invasion? Honestly, it might go smoother than when Russia took Crimea. No shots fired, military welcomed as liberators.
Thomas Jefferson to William Duane, 4 August 1812
To William Duane
Monticello Aug. 4. 12
Dear Sir
Your favor of the 17th ult came duly to hand; and I have to thank you for the military Manuals you were so kind as to send me. this is the sort of book most needed in our country, where even the elements of tactics are unknown. the young have never seen service; & the old are past it: and of those among them who are not superannuated themselves, their science is become so. I see, as you do, the difficulties & defects we have to encounter in war, and should expect disasters, if we had an enemy on land capable of inflicting them. but the weakness of our enemy there will make our first errors innocent, & the seeds of genius which nature sows with even hand through every age & country, & which need only soil & season to germinate, will develope themselves among our military men. some of them will become prominent, and, seconded by the native energy of our citizens, will soon, I hope, to our force, add the benefits of skill.the acquisition of Canada this year, as far as the neighborhood of Quebec, will be a mere matter of marching; & will give us experience for the attack of Halifax the next, & the final expulsion of England from the American continent. Halifax once taken, every cockboat of hers must return to England for repairs. their fleet will annihilate our public force on the water, but our privateers will eat out the vitals of their commerce. perhaps they may burn New York or Boston. if they do, we must burn the city of London, not by expensive fleets or Congreve rockets, but by employing an hundred or two Jack the painters, whom nakedness famine, desperation & hardened vice will abundantly furnish from among themselves.—we have a rumour now afloat that the orders of council are repealed. the thing is impossible after Castlereagh’s late declaration in parliament, and the reconstruction of a Percival ministry. I consider this last circumstance fortunate for us. the repeal of the orders of council would only add recruits to our minority, and enable them the more to embarras our march to thoro’ redress of our past wrongs, and permanent security for the future. this we shall attain if no internal obstacles are raised up. the exclusion of their commerce from the US. and the closing of the Baltic against it which the present campaign in Europe will effect, will accomplish the catastrophe already so far advanced on them. I think your anticipations of the effects of this are entirely probable. their arts, their science, and what they have left of virtue, will come over to us. and altho’ their vices will come also, these I think will soon be diluted & evaporated in a country of plain honesty. experience will soon teach the new-comers how much more plentiful & pleasant is the subsistence gained by wholsome labour & fair dealing, than a precarious & hazardous1 dependance on the enterprises of vice & violence. still I agree with you that these immigrations will give strength to English partialities, to eradicate which is one of the most consoling expectations from the war. but probably the old hive will be broken up by a revolution, and a regeneration of it’s principles render intercourse with it no longer contaminating. a republic there like ours, & a reduction of their naval power within the limits of their annual faculties of paiment, might render their existence even interesting to us. it is the construction of their government, and it’s principles and means of corruption which make it’s continuance inconsistent with the safety of other nations. a change in it’s form might make it an honest one, and justify a confidence in it’s faith and friendship. that regeneration however will take a longer time than I have to live. I shall leave it to be enjoyed among you, & make my exit with a bow to it, as the most flagitious of the governments I leave among men. I sincerely wish you may live to see the prodigy of it’s renovation, enjoying in the mean time health & prosperity.
Th: Jefferson
This article, ironically from the U.S. National Park Service (see it before it’s taken down for DEI content) breaks down how wrong Jefferson was. In a nutshell, Canada is big, it has terrible terrain, and its weather is unforgiving. Jefferson also overestimated the American army and underestimated British regulars, Canadian militia and particularly the Canadian and American and native warriors, things went very bad indeed.
So after the declaration of war, they sent General Hull and his armies to Detroit to invade Upper Canada. Hull was kind enough to let everyone know he was coming
By WILLIAM HULL, Brigadier General and commander of the North Western Army of the United States.
A PROCLAMATION.
INHABITANTS of CANADA! After thirty years of PEACE & prosperity, the UNITED STATES have been driven to Arms. The injuries & aggressions, the insults & indignities of Great Britain have once more left them no alternative but manly resistance or unconditional submission.
The ARMY under my command, has invaded your country, & the Standard of the UNION now waves over the Territory of CANADA. To the peaceable unoffending inhabitant, it brings neither danger nor difficulty. I come to find enemies, not to make them. I come to protect, not to injure you.
Separated by an immense Ocean, & an extensive Wilderness from Treat Britain, you have no participation in her Counsels, no interest in her conduct. You have felt her Tyrany, you have seen her injustice, but I do not ask you to avenge the one or to redress the other. The UNITED STATES are sufficiently powerful to afford you every security, consistent with their rights, & your expectations. I tender you the invaluable blessings of Civil Political & Religious Liberty & their necessary result individual and general prosperity; That Liberty which gave decision to our counsels and energy to our conduct, in our struggle for INDEPENDENCE, and which conducted as safely and triumphantly, thro’ the stormy period of the Revolution. That Liberty which has raised us to an elevated rank among the Nations of the world, and which has afforded us a greater measure of PEACE and security, of wealth and improvement than ever fell to the lot of any people.
In the name of my Country and by the authority of my Government, I promise you protection to your persons, property and rights. Remain at your homes. Pursue your peaceful and customary avocations. Raise not you hands against your brethren. Many of your fathers fought for the freedom & INDEPENDENCE we now enjoy. Being children therefore of the same family with us, and heirs to the same heritage, the arrival of an Army of friends, must be hailed by you with a cordial welcome. You will be emancipated from Tyrany and oppression and restored to the dignified station of freemen. Had I any doubt of eventual success, I might ask you assistance, but I do not. I come prepared for every contingency. I have a force which will look down all opposition, & that force is but the vanguard of a much greater. If contrary to your own interest, and the just expectation of my Country, you should take part in the approaching contest, you will be considered & treated as enemies, & the horrors & calamities of war will stalk before you.
If the barbarous & savage policy of Great Britain be pursued, and the savages are let loose to murder our citizens, & butcher our women and children, the war, will be a war of extermination.
The first stroke of the Tomahawk, the first attempt with the scalping knife, will be the signal for one indiscriminate scene of desolation. No white man found fighting by the side of an Indian, will be taken prisoner. Instant destruction will be his lot. If the dictates of reason, duty, justice and humanity cannot prevent the employment of a force which respects no rights, & knows no wrong, it will be prevented by a severe and relentless system of retaliation.
I doubt not your courage and firmness: I will not doubt your attachment to Liberty. If you tender your services voluntarily, they will be accepted readily.
The UNITED STATES offer you peace, liberty and security. Your choice lies between these & WAR, slavery, and destruction. Choose then, but choose wisely; and may he who knows the justice of our cause; and who holds in his hand the fate of NATIONS, guide you to a result the most compatible with your rights and interest, you PEACE and prosperity.
BY THE GENERAL Capt. 13th. U.S. Regt: of Infantry and Aid de camp.
Surprisingly, Mr. Hull was not greeted warmly and a small force of British, Canadian and native troops went to meet him. Unfortunately, their commander had intercepted one of Hull’s letters saying how afraid he was to be massacred by Indians, so the British general, Isaac Brock, sent out his own proclamation.
The unprovoked declaration of War, by the United States of America, against the United Kingdom, of Great Britain and Ireland, and its dependencies, has been followed by the actual invasion of this Province in a remote Frontier of the Western District by a detachment of the Armed Force of the United States. The Officer commanding that detachment has thought proper to invite his Majesty’s Subjects not merely to a quiet and unresisting submission, but insults them with a call to seek voluntarily the protection of his Government. Without condescending to repeat the illiberal epithets bestowed in this appeal of the American Commander to the people of Upper Canada on the Administration of his Majesty, every Inhabitant of the Province is desired to seek the confutation of such indecent slander in the review of his own particular circumstances: Where is the Canadian Subject who can truly affirm to himself that he has been injured by the Government in his person, his liberty, or his property? Where is to be found in any part of the world, a growth so rapid in wealth and prosperity as this Colony exhibits,—Settled not 30 years by a band of Veterans exiled from their former possessions on account of their loyalty, not a descendant of these brave people is to be found, who under the fostering liberality of their Sovereign, has not acquired a property and means of enjoyment superior to what were possessed by their ancestors. This unequalled prosperity could not have been attained by the utmost liberality of the Government or the persevering industry of the people, had not the maritime power of the Mother Country secured to its Colonists a safe access to every market where the produce of their labor was in demand.
The unavoidable and immediate consequence of a seperation from Great Britain, must be the loss of this inestimable advantage, and what is offered you in exchange? to become a territory of the United States and share with them that exclusion from the Ocean, which the policy of their present Government enforces.—you are not even flattered with a participation of their boasted independence, and it is but too obvious that once exchanged from the powerful protection of the United Kingdom you must be reannexed to the dominion of France, from which the Provinces of Canada were wrested by the Arms of Great Britain, at a vast expense of blood and treasure, from no other motive than to relieve her ungrateful children from the oppression of a cruel neighbor: this restitution of Canada to the Empire of France was the stipulated reward for the aid afforded to the revolted Colonies, now the United States; the debt is still due, and there can be no doubt but the pledge has been renewed as a consideration for Commercial advantages, or rather for an expected relaxation in the Tyranny of France over the Commercial World.—Are you prepared Inhabitants of Upper Canada to become willing Subjects or rather Slaves, to the Despot who rules the Nations of Europe with a rod of Iron? If not, arise in a Body, exert your energies, co-operate cordially with the King’s regular Forces to repel the invader, and do not give cause to your children when groaning under the oppression of a foreign Master to reproach you with having too easily parted with the richest Inheritance on Earth.—a participation in the name, character and freedom of Britons.
The same spirit of Justice, which will make every reasonable allowance for the unsuccessful efforts of Zeal and Loyalty, will not fail to punish the defalcation of principle: every Canadian Freeholder is by deliberate choice, bound by the most solemn Oaths to defend the Monarchy as well as his own property; to shrink from that engagement is a Treason not to be forgiven; let no Man suppose that if in this unexpected struggle his Majesties Arms should be compelled to yield to an overwhelming force, that the Province will be eventually abandoned; the endeared relation of its first settlers, the intrinsic value of its Commerce and the pretensions of its powerful rival to repossess the Canadas are pledges that no peace will be established between the United States and Great Britain and Ireland, of which the restoration of these Provinces does not make the most prominent condition.
Be not dismayed at the unjustifiable threat of the Commander of the Enemies forces, to refuse quarter if an Indian appear in the Ranks.—The brave bands of Natives which inhabit this Colony, were, like his Majesty’s Subjects, punished for their zeal and fidelity by the loss of their possessions in the late Colonies, and rewarded by his Majesty with lands of superior value in this Province: the Faith of the British Government has never yet been violated, they feel that the soil they inherit is to them and their posterity protected from the base Arts so frequently devised to overreach their simplicity. By what new principle are they to be prevented from defending their property? If their Warfare from being different from that of the white people is more terrific to the Enemy, let him retrace his steps—they seek him not—and cannot expect to find women and children in an invading Army; but they are men, and have equal rights with all other men to defend themselves and their property when invaded, more especially when they find in the enemies Camp a ferocious and mortal foe using the same Warfare which the American Commander affects to reprobate.
This inconsistent and unjustifiable threat of refusing quarter for such a cause as being found in Arms with a brother-sufferer in defence of invaded rights, must be exercised with the certain assurance of retaliation, not only in the limited operations of War in this part of the King’s Dominions but in every quarter of the globe, for the National character of Britain is not less distinguished for humanity than strict retributive justice, which will consider the execution of this inhuman threat as deliberate Murder, for which every subject of the offending power must make expiation.
Isaac Brock. Maj. Gen. and President.
God Save the King.Head Quarters Fort George, 22nd July http://1812.By order of His Honor the President,J. B. Glegg, Capt. A.D.C.
And later, he sent an ultimatum to Hull
“It is far from my inclination to join a war of extermination, but you must be aware that the numerous body of Indians who have attached themselves to my troops will be beyond my control the moment the contest commences.”
Hull surrendered without a shot. By the end of 1812, the British were in control of Detroit and Northern Michigan, and had repulsed an attack on Niagara Falls and Montreal.
The Americans had better luck in 1813, but by the end of the year despite entering at Detroit and what’s now Niagara-on-the-Lake, by winter they were back regrouping in Detroit, Buffalo and Plattsburgh.
And by 1814, Canada’s British allies had arrived after finishing off Napoleon. That’s when this happened.
That convinced the Americans to sue for peace.
Now, the problem with you Americans is that you really haven’t faced an enemy on your borders since you attacked Mexico in the 1840s. Instead, you attack enemies with overwhelming force who can’t fight back.
So learn some geography
You’re already in range.
Cajun Fried Chicken
Ingredients
- 4 boneless skinless chicken breast halves
- 1 1/2 cups cornflakes cereal
- 1/2 cup biscuit baking mix
- 2 teaspoons Cajun seasoning
- 1 cup water
- 3 tablespoons butter
Instructions
- Flatten each chicken breast half to 1/4-inch thickness between sheets of plastic wrap.
- Crush cereal and mix it with the biscuit mix and Cajun seasoning.
- Dip chicken into water, then coat with the dry mixture.
- Melt butter in a large nonstick skillet over medium heat.
- Cook chicken in butter for 10 to 15 minutes on each side until juice is no longer pink when centers of thickest pieces are cut.
BREAKING! Russia Just Moved Nuclear Weapons to Venezuela!
Why has no high-level U.S. official met with their Chinese counterparts since President Trump began his second term in January?
In my opinion, US politicians are psychopath who suffer China-phobia (& Russo-phobia).
Every word that comes out their mouth is anti-China. Many are downright lies. Biden’s team was more rhetoric to hide the lie. Trump’s team is outright hawkish liars.
US politicians dont treat others (not just to China) as equal. They dont talk negotiation or cooperation. They only give orders with threats, forcing others to take US order & do it the US ways.
One of the most soft spoken US politician, former Treasury Secy Yellen once was in China asking China to buy US debts. I still remember her words:
US will not stop you China to develop, as long as your development does not threaten US security.
Translation: US wants to keep its hegemony & dominance in the world. It means you China cannot be so smart to develop things that surpasses us USA that breaks US dominance.
The world is big enough for countries to compete & coexist.
But the “America First” & the “Make America Great Again” is a zero-sum for USA. USA does not share with the world.
One US politician (?) said: competition is for losers. USA wants monopoly.
Really, who likes to meet with US politicians who are so so so selfish?
The Time Capsule Storm
Submitted into Contest #288 in response to: Write a story where the weather mirrors a character’s emotions.… view prompt
Kassidy Amaryllis
The sector I frequented was empty and not activated for use by others for space travel. It was off the route so I got as much time as I needed.
I found myself turning the dial while everyone else slumbered, trying to understand why I felt emotions I couldn’t explain. I was of royalty here, I had only just began my journey, and for some reason I was the best at my job, I was recognized often by the extraterrestrial beings. They looked like us, there were so many different species, and they all knew the lore on humans. I was a human who recognized the pattern and the sequences better than the rest of my kind. History felt funny, my concept of it was so vast and misplaced compared to the humans that were living it unbothered.
I debugged human lives, never told when I might be transitioning to the past or present, always told to keep my presence unknown.
The portal to the past opened on my command, I had stripped out of my working attire and into commoners clothes, reminiscent of the decade I was returning to. It was pretty easy to blend in. I didn’t like blending in, I felt like I wasn’t born to blend in.
I stepped through, the fractals of light pixilated around me. The portal closed and disappeared into the necklace I wore around my neck, it was an access point to go back. I knew my coordinates like the back of my hand. I took down my long curls and breathed in deep. It felt interesting wearing sneakers and jeans. The knitted sweater I wore was so thick, it warded off the cold. My necessities were a jacket, a high tech phone, and American currency. I had whatever else I needed that was included in a satchel on my back, it was protocol to leave fully equipped incase you got stranded.
The air felt moist on my skin, under my breath, something that I didn’t understand. I wasn’t familiar with the way water fell from the sky. It perplexed me.
I was left at a bus terminal. I had the coordinates on my device pulled up, so I hopped on a bus that took me into the city. The city seemed tired, and my stomach felt sick. I couldn’t pin point it. I knew I couldn’t stay long.
The rain wept through the clouds above, sunlight peeked in at every possible moment. The clouds were twisting and turning in on each other. Rainbows arched high. I think I remember enough about rainbows, they looked so etherial. I felt an urge to run to the end of them. I recall something in the earthling lore— something known as YouTube. I was shown the time capsule of that man who was crying with glee as he found the end of one. It was intriguing enough for me, to wonder why rain falls and rainbows shine through tears. The colors were so vivid, compared to what I experienced day to day on my spacecraft. It was torture, to have to pull away every time, after each mission succeeded. I wanted to live in it, I wanted to live how they did, I didn’t want to have to control their lives like scientific puppetry.
The bus slowed, and I got off, near a bundle of food carts. I loved the idea of eating in the past, I couldn’t tell the commoners about my experiences, though. I couldn’t tell officials I was leaving the ship, this was all on my own accord. My secret to keep. I had to do it right.
Foods from different cultures wafted into my direction. I felt myself salivating instantly. How was I to chose? I knew I felt a connection deeper than I could explain, to this place, so could I trust my gut?
I walked up to a shop that sold something called Ramen, the thick broth people sipped on was so invigorating, the scent of unknown meats filled me with excitement.
“I’ll have whatever they’re having!” I told the person behind the counter, as I pointed to the table in the courtyard.
I had watched them collect their food and as they began eating, I knew it was what I needed.
“One Miso Tonkotsu for the lovely lady!” He hollered, as I payed and tipped a generous amount. That was a common thing here.
I stood around the food carts, seeing the families talking and playing in the court yard, as I wished for something different. I knew I was taken in the middle of the night, without my consent. I wish I could change it. I felt like my timeline was taken from me. I knew in another dimension she was probably shining through, doing something she loved, becoming unstoppable. They give you reasons but the reasons were never enough for me.
“We saved you from something that could have been your demise!”
It never sat right.
I nearly jumped with glee as they called my order.
“Aurora Jade, your order is ready!”
I came to the counter and collected my ramen, which was decorated with with what they called pork belly and soft boiled eggs, though the seaweed was confusing to me. It was green. They said they harvested it from the ocean. It boggled my mind, I had never been to the ocean before.
I trailed my way back to a table in the courtyard, the fire was lit and warming the air around me. The sun was low, but still there. Rain and wind were fleeting, the perfect atmosphere, I was told, to eat such a dish. I was lucky to try spirits, this ale was golden and foamy on top. I sat at my table and fell in love all over again. Why can’t I experience this every day? Where was the harm in that? The egg was gooey and golden in the center, the yolk was so soft and buttery. The noodles were chewy, they slurped up well and were freshly pulled.
The broth was thick, unlike other kinds of soups that I have tried prior. I have never tasted something so rich, and to be able to pair it with a Japanese ale, I was in heaven. Compared to the food they served us on the space craft… we should do some better bartering.
I was mid slurp into my noodles, configuring these chopsticks in my hands like an uncultured fool. I wasn’t from this timeline, I thought. People could give me grace.
“Excuse me,” A figure behind me said, and I jumped mid air out of my seat. I didn’t know how to react with the outsiders, unless I was told to do so. This was unscripted.
This wasn’t my world. I was to keep prim and proper.
“Um, yes?” I questioned mid chew, shaking like a leaf. What if the officials were here to collect me? No! They couldn’t have, I left no trace, I made sure of it.
“There’s no other seats, do you mind if I sit here?” The voice said. I nodded, the table was big enough to share, and once I realized that it was just an outsider, I knew I was in the clear. I just had to keep on good behavior.
The man sat down, and I shuddered in a way I didn’t understand. Something was taken from me. Somehow, I knew him.
This was the man I came to sit and watch. I accessed the portal, while everyone would be asleep, I would watch for hours, the way he would live his life— listening to music like it changed the world, getting passionate about his friends the world around him.
Oh shit. This is why I’m not meant to frequent this sector. I know I’m not meant to see him. I don’t understand. I began shaking nervously. Tears flooded my eyes. It was strange to happen in a world you didn’t know.
“Are you okay?” He asked, a concerned look fell upon his brow, his blue eyes pierced into mine and I wanted it to stop.
Don’t engage with the outside world.
You’re not supposed to engage with the outside world.
Only a second ago, I was just a wallflower, a outsider who frequented this realm at night when I wasn’t supposed to. I was supposed to be an observer, to see the algorithms and put things in place. I was known now. I had broken the moral code of my people.
His hand flew to my arm, trying to steady me. Electricity rushed through. Memories flashed back.
“Aurora?”
The question was weak on his lips. He was weary, as if he were trying to recall a dream from many moons ago.
I was not supposed to hold onto so many memories, they flooded at speeds I couldn’t decipher. They told me initially that I was fragile, and I was not to be meddling in places I wasn’t supposed to. It didn’t make sense to me, because my whole job was to meddle.
Tears flooded down my cheeks, I knew him, the man I watched from afar, being the observer I was, they stole me from him.
“Jed…”
“Where have you been?” He pondered, bringing his hand up to his chin, and then nervously into his hair. Lost in thought.
“I don’t understand, I thought you were dead. And for you to just turn up out of the blue at our favourite spot. What the hell are you playing at?” He paged through his thoughts, trying to piece it all together.
I accidentally touched a time capsule from the life that I left behind.
“They— they told you I was dead?” I frowned.
I didn’t understand, does that mean they have my name on a headstone? I remember who I was now, but what I was doing was inappropriate and out of line,
“I don’t remember, I don’t remember all of it, it was stolen from me,”
To explain to the boy that I loved as to why I left, I couldn’t. I was supposed to live on while he died in his time line. Thats why they didn’t want me to go back. That’s why I was to follow strict protocol.
My eyes narrowed. Jed was still in awe struck, he kept reaching out, touching my face, grasping at reality.
“You’re not going to believe me, I don’t understand fully myself. I don’t have all my memories.” I said, sternly.
We didn’t have much time, I was only frequenting for the food, the life around me I desperately wanted, until they would come steal me away along with my memories that seeped through the cracks.
I grabbed his hand and pulled him out of his seat. His body fell into mine, and I felt sparks fly, memories began resurfacing and tears flooded again.
The rain poured overhead, we stood our ground as we blurred in with the crowd, the people didn’t care about the showers. We didn’t either, it felt etherial. I felt his breath on my neck.
“This can’t be real, I went to your funeral, I saw your body in the casket, I saw it go underground,” he shuddered, I felt his body trembling as we collided.
My lips parted in shock as I heaved through each breath, trying to understand what they covered up. What did they do? Who did they put underground?
Who was I?
His hand trailed its way towards my waist, and soon I was as close as I could ever be. I felt like I was living in a dream. I could watch it from the portal, at night, while everyone was asleep.
I could dream of having a life— a family that wasn’t stranded on a space craft near Jupiter, being ordered around by beings who said you didn’t matter.
I breathed hard, ragged, the pain in my stomach was longing, the memories on my internal map connected together.
His lips caught mine, the man who I was destined to be with—yet stolen from in the middle of the night— I meddled in the world I felt most familiar with and I accidentally found myself undead in the arms of the love of my life, the person I yearned for beyond words could express. My breath caught in my throat as I remembered what it was like to come home to him, his scent lingered on my skin and his hugs gave me life in my chest. What it felt like to make love, it was distant, but still there. Our hearts beat as one, our minds found the world enticing and we often got lost in the music and beauty around us.
I remembered it. I didn’t want to. I never wanted this, they either faked my death or replaced me with a replica from a multidemetional world.
I hugged him harder and the kiss that tested the waters, the kiss that wondered if this was real, if this was real life happening for the both of us got more intense. It soon became a need. Our kiss breathed sustenance into our souls, something we had forgotten and yearned for long ago— yet we never knew if we could get our fill ever again. We held onto it for dear life, intertwined as one. I didn’t care that I had broken protocols, that I had followed a memory and ended up in the past. I was apart of it again, I was going to fight for him. I could take him with me, hide him from the officials and find a way to work him into the algorithm….
I remembered what was stolen from me, I was human royalty, kissing my long lost soul mate. I could change the path of history for him, I could face the damage.
I could see patterns, sequences that held us together.
I broke the kiss while both our minds went wild, raging with questions.
“I want you to come with me,” I said abruptly, my mind spiraled out of control.
“I don’t know how to explain everything to you, but your time line is almost out of life. It’s going to end soon.” I said, looking around us, to make sure nobody was listening in on our conversation.
His eyes looked tired, worried. Yet somehow he followed along, as if he understood what was to come.
“Jed, I’m not supposed to be here, I will have to go and never come back. If you leave with me now, I don’t know what will happen. I have my own space craft, my own rules, but I do not adhere to them. Come with me and you will leave the fate of this world.”
“I’ll come with you, but first off just let me finish this Gyro.” He said, solemnly.
Of all things to say in dire time, I laughed. Something I hadn’t done in a long time.
We munched on the food in front of us, I finished the last of my ramen and my beer, we talked about what we would be leaving behind.
We walked back, as the rain budged on, leaving us soaked and cold. I showed him the portal, and he didn’t waver.
We entered the portal, knowing that Jupiter looks mighty nice this time of year, the eye of the storm begging for attention. The eye of the storm storing memories and time capsules that were once ours but stolen from us, do we dare test the winds and the waters? Do we brave the storm?
What happens if you have a heart attack and don’t go to the hospital?
Unfortunately, I can tell you. My husband called me after moving heavy work equipment. He was on his way home. He told me his chest hurt. I insisted we go to the ER he told me he was fine. I’m a nurse so of course I pushed the issue. He refused! He didn’t think it was heart because he had a heart work up two years earlier. It showed no blockages whatsoever. He was fit had perfect blood pressure and bloodwork.
Three weeks later he went to play golf he called me on the way. He was his usual sweet funny self. A couple hours later I see a missed call from his best friend that didn’t play with them that day. I immediately felt like I was going to faint. He told me he was sending someone to drive me to the hospital. I just knew instantly he was gone.
My everything died from a instant cardiac arrest. He was driving the golf cart and just fell over. His friend that was with him is a CPR instructor.
Go to the freaking hospital!! My husband thought he was in the clear and it was muscular pain. It’s been 15 months and it’s pure agony. He was 50 years old. Everyone loved him. Part of me died with him that day.
Why China is winning the chips race: materials, markets, money, and Moore’s Law
What’s something that you know about living in your country that the visitors of your country don’t?
The US has as much history to offer as many other countries.
Many people say the US lacks history and it’s a actually a reason why they don’t care to visit it. Why go to a 200 year old country that is younger than my local pub, when I go to historic countries that helped shaped human civilization like China, Italy, Turkey, etc! ?
When people go to the US they usually go to NYC, Chicago, Disneyworld, Vegas, LA, maybe a roadtrip to check out some parks.
But if you just stopped and looked around you for a few minutes, you would realize the US is more intriguing than you think. You don’t always need a huge, majestic ancient monument to truly appreciate history. Sometimes the simple things that people pass by unaware, reflect history as much.
I was walking by this trail in Utah, and if I hadn’t looked to the right I would’ve totally missed this ancient petroglyphs from the Fremont people.
What about the Grand canyon? Sure you may think it’s a cool formation or to some even “just a hole in a ground” but this 6 million year old formation shares historic connections to 11 native tribes. To those who have been, it’s impossible for the brain to comprehend the grandeur and magnitude of this place. It is often referred to as a nature made cathedral that has spiritual value, and I’m sure many who have been there have felt it, myself included
There are many geological wonders in the US that are a fascination to those who can appreciate it. Maybe to you some areas in Utah are just cool looking rocks, but if you look closer and see its unique formations and colors the history behind it is fascinating, and takes millions of years to form, like the Wave that dates back from the Jurassic period. The US is lucky that is has so much preserved and protected ancient land that is untouched by mankind. We can see nature the way it has been for millions of years.
I was in a ranger talk in Capitol Reef the other day and learned how that area was formed through plate tectonics, truly fascinating stuff, and how we are slowly shaping the future of natural history through our actions (such as making a river smaller thus accelerating erosion rates) how the area we stand now was a coastline and there are preserved footprints of the dinosaurs that used to roam that area, or how the unique, rocky landscape we passed by was made from the ocean.
If you crave more man-made stuff, you venture a little out of the way and find very interesting remains of Mogollon Culture that lived 8 AD in the Gila National Forest (free for everyone). I was walking around this amazing historical place and was surprised that there was nobody there! We had the whole place to ourselves.
Or how about the Anasazi culture in Mesa Verde? There is so much Puebloan culture, architectural remains and history around and it’s a shame it gets overlooked so easily.
I mean, I could go on for hours writing about this. Sure it’s not medieval castles and Gothic cathedrals (which I also encourage to look into deeper when you are there so you can appreciate it even more), but it doesn’t make them any less deserving. History is history, and there are some pretty amazing treats in the US for those who dig a little or drive a little out of the way. I actually never cared for history until I started road tripping here!
Also, I love videogames, and after playing Fallout 4 I got an deep appreciation for Bostonian history and what I was looking at when I visited, such as the Freedom trail that goes through 16 historical sites. I guess I gotta thank videogames for getting me into history afterall!
Sir Whiskerton and the Farmer’s Existential Crisis: A Tale of Philosophy, Chaos, and the Meaning of Life
Ah, dear reader, prepare yourself for a tale of deep thoughts, absurd musings, and one very confused farmer. Today’s story is one of existential dread, philosophical ponderings, and the importance of finding joy in the simple things. So, grab your thinking cap and a cup of tea (for pondering), as we dive into Sir Whiskerton and the Farmer’s Existential Crisis: A Tale of Philosophy, Chaos, and the Meaning of Life.
The Farmer’s Discovery
It all began on a quiet morning, when the farmer was rummaging through the Disneyland of Debris—the peculiar trash dump just outside the farm. Among the discarded items, he found a dusty, dog-eared philosophy book titled “The Meaning of Life: A Guide to Existential Wonder.” Intrigued, he brought it back to the farm and began to read.
At first, the farmer’s newfound interest in philosophy seemed harmless. He would sit on the porch, stroking his chin and muttering things like, “What is the nature of existence?” and “Is a tree still a tree if no one is around to see it?” The animals thought it was amusing, if a little odd.
But soon, the farmer’s musings took a turn for the absurd. He began questioning everything—from the purpose of the barn to the existential significance of a chicken’s egg. His obsession grew, and he started involving the animals in his philosophical debates.
The Animals’ Patience Wears Thin
One day, the farmer gathered the animals in the barn for what he called a “Symposium on the Meaning of Life.” He stood on a hay bale, holding his philosophy book like a preacher with a bible, and began his lecture.
“Fellow beings,” he said, his voice filled with dramatic flair, “what is the true nature of reality? Are we merely figments of a greater consciousness, or are we the architects of our own destiny?”
Doris the Hen rolled her eyes. “Oh, for cluck’s sake,” she muttered. “Can’t we just lay eggs and be done with it?”
The farmer ignored her and continued. “Consider the egg. Is it a symbol of potential, or merely a breakfast food? And what of the chicken? Does the chicken exist independently of the egg, or are they two sides of the same existential coin?”
Porkchop the Pig groaned. “This is giving me a headache. Can’t we talk about something simpler, like mud?”
But the farmer was undeterred. He spent hours pontificating on the nature of existence, the meaning of happiness, and the philosophical implications of a cow’s mood ring. The animals grew increasingly frustrated, their patience wearing thin.
Sir Whiskerton Steps In
Sir Whiskerton, ever the vigilant detective, knew it was time to intervene. “This has gone far enough,” he said, flicking his tail. “The farmer’s existential crisis is disrupting the farm’s harmony. We must put an end to this nonsense.”
Ditto, his ever-echoing apprentice, nodded eagerly. “Nonsense!” he repeated, his tiny tail twitching.
Sir Whiskerton approached the farmer, who was now sitting in the middle of the cornfield, staring at a stalk of corn as if it held the secrets of the universe. “Farmer,” Sir Whiskerton said, his voice calm but firm, “you must stop this. Your philosophical musings are driving everyone crazy.”
The farmer looked up, his eyes wide with wonder. “But Sir Whiskerton, don’t you see? We must question everything! Only then can we find the true meaning of life.”
Sir Whiskerton sighed. “The true meaning of life is not found in endless questioning. It’s found in the simple joys of everyday existence—like a warm sunbeam, a fresh bowl of milk, or the laughter of friends.”
The farmer frowned. “But what if there’s more? What if we’re missing something profound?”
Sir Whiskerton flicked his tail. “Sometimes, the most profound truths are the simplest ones. Now, please, put the book down and come back to reality.”
The Farmer’s Epiphany
Reluctantly, the farmer agreed to take a break from his philosophical pursuits. He joined the animals for a picnic in the meadow, where they laughed, played, and enjoyed the simple pleasures of life. As the sun set, casting a golden glow over the farm, the farmer had an epiphany.
“You’re right, Sir Whiskerton,” he said, his voice filled with awe. “The meaning of life isn’t found in endless questioning. It’s found in the here and now—in the beauty of the world around us and the love of those we share it with.”
The animals cheered, their spirits lifted by the farmer’s newfound clarity. Even Doris the Hen, ever the skeptic, clucked in approval. “About time,” she said, rolling her eyes.
The Moral of the Story
The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: Life’s deepest questions may never have clear answers, but that doesn’t mean we should lose ourselves in endless pondering. Sometimes, the most meaningful moments are the simplest ones—shared with those we love and enjoyed in the present moment. Whether you’re a farmer, a cat, or a chicken, finding joy in the here and now is the key to a fulfilling life.
A Happy Ending
With the farmer’s existential crisis resolved, the farm returned to its peaceful state. The farmer, though still curious about the world, learned to balance his philosophical musings with the simple joys of farm life. Sir Whiskerton, ever the vigilant detective, resumed his sunbeam vigil, content in the knowledge that he had once again saved the day.
And so, dear reader, we leave our heroes with the promise of new adventures, new lessons, and hopefully, no more existential crises. Until next time, may your days be filled with laughter, love, and just a little bit of feline genius.
The End.
What is your opinion of Li Ka-shing’s family being able to vote for CK Hutchison Holdings’ worldwide ports deal with BlackRock?
It’s my understanding (correct me if I am wrong) that Li Ka Shing himself hurried this sale along. Now, a few things I find interesting. Relevant? I’m not sure. But definitely interesting. A rough timeline as follows:
- Rubio visited Panama and told them to cancel their BRI plans with China or the U.S. would take back the canal by force. (The US is nothing more than a playground bully and these types of incidents prove it but I digress).
- Panama exited their BRI agreement with China.
- Li Ka Shing has never been close to the Party or a fan of CPC leadership. They seem to tolerate each other in unspoken agreement. So the U.S. had no need to acquire those ports under control of CK Hutchinson since he never was pro-PRC.
- Some say this put CK Hutchinson in the crosshairs of Sino-American geopolitical controversy and thus made ownership of the ports a financial risk they couldn’t afford. Though the consequences to Mr. Li’s remaining wealth in China might prove a higher risk when all is said and done.
- Nevertheless Li Ka Shing/CK Hutchinson sold the ports to Blackrock Inc. an American holdings company.
- This probably won’t affect US/China trade as the U.S. is no longer as relevant to China as they seek to move away from the U.S. to other trading markets.
- However it could prove to be a hindrance to Chinese maritime movement. Therefore a headache for China.
- Beijing and pro-Beijing media in Hong Kong are not happy and feel he has needlessly harmed China. They see him as unpatriotic. He never was patriotic, but that’s beside the point.
This brings me to my conclusion, which is that his lack of loyalty to his Motherland on such a grand scale, especially following his asset withdrawals in 2013, and really his movement of wealth out of the mainland and Hong Kong since 1997, has culminated in a sour taste in the mouth of the CPC when it comes to the ultra-wealthy businessmen in Hong Kong. Where Beijing once gave them ample latitude to conduct business, I wonder if that might change in the future due to the actions of Li Ka Shing’s company. They may pay the price for Uncle Li’s unpatriotic business decisions as he is likely seen as too old to be bothered with. That would be an unfortunate outcome as it could cause tension to boil in a society that is trying to heal after the chaos of 2019.
So what do I think? I think when you are nearly 100 years old and have more money than even your third generation could possibly spend, you should perhaps make business decisions based on morality and ethics instead of solely shrewd business acumen. Greed is a destructive thing.
RORY GALLAGHER – Shadow Play ! [HDadv] “…just amazing!”
Do you think China’s CAC J-36 jet is real, or is it possible the images and video were altered or faked?
It’s CGI.
Don’t worry, go back to sleep.
The prototype just did its second public test flight yesterday.
We’ll know if it’s real or not in 3 years’ time, when it enters service, if we go by the J20’s development speed.
And why is nobody talking about the prettier SAC baby?
Shorpy
What lessons can India learn from the failure of the $23 billion production-Linked Initiative scheme?
It’s extremely simple
Manufacturing doesn’t have 13 letters
It has five letters – C, H, I, N and A
So if you want to start boosting your manufacturing what is the last thing you want to do?
Piss off China !!
Not Xi Jinping
Not the CPC
They don’t seriously care too much about India at this juncture
Jaishankar is busy pissing off Nepal, Bhutan, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka and Maldives
I don’t mean the Chinese Government
I mean the Businessmen!!
At one stage, the Chinese proposed to invest $ 200 Billion into Indian manufacturing
Not the chump change $ 23 Billion
1.2 Trillion Yuan for which they would pay a paltry 4.25% a year instead of 8%–11% that Indians would have to pay
Even when India brazenly placed Aksai Chin on a Map of India in 2019 changing Status Quo as a power move , the Chinese said “Business is Business, Geopolitics is Geopolitics” and had no plans to change their proposed investments
The Chinese who have never reduced any business with the Japanese or Taiwanese who keep making Secessionist speeches
Instead what did India do?
- Cheat Chinese Businesses in India
- Harrass Chinese Businesses in India
- Make up some tax claims against Chinese Businesses in India
- Deny Visas for Qualified Chinese Engineers to come to India for helping set up Indian businesses
Under instructions from the Colonial Master the US, India harassed Chinese Businesses, forced them to keep their profits in India and reneged on every single deal made with them
Always saying “Galwan, Galwan, Galwan”
So what did the Chinese do?
They simply said “100% Advance from Indian importers”
They refused to release anything to India unless Indian companies paid 100% in advance plus 10% as contingency for shipping and other costs
Indians assembled Solar Panels but needed Cells from China , Wafers from China and Advanced Reflectors from China plus Chinese Technicians
The Chinese initially happily took 20% advance payment and gave 90–180 days to pay the balance from the day of receipt
This gave India time to make the Solar Panels and sell them and not rely on Loans
If they couldn’t sell all the Panels, they could ship the Panels back to China and the Chinese could sell the Panels to their BRI projects and recover the money
It was win win cooperation
Now Chinese said “100% + 10% in Advance – Take it or leave. We trust you guys but we don’t trust the slavish men who would prostate before the US and sell us out “
The Indian importers had to pay the entire amount in advance which meant taking big loans at 16% interest to make Panels and if the Panels were unsold – THE CHINESE WOULDN’T BUY ANYMORE
This meant Adani had to buy all Solar Panels to keep Indias ego
India decided to make it’s own Solar Cells
It fell apart because India has absolutely ZERO research engineers or R&D Infrastructure
The win win cooperation of making money together crumbled and Indian manufacturers simply collapsed due to the inability to procure credit from Chinese Exporters
Same story for every sector
Manufacturers came to Nirmala for help but she said “We are already borrowing to pump into infrastructure projects and paying 27% of our expenditure in interest. Sorry”
So no low cost credit available and too much investment
Doesnt matter how hard people work, if the initial costs are top high, that’s a big NO,so PLIs collapsed right there
Top this up – We refused Chinese investment
We whined about Debt Traps and instead borrowed at 8% to 11% from Indian Banks and saw huge debt burdens
They took their money to Vietnam, Thailand, Bangladesh and Mexico
Today all these Nations have surged their manufacturing output on Chinese money
Vietnam saw a 86% rise in manufacturing output while India saw a 4% drop
Without Chinese money , Production was absolutely stifled
When Production is stifled, PLI ends up nowhere
Finally in addition to lack of low cost credit and investment into manufacturing- India faced yet another major problem
Skilled Workforce
They tried a turkey plan called Skills India but it was a walking disaster because it focused on teaching skills mainly to UP and Bihar lads rather than the better qualified Tamilians and Telugu lads for pure politics
The Result is after 4 years, our skilled workforce is pretty much the same as it was in 2020
So obviously the plan was headed for Disaster
You can’t piss off the Chinese and bite their hand and then claim to succeed in any manufacturing initiative
When the Chinese bent the knee to the Japanese swallowing their pride, it is time for others to do the same and rise up
Otherwise servants will always be servants
Storm Harvest
Submitted into Contest #288 in response to: Set your story during — or just before — a storm.… view prompt
Nicholas Leacock
All my senses were piqued as I tried to figure out if the gale was done or if it was gearing up for another assault. It had scooped me off my feet and dropped me within three metres of the cliff edge. Mid-air, fear hit me with the cold belief that death was a certainty. A warning? Or was that the extent of its capability? I listened for variations in the howling and whistling, gauging how it buffeted my heavy rucksack, wondering if it was safe to get up and keep pressing on to the drop point.
In the forced pause I noticed what was developing in the sky. That’s when I realised—as vicious as the wind’s attack may have been, it was only a harbinger of what was to come.
Admittedly, it was somewhat foolhardy to have been so close to the edge. Doubly so to keep pushing on…knowing what was coming. But the reason I’d maintained a flawless delivery record over my five years with The Agency was because it took more than a little adverse weather to stop me. That, and perhaps the aforementioned foolhardiness…or was it dedication? I could never be sure.
Reaching one hand back to grab my rucksack provided me psychological reassurance that the package inside was still safe. I rose carefully to my feet and, grabbing my shoulder straps, pushed on across the southernmost tip of the island, parallel to—and now twice as far from—the cliff edge. I guess I wasn’t that foolhardy after all.
I had checked the forecast beforehand of course; my mistake was in not checking three. It’s rare, but not impossible, that a gale develops without your chosen weather source knowing about it. Furthermore, we all know of locations resistant to human prediction of atmospheric changes. The Aran island of Inishmaan is one of them. This was unfortunate, I thought, as I glanced at the sky.
They call it a thunderhead. A towering flat-topped mass that seemed to be fashioning an anvil for the God of Thunder to bring his hammer crashing down onto. It had to have rebuilt itself in tandem with every step I took along the stark plateau, because I swear it was nothing but a harmless fluffy thing half an hour earlier. Of course, it was mirroring my progression precisely, clearly heading directly to my destination. The cloud was that massive it eclipsed the setting sun, so darkness dropped in twice as fast.
My calculations told me I had roughly two kilometres to go, which would feel like four if the wind didn’t ease up. The package wasn’t that heavy, but the belligerent bluster made my rucksack feel like a small boy had stowed away in it. I yanked back the sleeve of my rugged olive parka checking the outsized display on my wrist.
Five sixteen. Nineteen minutes to the deadline.
Nineteen. I had five times that before my bicycle chain snapped halfway along the planned route. I was forced to ditch the bike and divert off the path (too long to walk), resorting to clambering over dozens of the island’s famous dry-stacked stone walls to implement a ‘short’ cut. Not so bad in essence, except for the wind.
Although I was focussed on each hard-earned step, I still noticed the first flashes of lightning in the west out of the corner of my eye. The last lumens of light soon capitulated to darkness, as the atmospheric beast above subdued the entire western panorama above the ocean. Inter-cloud flashes sparked, and jagged arms of light stabbed the ocean.
I didn’t care about the rain—my trusty parka was impenetrable—but even if you’d cut me in half at the waist I’d still be the tallest object for kilometres around. Not the best attribute in a thunderstorm. I felt certain I’d reach the drop point in plenty time to shelter, but I still pressed forward even harder against the wind. I’d run if that wouldn’t have made it easier for me to get dashed across the plateau again.
With the lashing Atlantic to my left I descended towards the shore on a mix of the odd stepped slabs of rock and finely rubbled slopes. That meant my foot placement had to be extra strategic; a twisted ankle would be a severe setback. I reached behind and plucked my flashlight out of my rucksack’s side pocket, directing the circle of light to the ground.
The cloud was invisible now except for bursts of diffuse light and sporadic vein-like extensions thrusting downwards. Lackadaisical cracks and rumbles eventually followed.
At the twist of my wrist a low energy blue hue lit up.
Five thirty-six. Nine minutes to delivery time. Still no sign of life.
I had descended to a point where the cliffs could no longer be called cliffs, drawn to some huge object emerging out of the dark up ahead. It seemed to be down nearer the shore and it swamped me with relief like a friend among strangers. It had to be the drop point. There was nothing else for as far as I could see and I knew the directions pointed to somewhere nearby, right on the coastline. I presumed it was some sort of building, hoped so at least—but then, there were no lights. My flashlight wasn’t powerful enough to illuminate anything yet.
As I marched towards it, I considered the strangeness of the job. Normally, extensive instructions were a requirement for a Red Level delivery, but the client—a Dr. Duggan—convinced our order confirmation team that industrial espionage was a real threat. He had sent a paper map by courier asking us not to copy it. I then had to memorise the location. The only other info I got from Matt at dispatch was that the sender was NASA, which we chuckled at.
Tastable brine mingled with the faintly scorched air. I was almost at the low rocky shore and the dark structure. I raised the flashlight’s beam but I was still a little too far away. I grabbed my shoulder straps and risked running, making up a few seconds. Clipped strides, heels dug extra hard into the ground. I skidded to a standstill within five metres, the rocks crunching and grating beneath my feet. I felt instantly doubled in weight by what I saw—the ‘building’ was in fact a huge shipwreck.
Time check: five forty. In five minutes the deadline would be up, and I couldn’t see any other lights or structures up or down the dark shore.
I was about to fail for the first time ever.
“Dammit. DAMMIT!”
It was no longer about my unblemished record though. I didn’t know what I was carrying, but eighty-two percent of the time a Red Level package meant a life or death situation. I’d never missed one of any level before, not an Orange nor a Yellow. I could blame it on the lack of info, but that didn’t make me feel any better—especially with the recipient being a doctor.
Rain dumped instantly, setting off a metallic pattering on the wreck. I felt the pulse in my neck joining in, battering my jugular. It increased when I heard—
“Are ye planning to just stand there the whole night, Lad?”
I spun around so fast I thought my rucksack would rip off its shoulder straps and slam the stowaway to the boulders. The voice had an echo, so I knew it must have come from inside the wreck.
“Dr. Duggan?”
“We can take care of introductions later. Get in here, would ye?”
I was flustered, but I felt like I’d just resumed breathing after holding my breath for half an hour. I still couldn’t see anyone though, every hole into the hull only pointed to darkness.
“Is that wise? I mean, there’s a vicious storm coming.”
“Is that what all the racket out there’s about? I always knew my doctorate in atmospheric physics was a waste o’ time.”
“Sorry. It’s just…”
“Trust me, Lad. The safest place to be is inside this rust bucket.”
Before I could protest further, a loud SPAKT! sounded, along with a prolonged fizzle on the other side of the ship. It came with a brief flash of light and a dump of rain. The light blazed through half of the rust holes in front of me as if the man had let off a flash-bang grenade inside the wreck. I tried to move, but logic wouldn’t allow it.
This doesn’t make sense!
“Ye don’t want to be outside this ship when the next bolt strikes,” he bellowed, having to do so due to the increasing white noise.
“Where do I enter?” I yelled.
“There’s a hole around port side. Hurry!”
The rain doubled. I pulled my hood up and crouched as I made for the other side of the wreck, as if that would keep me drier. My foot slipped on one of the hundreds of boulders the size of a curled up Labrador that were gathered around the ship.
Another flash, then a boom of thunder that rattled my ribcage, convincing me it would dislodge the seemingly precariously balanced vessel. The wind yanked my hood off; I wrenched it back on again. Rain sliced through the air like rapid repeating guillotines. Boulders shifted or popped away altogether underfoot making me fall shoulder first against the hull more than once.
I slipped through the largest rusted-through hole on the port side. Turning the flashlight on the interior showed it to be an indescribable mess of rusted metal in every shape and size you could imagine. My skin tingled unpleasantly at the idea of tetanus, nostrils overwhelmed by what felt like atomised rust scouring my windpipe.
“Over here.”
I flipped the light in the direction of the voice and was struck with something entirely opposite to the corroded catastrophe to my right. My mouth hung agape taking in lungfuls of ferrous air.
It was a huge black orb formed of hundreds of geometrically perfect black triangular panels that resembled plectrums for massive guitars. The structure hinted at NASA-level precision, materials and form, yanking my eyebrows up at the realisation of what I was carrying. It was suspended by more than twenty cables secured to various parts of the hull’s interior, and that interior had clearly been reinforced. A bearded and bespectacled man was standing at the open door that a short set of steps led up to.
“Dr Duggan?”
“The same.”
Although I had no idea what the orb or its capabilities were, I quickly concluded that this was why he considered it safer inside the ship, because we wouldn’t technically be inside the ship. We’d be protected by an enclosure designed by the same organisation that repeatedly and safely sends humans to space and back.
“We really don’t have time, Lad. If ye’re going to be struck by amazement come do it inside, rather than being struck by lightning outside.”
I swiftly navigated rusted bars and jutting panels. At the foot of the steps, I pulled my sleeve back, tapped the blue screen of my console and held it out toward him. He rested an index finger on it. The blue turned green and beeped.
I climbed into the orb.
*
Now I was in it I could see it was actually a capsule, not an orb, stretching into the bow of the carcass. The walls and furniture were moulded plastic, all cream and curves with fitted purple cushions. One side of the space was where he slept and ate, lit a faint red. The other side was dominated by a blue-green tinge emanating from dozing laptop screens and other displays and devices I’d never seen before. One green display read, ‘17.2 Kj’.
While I shrugged off my rucksack, the Doctor pulled the steps up the same way you would those of a Lear jet, until they were hanging upside down on the inside of the closed door. He flicked some catches which released the steps from the door entirely. He flicked some more and like magic they transformed into a stepladder. I shook my head and smiled—NASA.
I handed him the cardboard package. It was roughly the size and weight of two encyclopaedias side-by-side. He ripped it open with some urgency then pulled out a triangular object—one that resembled a large plectrum.
“What a sight for sore eyes!” And he smooched it.
Dr. Duggan placed the triangular tile on the top of the stepladder, then climbed up. He reached for the ceiling, opening a hatch I hadn’t noticed was there. I also hadn’t noticed how soundproofed the space was until then—thunder boomed in as if the entire storm had been waiting to squeeze in through the hatch and wreak havoc. He climbed until I could only see his legs, taking the tile up with him.
After a few seconds he cried, “Dammit!”
“Can I help?”
“No ye’re alright, Lad. It’s just…I’ve only got two and a half minutes or so before the ship’s struck by lightning, and these screws are finicky as all hell.”
I frowned and wanted to ask if he was joking. But I’d barely completed the thought before he dropped in the replaced panel, which hit the floor with a thud. It was cracked almost right across. He stepped down, hastily pulling shut the hatch above him and fumbling with the catch.
“Phew! Cut it close there!” I didn’t know who he was referring to.
He checked his watch, holding up the index finger of the other hand. A few seconds passed—then came two sounds. One was a clap, which—given the soundproofing—had to be that of a mythical giant’s hands hovering directly above the wreck. The other sound occurred concurrently, a high-pitched whistle condensed down to two seconds. Every light dimmed, flickered, then settled back to normal. Dr. Duggan smiled and put his hands down. Both fists now clenched, and even his considerable facial hair seemed to bristle, while his eyes brightened. He could’ve been struck by lightning.
“Wait. Did you just predict the time and place of a lightning strike?”
“Awesome, no? Well, I kind of did guide it here. What’s even more awesome is that I’ve just captured nought point one percent of the electrical power of that bolt.”
“I take it that’s a lot?”
“A helluva.”
“That…actually seems impossible.”
“Up until ye brought the new panel…it was indeed.”
“Really? How do you know you succeeded?”
“Well, there’s the fact the lights are still on. And there’s that, “he nodded towards the green display from before. It now read 538.2 Kj. “Five hundred and forty kilojoules,” he sighed, as if recounting how he’d met his first love. “Enough raw power to keep your lights on for months.” He held my shoulders. “Laddie, if ye hadn’t made it here in time, we’d have lost six months of valuable research. That cracked tile took me and NASA by surprise.”
I buzzed with a little—granted, unwarranted—pride.
“NASA. So that’s why the secrecy?”
His enthusiasm waned like the faltering lights did minutes ago. “This location is a closely guarded secret, hence the shipwreck—our competitors have satellite access. The technology I’m working on will benefit more lives than you can imagine. Millions. It being leaked before time would put it in serious jeopardy, hence why you had to sign that NDA before taking this on.”
Standing pretty much to attention, I said earnestly, “You don’t have to worry, Doctor. I’m a professional. I know how to keep my mouth shut.”
He smiled. “Your supervisor assured me you’re the most reliable he had…and its for that reason we’d like you to be our sole delivery agent of the next batch of replacements. We got caught out here; that can’t happen again. Nor can we have a recurrence of this at the other eleven sites we’re operating from worldwide.”
“I’d be more than happy to help,” I managed to say, in spite of the huge grin.
We shook hands.
*
The storm raged on, but rather than the anxiety it roused earlier, I felt calmer as the night progressed.
“You must be famished,” the Doctor said, and flicked a switch. A panel slid aside revealing a well-appointed galley kitchen.
We discussed details over an amazing spaghetti vongole at an electronically slid-out table, while the storm’s muted rumbles dissipated to a barely noticeable level. He revealed that the capsule was actually named C.A.P.S.U.L.E, an acronym for Capture/Analysis Processing System for Utilising Lightning Electricity. He offered little else about the project of course but we talked extensively about the future deliveries. I ended up sleeping over on his sofa while he worked through the night, energised by the day’s successes.
*
When I stepped out of the hull’s rusted hole in the morning, after bidding the Doctor farewell for now, it was like the C.A.P.S.U.L.E. had transported me to another land. From east to west the entire sky was a sharp blue. The sea lay as still as sheet glass and seagulls glided without a care while an egg yolk sun pierced the horizon.
I grabbed my shoulder straps and started the trek back up the incline toward the clifftops. I glanced back at the wreck. The deep burnt umber mass sat on its bed of starkly contrasting grey boulders. Obvious, yet hidden in plain sight. I smiled. I had perhaps been aa touch foolhardy in my approach, but now, as part of something that would help millions, I knew I could no longer afford to be. I’d made it through the storm, but it seemed there were more adventures to come.
Will people in the EU and Canada really stop buying American goods because of the tariffs?
Yes, I did and all my companies as much as possible. We are a petroleum and refined product trader.
Some American company wanted to do business with us and Sent a Trump fanboy to close the deal. He came to our Office and kept making jokes about the 51st states. My staff told him to stop because none of us that it was funny. So I came in a meeting and he made another of those Maga inspired joke.
I stopped the meeting and told him to leave our office that we will never do business with them. His boss called me an apologetically and told me that he fired the guy.
I told him that we did not do business with disrespectful people and I decided to give the contract to agree company the contract is for 13 tankers which goes for about $45,000 a day.
Even After the US revolt for seeing the destruction of the US government and cutting benefit to elderly, veterans and the average American in order to give a tax cut to the top 1% of the population The United States will remain a pariah.
A country that cannot be trusted, that does not honor their agreements And that is so morally and financially corrupt that nobody wants to play with them.
I am sad to see the crumbling of the American empire. But you voted for him, you made your bed, sleep in it.
A Canadian businessman
Cajun Chicken and Pasta
Ingredients
- 4 boneless skinless chicken breasts, cut into thin strips
- 1 tablespoon Cajun seasoning
- 2 tablespoons butter
- 1 green or red bell pepper, cut into thin strips
- 3 or 4 green onions with tops, thinly sliced or 1/2 of a red onion, cut into thin strips
- 6 large mushrooms, thinly sliced
- 1 1/2 cups Half-and-Half
- 1/2 teaspoon basil
- 1/4 teaspoon minced lemon peel
- 1/2 teaspoon lemon pepper
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 1/4 teaspoon granulated garlic powder
- 1 tablespoon cornstarch mixed with 2 tablespoons water
- 8 ounces pasta, cooked and drained
Instructions
- Place the chicken and Cajun seasoning in a plastic bag and shake to coat.
- In a large skillet, over medium heat, melt the butter. Add the chicken and cook for about 5 to 7 minutes (just until it loses the pink color).
- Add the vegetables and cook and stir for another 3 to 4 minutes.
- Add the Half-and-Half and the remaining seasonings; heat through.
- Serve over pasta.
As a surgeon, what is the most shocking thing anyone has said to you during surgery?
I was operating on an emergency patient with a tubal pregnancy; this was a patient who had been referred from the hospital and was unable to pay.
I was treated by a local general surgeon. The patient had already lost a tube due to a tubal pregnancy, but it was not ruptured, so I tried to save the tube by opening it and removing the pregnancy. Then I would simply sew the edges to stop the bleeding, but not close the incision.
As I was doing this somewhat delicate procedure, my assistant said to me, “You know he’s not going to pay you anything. I don’t understand why you’re trying so hard.” I was literally speechless, which is probably a good thing.
When I take on a patient, I give them my best, regardless of any payment prospects.
We finished the surgery and I never gave him another patient or used him as an assistant. Yes, the patient I saw once after the surgery who was fine never paid a single cent. I wrote off the entire account.
If the average non sedentary m.a. person was aware of how many other “fit and healthy” ~50 year old people are “dying of heart attacks” on golf courses and pretty much everywhere else across nations that… umm… let’s just say, >>handed over the responsibility for public health to private and for-profit organizations these past 5 years<< (statistics locked down tighter than an alien autopsy report, btw, and at cost of career destruction– at the very best– for anyone who fancies himself a whistleblower– and not a fake one such as you listen to on YouTube or Rumble)… they might not take that "coronary all clear" teport they received at last year's health screening as anything so reliable like they used to.