Have a good reputation.
You don’t know how difficult life can be once yours has been erased. One stint in Jail, or worse yet prison, and your life and career is gonna be a hard climb.
Add being labeled as a “sex offender” and your life is over. Heck. I couldn’t even get work cleaning up dog shit from the local Humane society shelter.
But now…
…with the manosphere, red pill movements and all the rest… the light of day is beginning to shine on how easy it is to destroy someone though accusation.
Anyways. Take my experiences to heart.
Make sure that you are protected; that you have a STRONG network of friends and family. that you have savings, and untouchable assets.
Oh sure, I made a lot of mistakes.
But the best things that I did was put money in foreign banks only accessible by myself and my fingerprint. Then make up a network of friends in China untouchable by the crazy bullshit in the USA.
Now… Jeeze Louise…
The USA is now full-on Crazy Town. One of the recent videos talks about how unhealthy Americans are right now. And lordy over 70% are clinically obese, and over 50% have diabetes.
I endured and (somehow) landed on my feet. There’s a lot of reasons for that. But my point is simple… be careful and do not… NEVER allow a single person to accuse you of something that you did not do that destroys FUNCTIONALLY your life, your industry and your career.
Today…
When did a sad reaction from your parents break your heart?
When I was 17, my father was infuriated that I didn’t do the trad Chinese thing. Go to university and become a white collar worker of some kind. It had to be:
- Doctor – (wasn’t smart enough)
- Lawyer – (didn’t want to do it)
- Accountant – (didn’t want to do it)
There’s also a small cohort that go into architecture but every UK Chinese I know who went into it failed at the 7 year qualifying period. They really tried guilt tripping me that they wanted my life to be better than theirs. They were trad types where university automatically meant a good job. They of course only saw the people at the TOP of the pyramid.
Look! Look at our accountant! He has a nice car and a big house! My dad of course didn’t recognise survivorship bias. He had the old mentality get a white collar job earn loads of money, get married at 25 have children at 27 etc etc.
He recognised it (survivorship bias) about 10 years later when my generation of UK born Chinese started burning out in their jobs.
As above Lawyers, accountants, and part qualified architects started quitting and doing something else and seemed to burn through their 20s and simply become depressed and that there were tons of families where their sons/daughters simply worked ordinary jobs. The biggest hammer blow to his mentality was where Patrick a Cambridge graduate ended up quitting his job as a partner in a finance firm and opening his own takeaway, as it was less stressful but more money.
I was of course vindicated by my early 20s, my golden child Chinese cousins who did the whole university shebang were in their final years and just entering the job market. I had been in China getting contacts and building my own business.
The second time I broke my parents was when I renounced my UK citizenship. As with the trad Chinese mentality of post WW2, I had apparently won the GOLDEN LOTTERY TICKET by being born in the UK with full UK citizenship. They were why? It’s not so bad here! I told them look China is the future. Then the UK had some serious problems after 2019. My dad goes there (the UK) and says WTF when he sees prices go up frequently. He literally said in 2023 I was right to choose to live here.
EDIT
Semi unrelated
Check this out. It shows how deeply propagandised Americans are. I don’t even write anything about the Chinese government in my post. I write about my personal experiences growing up as an overseas born Chinese. Yet he feels like he can step into my thread use People vs Hall 1854 against me and then slunk away playing victim.
How often do you see me go into threads of people I’ve never interacted with before and call them USAID,NED, CIA posters? There clearly are lots of them with the number of hollow accounts we witness here.
Man Finds Out Wife Cheated With His Friend, Then Did This
What are the real reasons behind imposing tariffs, if reviving US manufacturing isn’t possible according to some experts?
Trump played a great political game.
His MAGA theme resonates with many Americans. He convinced them that tariff would bring home manufacturing and make America great again.
He convinced them that there would be no retaliations. Other nations would not dare. He would cut them off from the American market. America has the world’s most wonderful economy and the mighty dollar.
He convinced them this was payback time for America to regain its power and influence that Biden lost, and for the long years of ripped-off by other nations. His tariff will reverse the trade deficit. The worst offenders are Mexico, Canada, Europe, Japan, South Korea, and China.
Therefore, his purpose was also revenge.
Then he wants his tariff to bring in revenue to pay for his tax cuts, to reduce government and trade deficits, and to reduce the national debt.
He sees his tariff the universal panacea.
Americans did not bother to analyze nor care that his purposes are in conflict. This was the heat of the campaign. But even now with time to pause and ponder, they would rather hear from him than what experts might say.
Overall, tariff is his way to ride on America, his ego to show strength and power, the lord and king of the universe. He would be sorely pissed by the retaliations from Canada and EU, and especially by China.
Why does China look so confident in this trade war vs. the USA? Can finance/economic experts tell us something we don’t know?
You don’t have to be an expert, you just need to read newspapers regularly.
China discovered already in 2016–20 that USA could change its attitude drastically on a whim. They designed their economy to not be taken by surprise.
So they have built in resilience. And they have prepared counter-measures. Surely you realize why Musk is so strongly against the trade war? He has just been locked out from Chinese rare earth elements, that’s why. The Chinese sits on a huge portion of the raw materials needed to build EVs and solar panels and microchips and, for that matter, F35s, and they just enacted export controls – they call it “licensing” or something, but the bottom line is, Teslas can’t be built in the USA anymore, and they’ll probably stop supplies to the Tesla factory in Germany, provided the Germans still lets it operate despite the environmental disaster it’s proving to be.
And that’s just one obvious example. Vietnam was USA’s partner in the region to contain Chinese expansionism; Vietnam had even specialised in supplying USA with things they needed – and out of nowhere, USA decided that this supply was somehow “unfair”, slapped unilateral tariffs on Vietnam, and guess who’s going to buy all that stuff now even if they lose money on the deal? China, that’s who. The tariffs just handed Vietnam to China.
There’s a lot of that sort of thing going on right now. The Chinese leadership might be many things, but “stupid” is not one of them.
They were prepared.
And at the same time, it’s obvious that the US tariff regime was slapped together in an afternoon by people who had no clue what they were doing.
Of course the Chinese are totally confident. They were prepared, they know that the USA wasn’t.
Trump SMASHES Big Pharma! Slashes Drug Prices to Save Americans BILLIONS!
Do you think you are ugly? Why or why not?
Physically speaking? I know that I am. I’m middle-aged. I’m overweight. My skin carries scars. There’s nothing physically appealing about me anymore. I’m keenly aware of my shortcomings when it comes to how the world looks at me.
But my heart is full of love and tenderness and compassion. My backbone is full of steel resolve. My voice speaks with straightforward truth. My mind is intelligent.
Am I ugly? Well, you can be the judge. But your answer says more about your character than it does about me.
Acuweather
Written in response to: “Set your story during — or just before — a storm.“
Riley Noel
“They can rob you blind with those late fees, I’d be careful.”
“Thanks Murr, get yourself out of the rain.”
“There’s not a cloud in the sky, I’ve got some time.” Murr continued down the street far too slowly.
Ansel sighed and opened up the letter from the library.
“Beginner’s Acupuncture,” he mumbled to himself. “Overdue, five weeks… two-hundred bucks?!” He held the letter up and looked it over again. “That’s wild.”
He got out of his rocking chair with a groan. His knee was stiff. Holding his mail to his chest, he hobbled inside and flipped on the weather channel.
His least favorite face came on the screen: Roland, terrible weatherman.
“What do you have for us today, fraud?”
“For those of you staying at home,” Roland started. “You’re missing one of the most beautiful days of the year.”
Ansel let out a mocking snort. Roland continued, unphased.
“With a high of seventy, and a low of sixty-five, today’s a great day to get your vitamin D in the valley.” Ansel held his knee in protest of this information. There’s no way that was true.
“And when you’re done getting that tan, come by the library where I’ll be doing a signing for my new book: Weather and Whatever. It chronicles the life of your favorite weatherman, from his varsity football days to his years on your television screen, every morning seven AM sharp. See you there.”
Ansel turned off the TV, revealing his hunched over visage in the reflection. His knee hurt. There was a storm coming and it was going to rain out Roland’s book signing, he was sure of it.
He turned to his bookshelf and scanned for Beginner’s Acupuncture, he paused at the framed photo of his football team. There was Roland at the front, always had to be at the center of the world.
Ansel’s hand landed on the book and he pulled it off the shelf. He needed to use it before he got anymore late fees. He set the book and the package Murr brought by on the counter and began to leaf through the pages.
“Knee, knee, knee…” Ansel whispered to himself. “Knee.” He’d found the section.
DO NOT USE NON-ACUPUNCTURE NEEDLES
The warning at the start of the chapter was bold and centered, not to be missed. But you must be licensed to buy the real kind of needles, Ansel thought as he ripped open his package. These were pretty standard sewing needles, as thin as he could find.
What’s the big deal? He was getting desperate for some relief.
“Yang Ling Quan,” he read aloud. “Located below and in front of the head of the shinbone.” He felt around on his knee, looking at the diagram. “That’s got to be the yingling.”
“Yin Ling Quan,” he continued. “On the outside of the lower leg, below, and in front of the head of the shinbone.” He felt around as he read until he was satisfied.
He looked out his kitchen window, the sky was still clear. Maybe his knee was just getting worse. It all started the day Roland tackled him at practice, a prank gone wrong. Or maybe a rivalry gone too far, but it had been getting worse with age. The party trick of feeling incoming storms was getting old.
Ansel felt again for the Yang Ling Quan and held his finger to it as he pulled out a needle. This was just a test, he could always get the real needle when he got serious about this. He drove the needle in above his finger.
Nothing. He felt nothing. The pain stopped. Then pain shot through his entire leg, and up through his body. His vision went white and he heard a loud bang.
Laying on the floor, he came to. There was wind howling through his kitchen. He pulled himself up and realized the kitchen window had burst open, and a giant crack was letting water in.
Ansel went into his bathroom to grab a towel. Coming back into the kitchen, he peered out the broken window and saw a smoldering hole in his back yard. That must have been the bang, he thought. Lightning struck right outside.
He couldn’t wait to see what Roland had to say about this. He turned on the weather channel. Roland was reporting live from the library, at his signing.
“We’ve never seen a storm like this in the one hundred fifty years of our town! I advise everyone to shelter in place under the storm calms down. There’s a strong possibility of tornados touching down as well…” Roland continued as Ansel smirked to himself.
He looked down to his knee and saw the needle still there. It had really worked, no pain, no aches. He pried the needle out and studied it. Who needs acupuncture needles? These work fine.
The aching began to return, quickly, and worse than before. He felt around for the Yang Ying Quan and held his finger there, driving the needle back in. His TV lit up and the room glowed white. Ansel flew backwards into his coat stand.
Lighting had struck his TV, and left a smoldering pile of junk. Laying on his back, Ansel looked to his knee, then to the TV. What were the odds? Two strikes at the same moments he jabbed himself. There’s no way that’s coincidence.
He pulled himself up by his coat rack and put on a poncho. Whatever was happening, he was going to unleash it on Roland.
Why D.C. Gets China So Wrong
Why is China so annoyed when high representatives of countries meet and/or honor people such as the Dalai Lama or HK exiled activist Nathan Law? Shouldn’t countries be free to host the Lama or Law freely if they wished? Opinions? Thank you.
Think how would US reacted if Chinese president met with Bin Laden and praise him as the “freedom fighter of the islamic world”?
Of course Dalai Lama dislikes PR China,
He literally owned those serfs before communist party of China caming into Tibet.
Beglium colonizers, along with all colonizers understand Dalai Lama.
Think how would US reacted if China rescued Tsarnaev brothers whom commited Boston Marathon bombing because they are considered as the warriors who dared to fight against suppressive US regime?
Think what would Americans say when they found out that Tsarnaev brothers once met Chinese officials?
The dark blue shirt and gray jeans is Nathan Law BTW. The one in black shirt and blue shorts is Josha Wong, a close commrade of Nathan. The lady is Julie Eadeh, who worked for US consulate in HK.
How about the organizers of storming Capitol Hill got caught meeting with Chinese officials?
Or the organizers of BLM meeting with Chinese officials?
Think what would US politicians reacted if Americans took over Capitol Hill and showing banner saying “there is no rioter but tyranny!”
They’d ask their body guards to pull out pistols and shoot on site:
The pistol is pointing up because he just fired a round, and hit a female on her neck.
It’s all about perspective, and it can be changed from time to time.
Do you think the Tibetan serfs would like to have Dalai Lama back?
Not really. Mao was and is praised as Manjushri in Tibet, which is the buddha of the wisdom.
If you consider the silent majority as non-human, then these 2 regions should be “free”.
Blue Cheese Hamburgers with Barbecue
Sauce and Sautéed Mushrooms
Ingredients
Hamburgers
- 3 pounds ground beef
- 1 teaspoon cumin
- 1 teaspoon paprika
- 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
- 1/2 teaspoon chili powder
- 1/2 teaspoon salt Pinch cayenne pepper
- 4 ounces blue cheese
- Salt and pepper to season
- 8 onion rolls, cut in half
Sautéed Mushrooms
- 4 tablespoons butter
- 4 tablespoons minced onions
- 4 tablespoons minced shallots
- 1 pound fresh mushrooms, sliced
- Salt and pepper to taste
- 1/4 cup beer
Barbecue Sauce
- 1/2 cup ketchup
- 1/2 cup light brown sugar
- 1/4 cup spicy brown mustard
- 1/4 cup molasses
- 1/4 cup cider vinegar
- 3 cloves garlic, crushed
Instructions
Hamburgers
- In a large bowl combine the ground beef, cumin, paprika, pepper, chili powder, salt and cayenne pepper.
- Gently form into 16 (3 ounce) patties about 1/2 inch thick.
- Use a spoon to make an indentation in the center of 8 of the patties.
- Place 1/2 ounce blue cheese in the indentation and cover with another patty.
- Gently form into burgers.
- Cover and refrigerate.
- Just before grilling, lightly season with salt and pepper, then coat with barbecue sauce.
- Grill the burgers over a medium fire until done to your taste: 5 minutes per side for rare, 6 to 7 minutes for medium, 9 to 10 minutes for well done.
- Remove burgers from grill and brush with more barbecue sauce.
- Toast the rolls and serve the burgers topped with the Sautéed Mushrooms.
Barbecue Sauce
- Heat all ingredients in a saucepan over medium high heat. Bring to a boil then lower the heat and let simmer for 30 minutes, stirring frequently.
- Remove from heat and remove the crushed garlic cloves.
Sautéed Mushrooms
- Heat the butter in a medium nonstick skillet over medium high heat.
- Add onions and shallots and cook until they are tender, about 2 to 3 minutes.
- Add the mushrooms, season with salt and pepper and sauté until the moisture has evaporated.
- Add beer, salt and pepper to taste. The beer will evaporate.
Why do some people think that tariffs could lead the US into a recession or even a depression, like the situation in 1929?
Perhaps because within a single fiscal quarter of the Trump-GOP imposed American attack on the entire globalized economy — ugly fiscal reality has forced almost every major US manufacturer to shut down more, then more, of their domestic US production. Trump’s tariffs are a ‘flesh-eating disease’ forcing amputations, then further deeper amputations of US-based production. Hundreds of thousands of American factory jobs have been lost.
To give a sense of perspective? A ‘bean-counter’ analysis confirms that a single fiscal quarter of the Trump-GOP led US assault on the rest of the world has erased more US industrial production than the months of ‘1000 plane raids’ inflicted on WW2 German industry. No hyperbole. There is a modicum of joy (for we the rest of the world) that the Trump-America’s tariff assault casualties are overwhelmingly America. American manufacture. American retail. American workers/consumers.
The tariffs released the rest of the world from commitments to buy American products. That’s what happens when the American seller breaks — dishonours — their deal by raising their price due to tariff inflation. Fleets of Bowing aircraft cancelled – the purchase pivoted to AirBus or to Comac. Fleets of F-35 attack aircraft cancelled. American brand internal combustion vehicles unable to compete in the ‘global auto-mall’ due both to American and reciprocal tariffing. And Tesla, the boring EV, sales plummeting globally to barely 3% of the EV related total. By Q4 2025 it’s likely Apple’s global income will have similarly tanked.
The (outside the US) delightful news of Moody’s ‘taking the US down a notch’ — and the world, er, ‘holding its nose’ and waving “We’ll pass on that” when the US offers its Treasury bonds suggests the rest of the world is tired of propping up the American economy by giving credit where it’s neither wise nor due . . . points to recession or depression.
Without export America’s production will have to fall. To put it mildly. Unless the average American is expected to ‘take up the slack’ created by the loss of 90% of the global market that enriched it? That’s a lot of heavy lifting for Americans already treading water.
Shorpy
I’m 52 years old and nobody will hire me. Why?
I’m thinking it’s way more than age.
Type of work you do. The job market where you live. Your particular field.
I retired from a Federal govt job at 62. I realized I didn’t really like retirement.
I posted a resume on Indeed.
Right away I got some calls for interviews.
A medical device company, a railroad, a contract govt job, an instructor position.
So I stated going through the interview process. Drug screening. Written exam. Background check. In every case there was heavy overtime on those positions. Over 55 to 60 hours per week. I didn’t find that out until the final interview. I declined those positions. I was only interested in 9 to 5.
Three of them called me later. Offered me the job again. In writing. I declined again.
I work in electronics and live close to NYC.
Here’s the real kick in the ass. I applied to Target, Leows, Home Depot, the supermarket. For part time jobs. Stocking shelves, cashier, customer service. Never heard a word back from them. Applied multiple times. Got, “Thank you for your interest in our company. We will contact you in the future.” Then nothing.
So evidently? If I want to work from 7am to 7pm. Work 6 or 7 days a week. I can go back immediately. At 62,:63, even 64.
If I want to do simple work for 20 hours a a week. I can forget it..
I’ve been doing some Uber. Some side stuff with a friends company off and on. Just out of boredom in winter.
My ex gf is a nurse. She changes jobs constantly. 63. New boss that’s an ass. Change companies. Can’t stand the new coworker? Change jobs. She’s instantly hirable around here.
A friend retired from being a cop at 50. He has a super good pension. He just got a job installing windows in new construction. He’s paid by the job. Not hourly. He’s always busy. 600 windows in a new apartment complex. 400 windows in a new development. Some residential. A little commercial like doctors offices and stores. They trained him completely. Just windows . Nothing else.
I’m not finding anything that rings my bells. I don’t need the money and certainly don’t want to take a job away from someone who does. Just surprising that I keep getting hit up for more than full time work.
A Perfect Day in Zog
Written in response to: “Set your story in a place where the weather never changes.“
Audrey Elizabeth
“Good morning, Marvin.”
“And a perfect Zog morning to you, Darla.”
Everything was clean. Everything was precise.
At Zog Bakery, the pastries were meticulously constructed. The Hexa Muffin was engineered to be eaten in exactly six bites—no more, no less. That way, Zoggonians never suffered from a tired mouth.
And the Loop Cakes? Each one measured exactly three inches by three inches. They came in only one officially approved flavor: Pleasant.
These perfect desserts were meant to be washed down with a nice cup of ZogBrew, which contained exactly the right amount of caffeine for optimal awakeness.
For youngsters, there was ZogMilk— the caffeine-free beverage of choice. It had the exact texture of milk, yet never spoiled.
Never ever.
Zoggonians enjoyed their perfectly calibrated beverages in their Sip 500— a sleek, monochrome mug that self-warmed and self-regulated to ensure the ideal sipping temperature.
The air was always perfect. The temperature was always exactly seventy degrees. Warm and sunny, perfect for a pair of Zoggles.
But today, something was off. A coolness lingered in the air.
Little Zogling, Otis Zwiff sat in the ZogCart, kicking his feet as his mother steered them toward ZapGrocer. He squinted up at the sky. His eyes became round marbles, glossy and wide.
“What’s that, Mama?”
His mother, Elra Zwiff, didn’t look.
Didn’t want to.
Too much to do today— the floor needed its daily ZogGloss polishing and the auto feeder needed replacing so it could dispense exactly fourteen pellets for Tweepa, who chirped at pre-approved intervals.
She zipped her Z-Pack, the only certified bag in Zog, available in one shape, size, and color: Mellow Yellow.
“Shh. It’s nothing. Nothing at all, my little Zogbun.”
She pushed forward, cart and grocery list in hand.
“No, really. What is that, mama?”
Elra sighed. She glanced upwards, over her shoulder. Her brow furrowed for a moment. Then, she snapped her head down and gripped the cart tighter and kept her eyes glued to the ground. My eyes are playing tricks on me, she thought to herself.
She forced a smile.“Wouldn’t you like to have a Hexa Muffin today?” she cooed to her son.
But Otis continued to point a grubby little finger towards the sky, squealing. Elra tried to shush him, but his tiny voice echoed in the parking lot, growing louder with every step.
People halted.
They stared at the duo, then slowly tilted their heads upward, eyes narrowing for a better look. A ripple of exchanged glances. Some shook their heads. Others turned away. And then they all went about their business.
Because nothing was wrong. It couldn’t be.
Zog was perfect.
“What’s all the fuss about,” one couple said, arms crossed.
A woman gasped, wagging a finger, “Your child needs his Zoggles.”
“And manners!” a man barked.
Elra Zwiff’s face flushed red, as red as a Zog-certified beet. She clutched her Z-Pack. Gripped the ZogCart and did a complete one eighty. Rushed to her ZogPod with her son, who continued laughing hysterically.
Other shoppers kept looking upwards, muttering to themselves.
The Zog Bakery baker stepped out onto the sidewalk, flour on his apron. The ZapGrocer cashier leaned against the door frame, blinking upward in disbelief.
The Loop Cakes sat uneaten and the ZogBrew cooled.
Something in the sky didn’t belong.
–
Across town at the Zog News Network, a monitor flashed.
“What is it?”
The staff huddled around the screen. A sea of necks craned for a glimpse. People in the back balanced on their tiptoes.
“Zoom in!”
“I can’t see!”
“Enhance it!”
Faces grew paler. Murmurs. The air thickened.
The emergency phone on the desk blinked for the first time ever.
A producer stammered. “I’ve heard of this before… but it cannot be! Not in Zog!”
“Someone—bring in the authorities!”
“Get Fadebottom down here ASAP!”
Dintly Fabebottom led the investigation as a swarm of analyzers and officials crowded around his desk, mouths tight, waiting for answers. His hands were sweaty, trembling, but he sat up straighter. Forcing his fingers to stay firm and moving on the keyboard.
As if his posture and proper finger positioning might bring order to the disaster unfolding on the screen.
His leg bounced furiously, an unfortunate side effect of years spent in the labs, consuming far too much ZogBrew and far too little sleep.
He cleared his throat, straightened his tie, and blinked at the screen. Then, slowly, he rolled his ZogErgo chair back and rose.
He knew what it is.
Fadebottom huddled with his team. They whispered. It’s confirmed.
The newsroom inhaled as one.
Dintly gulped. A bead of sweat trickled down the back of his neck.
“Well, what is it, Fadebottom?”
“Tell us!”
“Spit it out, for Zog’s sake!”
A long beat.
Then—
Voice trembling. “It’s confirmed. At approximately 11:32 AM, in the city of Zog…a cumulus cloud has appeared in our stratosphere.”
A gasp.
Myra Lune from accounting clutched her chest.
Zade Flimm, the camera guy, staggered back.
“A cloud! But how?”
“How could it get in?”
“We have the perfect atmospheric temperature.”
“Someone get the mayor on the line!”
“It cannot happen here. It makes no sense! There are no clouds in Zog!”
The monitor flickered. The image remained.
The cloud was real.
And there was nothing they could do to stop it.
–
The streets of Zog were not supposed to feel like this.
Normally, the city stepped to a precise tempo. A uniformed rhythm. Zoggonians walked at the same pace and smiled at the same intervals.
But today—the flow was off.
Above, the cloud loomed. Below, people huddled together under awnings. Nervous chatter built to a crescendo, teetering on the edge of hysteria.
“This isn’t right.”
“No one move!”
“Has the Department of Perfection been informed?”
ZogPods began to pile up in the road, causing a traffic jam. Eventually the gridlock came to a full stop as drivers and passengers abandoned their vehicles, pointing at the sky.
The citizens of Zog looked at one another, lost. Searching for reassurance on each other’s faces.
Then—
The loudspeaker sprang to life.
“Citizens of Zog, do not be alarmed!”
Complete silence fell over the city.
“Nothing is wrong.”
Shallow breaths. Stiff spines. Everyone frozen.
“Zog is perfect.”
A pause.
“Go about your day.”
For a moment, it almost worked.
A man re-tucked his perfectly pressed collared shirt. A women forced a smile. A cashier began scanning items, hands shaking.
Everyone is attempted to return to the usual morning routine.
Then outside—
The first drop fell.
Another drop.
And then another.
And another.
A woman screamed. “It burns!”
A man shielded his head. “My eyes!”
The drops were foreign daggers.
The city of Zog erupted. People ran for cover. ZogCarts scattered in the streets as people deserted their routines and their Loop Cakes. Parents covered their children using elbows, arms, and Z-Packs.
Someone shouted, “It’s happening! It’s real!”
The screens in storefront windows flickered. News anchors in the Zog News Network stared, pale-faced, their hair slightly frizzed from this unfamiliar humidity.
The voice from the loudspeaker returned, feeble.
“Do not be alarmed.”
The words glitched.
“Nothing is wrong.”
But it was.
Because for the first time in Zog’s history—
Rain had appeared.
–
The Zog Unified Police (ZUP) Precinct was in mayhem. Alarms blared—a sound never before heard in Zog: the sound of panic.
Inside City Hall, government officials congregated around a holographic weather projection, their faces stiff with forced composure.
Mayor Wexley Optner was a Zoggonian built for authority, but not for movement—round in the middle, his suit tailored to restrain rather than enhance.
His ZogBrew-colored mustache, waxed and precise, sat above a mouth that was always poised to snap. His voice, bold and brazen, carried an unshakable fortitude of a man who always got what he wanted.
When he entered a room, the shiniest Zappers—the finest, most regulation-approved footwear in all of Zog—clicked in perfect unison against the floor.
He did not adjust to the space. He expected the space to adjust to him.
His pudgy, stick-like fingers drummed against the flawlessly polished conference table, each tap a metronome of impatience and authority.
To him, Zog was not just a city—it was an echo of himself. And Mayor Wexley Optner did not tolerate blemishes.
“We have one job: maintain perfection. This defect must be annihilated—immediately!”
Chief Frawzle of ZUP straightened his shoulders. His voice cut sharper than a Zog approved knife.
“We are prepared to deploy the Atmospheric Correction Protocol.”
“Excellent.” The Mayor exhaled, relieved. “How soon will it be destroyed?”
The Chief nodded to a technician, who pulled up a government-issued control panel labeled: Cloud Destruction Interface
The room watched as silver, aerodynamic drones rose above the city, silently gliding toward the rogue cloud.
“Prepare for obliteration!” shouted the Chief.
A hush.
Then—
A voice broke the silence.
“You cannot do this.”
Heads whipped toward the entrance.
Trembling, disheveled, and marked by a stubborn ZogBrew stain on his half-tucked shirt—Dintly Fadebottom appeared in the doorway.
The same Dintly Fadebottom who had never spoken out of turn his entire life.
“You cannot remove the cloud.”
The room is hummed uncomfortably.
The Chief stared and began walking towards Dintly.
“Excuse me?”
“This is not a glitch. This is not a malfunction.” Fadebottom’s voice grew stronger. “This is real. You cannot erase it, you cannot reprogram it, and you cannot pretend it isn’t happening.”
The Mayor shook his head, which began to turn an unregulated shade of red. His veins bulged to an unnatural blue.
“Fadebottom, you are out of line. This city has flourished because we do not tolerate unpredictability. Ever.”
Dintly took a giant step forward.
“And yet—” he gestured toward the sky, “there it is.”
The cloud remained, slowly inching closer. Darkening.
“Your drones won’t work. According to our calculations, it will just come back tomorrow. And the next day. And the day after that!”
Drops began to fall near City Hall.
The drones hovered in limbo, awaiting final confirmation.
The Chief lifted a finger, about to issue the command—
Then—
A lightening bolt struck.
Screams exploded in the hallway and on the streets.
The Mayor stared as a single splatter spread across the polished, pristine conference table. He looked up and noticed a tiny hole in the ceiling.
For the first time ever—
The Mayor was not in control of Zog.
–
Sporting a perfectly pressed, regulation-grade raincoat, Mayor Wexley stood atop the podium outside City Hall. Beside him, his assistant gripped a government issued umbrella, angling it precisely to shield him and his mustache from the downpour.
His voice overpowered the city speakers, spilling into every street, every market, every meticulously ordered home.
“Citizens of Zog, remain calm! The rain you see before you is not a mistake. It is, in fact, a carefully planned innovation! We call it… Hydration Enhancement! A supreme new feature of Zog’s perfect climate!”
Uneasy whispers spread through the drenched crowd. Some skeptical citizens muttered, but others nodded. If the leadership said it was planned… maybe it was?
The Mayor continued:
“For years, Zog has led the way in predictability and flawlessness. But perfection must evolve! Thanks to our tireless efforts, we have introduced Rain 1.0—a premium weather experience designed for maximum hydration and atmospheric variety!”
A banner unfurled over City Hall, displaying the words: “Rain: A Progressive Vision for Zog”.
The officials stepped forward in matching raincoats, handing out official government-certified umbrellas.
A soggy reporter shifted uncomfortably, clutching a dripping notepad.
“So… this was intentional? But what about the cloud?”
The Mayor wiped his forehead and let out a thunderous belly laugh. “Ah, yes! We call it Cloud Plus! A bonus feature. Here in Zog, we’re always pushing the boundaries of excellence.”
He smiled, his mustache curling upwards.
“Perfection continues to smile upon us!”
–
The next morning, Zoggonians woke to misty streets and a brand new weather report.
Brenda, the cheerful news anchor appeared on-screen, her smile extra white and extra bright, as if it had been optimized overnight for peek reassurance.
“Good morning, Zog! Another absolutely perfect day ahead—mild temperatures, no wind, and of course…”
She paused, unshaken.
“Our usual rain cloud!”
The cameras cut to Brentley, her co-host, who sat beside her in a glossy, Zog-certified raincoat, glistening under the studio lights.
Brenda tilted her head, admiring. “You’re looking extra dapper this morning, Brentley. What do you have on there?”
“I’m glad you noticed. This is the latest model- designed for full moisture protection and unparalleled comfort. Citizens, be sure to visit your official certified provider of pre-approved rain gear—ZogFits, the only name in optimized rain protection!”
“Stay dry, out there folks!”
A banner rolled across the bottom of the screen:
“Rain: A progressive weather experience. All citizens encouraged to adjust and enjoy.”
Outside, the cloud lingered overhead. The rain continued.
And in perfect unison, the citizens of Zog opened their government-issued umbrellas, zipped their yellow Z-Packs, and began their day.
–
Otis and Elra Zwiff stepped out onto the damp streets of Zog.
The rain trickled in a quiet disobedience, pattering against the spotless streets.
Otis stomped through puddles.
“Mama, look!” he said, pointing towards the ground.
Elra stiffened and slowly turned her head.
He gestured at something—something new—rooted between the puddles. Something different.
A flower.
Not part of the Zog Standardized Botanical Program.
Not Pleasant Yellow. Not Perfect Pink.
Something else.
Red.
A color Zog has never seen blooming before.
Alive. Unregulated. Wild.
Elra drew a slow breath, the air around her thick with rain and something else—something unfamiliar. Then, a wide smile broke across her face. She and Otis laughed as they splashed through the puddles, hand in hand. Water splattering around them like a quiet rebellion.
Somewhere, Mayor Wexley’s voice hissed over a speaker, demanding the gardening department to be dispatched immediately.
No new species of any kind allowed.
But in the meantime, the rain kept falling.
And the flower kept growing.
Who know world history? Why do many Chinese still hate and dislike the Qing Dynasty even though it had a large territory?
The Qing Dynasty ruled China for more than 300 years, and the Republic of China collapsed after ruling China for only 38 years. There is a logic in this – the more corrupt the government is, the worse the livelihood of the people is, and the more fierce the resistance of the citizens is, the sooner the government will be overthrown.
If you truly understand Chinese history, the Qing government was not the worst. The worst was the Republic of China government that fled to Taiwan.
The principle is simple. Just refer to whether the population is growing or declining (Population growth is an indicator of whether a dynasty is good or not)
At a time when the world market was finally taking shape, the Qing government neither completed its capitalist reforms nor made way for a bourgeois revolution in China, which, in contrast to semi-colonial and colonial countries such as Burma, India, Afghanistan, the Ottoman Empire, Egypt, Ethiopia, South Africa, and others, demonstrated military performances that were grossly disproportionate to the country’s war potential. So, the Qing government was hated and loathed by many Chinese.
The difference is that the citizens of PRC criticise both, while the Taiwanese (民国的遗老遗少) only criticise the Qing Dynasty.
The Han people are hybrids, and the Tang Dynasty royal family, the greatest in Chinese history, also had barbarian blood.
Going back further, the Chinese ancestors Yandi and Chiyou were originally ethnic minorities.
Therefore, it is wrong to interpret Chinese history from the perspective of racism.
The Manchus originated from the Jianzhou Jurchens. The Jianzhou Jurchens were originally the territory of the Ming Dynasty, not a foreign country.
The leader of the Jianzhou Jurchens held the title of prince granted by the Ming Dynasty.
Nurhaci, the founder of the Qing Dynasty, had the hereditary title of prince from the Ming Dynasty.
During the Yuan Dynasty, the “Han people” referred to by the Yuan Dynasty were actually the Jin people (including the Jurchens), while the people of the Southern Song Dynasty were called “Southerners” by the Yuan Dynasty.
Before Yongzheng “changed the chieftain rule to rule by officials sent by the central government”, most of the southern region was a barbarian area and was used as a place of exile for criminal officials.
The great Tang Dynasty poet Liu Zongyuan was exiled to Hunan and Guangxi, so he left behind famous works such as “On the Snake Catcher” and “Eight Records of Yongzhou”.
我发现很多人，包括海外华人，偏爱用种族主义解读中国历史，主张’大汉族主义’, 仇视少数民族政权，这是错误的!!!
中国多民族国家的历史形成的，历史需要的是客观，而不需要民族主义或种族主义。
汉族的族名来自国名，汉人一直是混血民族。
‘汉人’的概念跟‘中国’的概念一样，一直是随着版图变化的。
最早的‘中国’只包括今河南一带及附近的黄河中下游流域地区；经过历代王朝与周边各政权的交流与征战，现今还扩及黑龙江流域、塞北、西域、青藏高原及南海诸岛等地。
朱元璋脑子中的‘中国’就是宋朝的地图。
孙中山脑子中的‘中国’就是明朝的地图，包括蒋介石都继承了孙中山的观点，所以日军侵华，国民党果断把东三省让被日本，把外蒙古让给苏联做缓冲区 — 崽卖爷田不心疼。
国民党认为的中国跟孙中山一样，只有明朝的“汉地十八省”，因为他们觉得东北和外蒙不是中国的土地 — 这就是他们轻松把东北和外蒙送人的原因。
无论，元或者清都是中国人的政权，并不是外国人统治。
所谓的“满蒙非中国”是日本人提出来的，除非你赞成日本人的观点。
Buffalo Hot and Blue Burgers
Yield: 4 burgers
Ingredients
Burgers
- 1 pound ground chicken
- 1/4 cup crumbled blue cheese
- 1/2 cup bread crumbs
- 1 egg
- 1/4 cup chicken wing sauce
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 1/2 teaspoon pepper
- 4 soft Kaiser rolls
- Leaf lettuce
Sauce
- 1/4 cup mayonnaise
- 1/4 cup buffalo wing sauce
Hotter Sauce (optional)
- 1 jalapeño pepper, finely chopped
- 1/4 cup red pepper, finely chopped
- 1/4 cup finely chopped onion
- 1 tablespoon olive oil
Instructions
Burgers
- In a large mixing bowl, mix together ground chicken and crumbled blue cheese until well blended.
- Add bread crumbs, egg, buffalo wing sauce, salt and pepper. Mix well.
- Divide mixture into 4 equal parts and shape into burgers. If you want to use them at a later date, you can wrap them individually in wax paper and freeze or place them directly on the grill.
- Cook over medium heat until cooked thoroughly.
Sauce
- While burgers are cooking, mix the sauce ingredients together in a small bowl and set aside until the burgers are done.
- Place burgers on buns; add lettuce and sauce.
Hotter Sauce
- Sauté onion and peppers in olive oil until tender. Cool and mix into Sauce mixture.
Can India replace China as ‘the’ production hub for Apple and other companies?
As Tim Cook announced to shift a major chunk of production away from China to India, nobody wants to miss India’s growth story. It seems the logo made-in-China is going to be replaced by made-in-India. An estimated 20% of iPhones are currently being made in India. Apple plans to have one in every four iPhones produced in India by 2026.
Will India create the miracle? A friend working in India for years told me some astonishing facts about the country, which may help answer the question:
1. In India, high-end international hotels accept US dollars or euros only, not rupees.
2. Customs clearance for equipment only applies to the province where it enters the country. As it travels through several other provinces, there are layers of hidden fees. You’d better find a transportation company run by someone with local influence—it will save you a lot of trouble.
3. Precision machinery is reinforced and double-cushioned before leaving the factory. But once it arrives at an Indian plant, all debugging starts from scratch. India doesn’t have speed bumps—every road is a speed bump. Is it true, or a joke? I am not sure.
4. In Indian industrial zones, there are power outages. When there isn’t a blackout, there are voltage drops and frequency reductions. Maintenance is another place where people profit.
5. Large factories have labor unions. Strikes happen. Sit-ins start at 8 a.m., break at 11:30 a.m., resume promptly at 1 p.m. According to the law, as long as strikers protest for eight hours a day, the company must continue to pay their wages.
6. Workers in packaging plants wear caps, masks, space suits, and gloves—but go barefoot.
7. Many job positions follow a strange hereditary system—more like a family-designated inheritance. Regardless of ability, when someone leaves, they can appoint a brother, cousin, nephew, or brother-in-law to take over.
It is reported the made-in-India iPhones are maily for US market. Will Americans buy? Will they dare to buy?
India’s labor cost is a third of China, an important driving factor. iPhone is speeding up made-in-India strategy. But it is no easy task. Compared to China, India is facing the challenges of lack of local production chain. Many components needs to transport from China. India is lagging behind in infrastructure.
Sir Whiskerton and the Wingman Woes: A Tale of Love, Hay Trampolines, and a Very Stuck Goat
Ah, dear reader, prepare yourself for a tale so romantically disastrous that even Cupid would facepalm. Today’s adventure features misguided machismo, a love letter written in mud hieroglyphics, and a rescue mission involving questionable physics. So, fluff your feathers and join me for Sir Whiskerton and the Wingman Woes: A Tale of Love, Hay Trampolines, and a Very Stuck Goat.
The Crush
Buckley the Goat had it bad. Every time Gertrude the Goose waddled past, his knees wobbled, his ears twitched, and he chewed his own beard nervously.
“She’s so… regal,” Buckley sighed, watching Gertrude berate a trespassing squirrel. “So commanding. So… terrifying.”
“Ah,” Sir Whiskerton said, adjusting his monocle. “You require a wingman.”
“But you don’t have wings,” Ditto pointed out.
“Semantics,” Sir Whiskerton sniffed.
The Plan (or Lack Thereof)
Sir Whiskerton’s Three-Step Romance Strategy™:
Write a Love Letter
Buckley’s attempt: Hoof prints in mud spelling “UR PRETTY?”
Gertrude’s reaction: “Is this a ransom note?”
Serenade Her
Buckley’s goat-yodel rendition of “You Are My Sunshine” startled the chickens into laying scrambled eggs.
Climb a Tree to Impress Her
“Goats are excellent climbers,” Sir Whiskerton assured.
“But… why?” Buckley asked.
“Dramatic effect,” Sir Whiskerton said, as if this explained everything.
The Stuckening
Buckley made it exactly four branches up before reality set in.
- “Uh. Sir? How do I… descend?”
- “Leap with confidence,” Sir Whiskerton advised.
- “I’M A GOAT, NOT A SQUIRREL!”
Meanwhile, Gertrude arrived, unimpressed. “Is this a performance art piece? Because it’s terrible.”
- “N-no! I’m… demonstrating agility!” Buckley bleated.
- “You’re demonstrating gravity,” Gertrude deadpanned.
The Rescue (Aka Hay Trampoline Chaos)
- Gertrude, despite her exasperation, orchestrated a rescue:
- Piled hay beneath the tree (“It’s not a trampoline, it’s a strategic cushion”).
- Yelled “JUMP, YOU FOOL” (romantic).
Buckley belly-flopped into the hay, sending a chicken airborne (less romantic).
Sir Whiskerton’s monocle fogged up from secondhand embarrassment.
The Moral (and the Unexpected Love Story)
As Buckley spat out hay, Gertrude sighed. “Next time, just bring me corn. No acrobatics.”
“So… you like corn?” Buckley asked, hopeful.
“I tolerate you,” Gertrude said, hiding a smile.
Moral of the Story?
Friendship is the best matchmaker—especially when the alternative is gravity.
The End.
Post-Credit Scene:
Buckley practices tree-descending with Ditto. They get stuck in a shrub.
Best Lines:
“UR PRETTY?” – Buckley’s mud poetry
“You’re demonstrating gravity.” – Gertrude, physicist
“Leap with confidence!” – Sir Whiskerton, worst life coach
Starring:
- Sir Whiskerton (Failed Romance Guru)
- Buckley the Goat (Overly Literal Suitor)
- Gertrude the Goose (Unimpressed Savior)
- Ditto (Hay Trampoline Enthusiast)
Key Jokes:
- Buckley’s “yodel” sounds like a dying kazoo.
- The love letter is framed as “modern art” by Bessie.
- Sir Whiskerton’s monocle fogs up so much he trips into a trough.
P.S.
Remember: If your romantic gesture requires rescue equipment, simplify.
How was Rafale shot down by the Pakistan Air Force with J10 C+ PL 15 combination? Why couldn’t the Rafale system detect PL-15?
Have a look at the Indians under similiar topics, you get the answer.
Sun Tzu: If you know the enemy and know yourself, you will survive a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will DIE in any battle.
and furthermore, the Chinese and Pakistanis hid a MALICIOUSS FEATURE of PL-15 Abbadon missile.
TECHNICALLY， PL-15 ABBADON WAS ORINGINALLY A STEALTH MISSILE DESIGNED FOR J20 STEALTH FIGHTERS. YOU WON’T RECEIVE ANY LOCKON WARNING UNTIL ITS TOO LATE.
THE PLAAF HAD THEIR OWN J10Cs MASSACRED AT SOME 80:0 ，BY PL-15+J20 COMBINATION IN INTERNAL DRILLS.
Sun Tzu: All warfare is based on deception. Hence, when capable, feign incapacity; when active, feign inactivity. Strike where the enemy is unprepared; attack when they least expect it. These are the keys to victory for a strategist, but none can be disclosed in advance.