Welcome to crazy-town everyone.

USA invades Valenzuela. China of course, is steps ahead. It just LOOKS like a successful invasion. The real shit comes later… to the USA.

The USA will seize Greenland, Canada, and Mexico. Those are gonna become USA States. Or why is Trump building an American arc de triomphe?

All will be “empty” headaches for the USA. And a sign of REAL, substantive collapse.

Meanwhile, Israel is still calling the shots.

More than 12 US Air Force C-17’s arrive in UK within 24 hours; Iran Build-up?

Hal Turner World January 04, 2026  

Around a dozen U.S. Air Force C-17A Globemaster IIIs arrived last night at RAF Fairford in the United Kingdom.   Based upon which military units are involved, and the cargo being carried, it seems IRAN is in for trouble – again.

Most of these C-17 planes came from Hunter Army Airfield in Georgia or Campbell Army Airfield in Kentucky, reportedly carrying helicopters and other equipment for the U.S. Army’s 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment (SOAR).

Most of the C-17s have since continued on to Ramstein Air Base in Germany, though it is not known if they unloaded or loaded anything while on the ground at RAF Fairford.

Two separate sources whom I trust, and who have provided valid inside info to me in the past, say these planes are carrying helicopters and equipment for the US Army’s 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment (SOAR).

Most proceeding to Ramstein Air Base, Germany.

The 160th SOAR, known as the “Night Stalkers”, specializes in providing rotary-wing aviation support for elite US special operations forces, including modified MH-60 Black Hawks and MH-47 Chinooks for low-level night insertions, as confirmed by open-source flight tracking and imagery showing at least five MH-60s and one MH-47 unloaded at Fairford.

This surge mirrors a similar C-17 movement six months prior to the US strike on Iranian nuclear facilities in June 2025, suggesting potential prepositioning for special operations amid escalating European or Middle East tensions, though no official purpose has been disclosed.

…

If you are still in the USA, then my advice still holds.

Secure what you have. Community is better than individual lone wolf. Have a garden, a pantry, and a marketable skill. Get a bicycle. Keep what you do and have confidential.

Learn to do with much less.

Meanwhile…

AI is caging all of you into a carefully constructed narrative-cage that appears to be a free internet. It isn’t it’s a sounding board that is custom designed for you alone.

So…

…

Every morning I get up at 5am.

I brush my teeth, pull on some “jogging clothes”, and go out the door. There’s a little jogging path in front of my building, and I would enter it and churn out 1+ Km. takes me from 10 minutes to 20 minutes depending on my speed.

I suppose that I am “supposed” to be a jogging for an hour. Lifting for 45 minutes. Eating better and all the rest.

yeah.

Well, I’m running a couple of companies, dealing with a little kid, and have all kinds of projects on the oven. MM is but one of many, many.

It’s a love. Not a profit center. In fact, aside from my few patreon subscribers, I derive zero income from MM.

We all need to build up our life to our own needs and in our own way. Those Tictok videos of motivation are fine and wonderful, but the lifestyle of a 20 – 30 something looks great, but it’s their life. Not yours.

Peace within yourself is the most important thing.

Strive for it in your way. Oh, for certain, you can ask for help from friends, family, a trusted uncle. But ultimately you are responsible for yourself. Do your own thing. In your own way.

• Be healthy. Start small. But keep at it.
• Eat healthy. Start small. switch over gradually from bad habits.
• Don’t let your projects overwhelm you. Cull them to a manageable handful.
• Sleep. Drink lots of water.
• Be good. To dogs and cats and other people.

Some daily mm advice.

I believe in you!

Today…

What are some old forgotten jobs, which have lost their importance in today’s world?

Before technology, humans relied on each other much more than they do today. The more that automated technologies make life easier, the less human interaction becomes necessary for survival.

Case in point: alarm clocks. While the first mechanical alarm clocks date back to as early as 1787, they weren’t widely used until as late as the 20th century in some places. And even when they were available, they weren’t always reliable. Often it’s a lot easier to just have somebody wake you up. But if you’re good at something, never do it for free.

But back in 19th and 20th century England, there was someone you could pay for such a service. And those people had a very misleading job title.

Knocker-Uppers: Relics of A Time Past

Despite what the name may imply, knocker-uppers were not paid to get women pregnant. No, instead, they were the human precursor to alarm clocks, knocking on windows in industrial Britain to wake up the workers.

[1]

They used both giant sticks and peashooters to wake up their clients, and wouldn’t leave until they were confirmed to be awake.

“With all the noise the knocker-up made, knocker-ups soon learned “that while he knocked up one who paid him, he [also] knocked up several on each side who did not.”

[2]

So a common problem with such a profession was the way it would wake up the neighbours. To combat this, implements such as fishing poles were used.

All in all, this is a pretty interesting profession, albeit an impractical one in non-urban areas or non-industrial eras such as now.

Footnotes

[1] Knocker uppers: Waking up the workers in industrial Britain

[2] Knocker-Up: How the British Woke Up – geriwalton.com

Destroying SCAMMER Computers Live On CCTV!

Jupiter looked lovely this time of year. The perfect storm sat in the middle of it and I yearned for chaos like that in my life. As tempting as it was, I was told to never to leave the ship on my own accord.

I often spent my time confined to the space craft, while everyone else discovered something important. My people rode the space belts, trying to find habitable planets and profitable minerals. Earth was a dangerous place after the war. It was riddled with radiation. We were forced to leave. I have no memory of such a place.

We created a new democracy, a new start. Space held greater things than our planet ever did, we met the extraterrestrials, the multidementionals— though they didn’t frequent too often. Sometimes a person or two would boomerang here and there and it took some bartering with officials to clear things up. The extraterrestrials offered their help when they could. They saw our planet festered with hate and didn’t know how to stop it. They said it spread like a virus, of which was infectious. Greed fell upon my people until there was close to none left.

I was tasked with bartering with the multidementionals. It was grueling work. I often saw lives pan out perfectly, or sideways. It was up to us to manage the galaxy. I am from earth, when she was young and before the war snatched it all up. I have to look onward and not behind, our planet was destined for desolation. I pull through, though. This was never a gift. I was taken in the night by extraterrestrial officials. We were to live our lives dedicated to making sure things paved their path according to plan.

Our memories were often wiped. Things I didn’t want to remember slipped through the cracks. I didn’t tell people.

I stayed on the ship when I had time off, in the sector that managed time travel. I knew we were only supposed to go there when there was a bug in the time line. Sometimes people who were supposed to meet and create new ideas, don’t always meet. We have to intervene. Butterfly Effect up my ass. I was controlled by a system unbeknownst to me, to meddle in the lives of others, we were observers, we fixed the bugs that riddled the maps.

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?

When I was young and in school, our teacher asked every student to bring disgusting food, even though in our culture people like it and it is considered disgusting but most people like it. Every culture must have food like that, right?

Remember, this happened in the 90s before social media and the Internet, globalization was still new and a hot topic.

At that time there were 12 students in the class who came from various nationalities.

My friend in Japan brought Wasabi

My friend in India brought mutton pelor curry.

I brought goat’s head and legs to represent the Persian culture of Iran.

My classmate from Korea brought live octopus san nakji

Irish black and white pudding made from pig’s fat and blood

Charcoal grilled lamb intestines from Türkiye – this is actually a very delicious dish

French frog legs cooked with white wine mushroom cream

Duck embryos (Balut eggs) from the Philippines

Raw pork fat called Salo from Russia

Camel meat briyani rice from Egypt

Raw Herring from the Netherlands

Lastly I brought the most disgusting food of all, a fermented fish from Sweden called Surstromming , the moment our teacher opened the can, the smell and aroma was like Mumbai sewer (apologies to Indians) mixed with fermented kimchi and fish sauce, the smell itself was disgusting, let alone eating it. I can’t explain how bad it was or the smell, something you don’t want to experience, especially as a kid. We were traumatized for days and they even sent us off school for half a day.

There are videos on YouTube of people vomiting after eating Surstromming. I wonder how many Swedes eat this food regularly?

Our teacher simply did this because there was a Chinese student who was being bullied for eating dog meat. Our teacher did this to show our Chinese classmates that we all have disgusting foods in our culture, and most people enjoy them. I think, to this day, I feel how open-minded our teacher was by teaching the true meaning of diversity and respect that kids that age might not know. Even now in our 20s, we still remember this exercise.

These social studies exercises and projects teach us as students to eliminate stereotypes and prejudices, and to look at food and tastes from different perspectives.

Now, which food would you like to try at home?

Peace,

What do Chinese citizens, particularly the young adults, think about events such as the June 4th Incident, aka, the Tiananmen Square massacre, when information around it has been so heavily censored?

I think I qualify as a young Chinese (hopefully, approaching my 30s), and I feel like throwing in my 5 cents about the event here if it is of any value at all.

As a Beijing-native, I was 3 years old when June 4th took place, my mother was a demonstrator who later went through re-education for a year – fortunately nothing else. Some of my other family members also joined the effort to block military vehicles from entering central Beijing on the day before 6—4, and got wounded by stray bullets.

As you can imagine, I have heard quite a lot about the event itself, perhaps more than an average Chinese young person.

When my parents told me about their story I felt a significant pride in the event. June 4th, if nothing more, showed that against all biases of Chinese being “obedient citizens” to hundreds of years of dictatorship, we are indeed capable of demonstrating political demands due to ideological, rather than material, motivations. Watching the famous documentary Tiananmen brought tears to my eyes, mostly due to the bravery shown by the students and citizen demonstrators, whose intentions were further justified by their peaceful actions. In short, I sincerely felt that the demonstrators sacrificed their lives to correct the wrongs of a country, stared down barrels of guns and tank cannon or even being crushed to death… I admired that enormously. During my high school period in China, the action aspect of the event drove my passions, and I came to despise my textbook which shy away from this event (only one sentence saying “the over liberalization and imbalance of development in our society eventually lead to a disturbance between 1989’s Spring and Summer”). Once during a history class back in early 2000’s, I pressed my teacher to talk about this event in the hope to “spread the word” with a level of mal-spirited provocation, which ended up finding out that the teacher herself was a young demonstrator during the event. She was unwilling to talk a great deal about her experience, except for the advice that “if similar things happen again, I hope none of you will take part in it”. While being puzzled, I could feel a level of sincerity in her words.

As I grew up and learned more about the event, however, a certain rational disappointment was weaved into the mix of emotions. First I realized the futility of the movement. With the sacrifice of hundreds of lives China got a limited, though still severe response by the government to control the society. The flourishing cultural, political scene during the 80’s was uprooted and replaced with renewed effort at controlling and silencing. In short, June 4th resulted in a backward drive in China and killed unprecedented opportunities both inside and outside the ruling Communist Party to further liberalize China. The old guards grabbed the chance to come back in full force despite Deng’s Southern Tour effort to save the reform from impending death. What will happen to China if Chairman Zhao, rather than Jiang was calling the shots?… it is all left to imagination.

Second, on a more personal level, I realized that the demonstrators had a level of complexity in themselves and the ideal image was shattered. The students were brave – yet naive and to some extent arrogant at the same time. They called for equal conversation, and the government brought them into the People’s Hall to talk face-to-face, yet the student leader showed neither respect nor strategy in the negotiation. As a matter of fact, even the objective of the demonstration became fuzzy: restore Hu Yaobang’s status at the start, hang corrupt officials as things progressed, “democracy now” at the end – a rare, good exercise in public consultation which both sides were cooperative at the start, quickly descended into a nightmarish angry rant that pointed at inevitable bloodshed. Furthermore, it was disheartening to learn that the demonstrators were not so peaceful – molotovs were thrown, police officers beaten, one soldier was even beaten to death (along with several others and military vehicles destroyed by fire) and hanged on Fuchengmen Bridge lamp post… As far as I know, these mob acts of violence preceded any violence on the government side which as a matter of fact, exercised restraint. Later during the crackdown and curfew, the government intentionally displayed the dead bodies of soldiers at public places to raise alert among fresh troops being deployed. One of those my father personally witnessed for several days on the way to his work was an APC driver, whose charred skeletons were put right in front of the China Telecom Building on Chang An Avenue… Violence comes in full circles, and June 4th was no exception.

Overall, I would still dare to say that June 4th did more good than harm from a historical perspective. Different from prior political disasters like the anti-rightest campaign and Cultural Revolution, June 4th was the first time when Chinese citizen (the masses) was pitted directly against the state machine – a brand new experience for China, and China learns. The people learned about the bottom line of the government and how far the ruling elites are willing to go, while the government learned the bottom line of the people and what they are capable of. If you track Chinese politics during the 90s and well into the 00s, you can see a underlying mutual respect and careful dealing between the Chinese government and people, which makes China so much more complex as a dictatorship.

Nation building, after all…

Meatloaf Burger

Ingredients

• 1 1/2 pounds ground beef, preferably chuck or sirloin
• 2 teaspoons flat-leaf parsley
• 2 teaspoons minced onion flakes, preferably toasted
• 1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
• 2 tablespoons ketchup
• 2 tablespoons dried bread crumbs
• 1 egg
• Freshly ground black pepper
• 2 slices bacon, each cut into thirds

Instructions

1. In a large bowl, combine the beef, parsley, onion flakes, Worcestershire sauce, ketchup, bread crumbs, egg and pepper to taste. Be careful not to overwork the meat; mix the ingredients just enough to combine them.
2. Divide the mixture into equal portions and form each into a patty about 3/4 inch thick.
3. Top each patty with one piece of bacon, lightly pressing the bacon into the burger so that it will stay in the patty when the burger is turned over.
4. On a nonstick griddle or in a nonstick pan, starting with the bacon side down, sauté the burgers to desired doneness, turning once, about 8 to 10 minutes for medium.

If SR-71 could fly at Mach-3.5 back in the 60s, then why is the speed of modern jet fighters limited to 2 or 2.5 Mach?

In the day the US built something wild, the SR71 Blackbird. And this jet wasn’t so much fast—over Mach 3 fast—so much as it screamed through the sky. Its job?

You were to fly high, take pictures of enemy territory and getaway before anyone could touch you. It was called speed.

The speed of that kind came at a price. That meant the SR 71 wasn’t a real sharpie in the bend ‘n turn race. But it was more like a rocket with wings, fast in a straight line, horrific at close moves. It might turn it across a whole country if it had to. It wasn’t a fighting build, it was one for running.

Today fighter jets are a different matter. They’re designed to speed around to dodge missiles and give chase to other jets. Give them Blackbird speed but no control and they’d be useless in a dog fight. Quick but so out of place it’s like sending a drag racer to a street brawl.

And if you want to go that fast? It’s insane expensive. You require special metals, insane engines and umpteen fuel. Nobody’s paying for that in a jet that might not even come back.

Cool as speed sounds. In a real fight it isn’t who’s fastest. Survive and win is what it’s about.

America must protect the world again, and this time against China. Do you agree with me?

I am a Chinese. Let me tell you what I really think. The world has always been very peaceful, but it is because of the long-term “protection” of the United States that the world is finally not peaceful. The world does not need the protection of the United States. China is not a beast and will not hurt anyone.

The world needs to be careful of the monopoly capitalists in the United States. This group of people will not hesitate to start a war for the sake of profit. China does not have monopoly capitalists, so it is impossible for China to start an aggressive war. China is not a country that profits from unjust wars, that is the United States.

The stronger China is, the safer other ordinary countries in the world are. China can really protect you. The United States is the manufacturer of most of the world’s problems. China is a manufacturer of trade, economic growth, ports, and railways, not a warmonger like the United States.

Let us welcome China. The better China is, the better the world is!

What’s the most memorable “small town” act of kindness you’ve experienced on a road trip, like someone unexpectedly helping you out of a jam?

For years the historical society and the County Big Wigs (Mayor, Building, Code, Divisions)… had been fighting over a small property. After all, it was the little city’s first ever General store…

To state – You just walked yourself into that one… would be putting it “short end of the stick” – I literally ram-rodded into that one!

Yes, you read that correctly – BOMBED IN!

Apparently there was a “Free For All” – townspeople, society, inners, outers, in betweeners, on the wall, off the wall – everyone! A Judge (from 3 towns/cities down) agreed to be the “Middle man” and hear everyone out!

Then I came in… not realizing I had walked into the wrong building!

When I came in – everyone was silent!

Murmurs of “who’s that?” were being whispered.

JUDGE: Ma’am, you have a few seconds to state your cause!
ME: Umm, not sure what I ran into but I’m actually here to look at a couple of properties…
JUDGE: Stop the timer (clerk stops the timer) Are you aware of what’s going on?
ME: I am all ears, state your case …
MINUTES: (read the case and the disputes).
ME: So it’s about a property, if I am guessing that’s across the street?
EVERYONE; YES!
ME: Your Honor, if you would – allow me to look into this. I deal with Historical properties all the time. But (looking at everyone) – I AM ALSO VERY FAIR! IF I SAY CANNOT BE SAVED, I MEAN WHAT I SAY. IF SUCH CAN BE SAVED – I ALSO MEAN WHAT I SAY! IS THAT CLEAR?
JUDGE: (glancing around)
EVERYONE: —— SILENCED ——
ME: Sir? Your Honor? APPARENTLY God must had walked me into this one. If you would allow it, post pone the meeting and grant me full access to that building and I will go in.
JUDGE: (sounding very relieved – you could see he was beside himself, had piles of notes, papers that he had been flipping) I will grant it – if this restores my sanity here. Who has the key?
HISTORICAL SOCIETY: I have the key.
JUDGE: Give it to her and how long do you think this will take?
ME: I am extremely accurate, it could take me a 15 minutes or it could take me a couple of hours.
JUDGE: I am going to order a recess – ABSOLUTELY NO ONE GOES WITH HER – GO!

The keys were handed to me, and mind you, the entire place was emptied out, everyone’s on the sidewalk – talking, smoking, and clearly all “eyes” were on me.

I then came out and shouted if anyone has a pen and a ledger – could you please hand it over to me? A couple of people rushed in, and the Bailiff walked across the street – handing it to me.

ME: Thank you Sir
BAILIFF: IS this good or bad?
ME: I hadn’t started yet! (smiling) Go back there please!

I entered in, did have to come back out to retrieve my tape measure, and a couple of other tools.

It wasn’t too bad, it could be restored, but would take a lot of elbow grease. The plumbing and electrical system would have to be up to code – can do.. A couple of planks (wood) can be replaced. Those old Fashioned Edison light bulbs (which many still functions today, not very bright, but still fully functional) – can be rewired and used in their original place.

The Roof, on the other hand, would need a serious upgrade and updating. A couple of places had collapsed (rear/back end). About an hour and half, I went to the second floor, these boxes piqued me. I saw the original old Tin and early B&W photos – one was dated 1883 and the others were dated around 1900–1920’s. I pulled those out. Above all, the original “diagram” (not really a blue print) was very helpful.

Since there’s a small Mom & Pop Restaurant there, I spied the Judge sitting there (all by himself) eating and reading the newspaper. I walked out… Everyone’s eyes were on me, I ignored them and walked inside… to the Judge.

People were beginning to crowd in… I waved my hand and said “Please leave…” They were curious, they wanted to know “WHO WON?!” Judge said “I believe this fine woman here had ordered you to leave…” Bailiffs escorts all the people out… except for the Restaurant owner (family operated) they could stay.

Judge then said “Have you?”
ME: I have, but I want to go over a few things with you before we get the crowd back in.
JUDGE: Well, normally a court hearing doesn’t proceed in this fashion.
ME: It’s not a court hearing is it?
JUDGE: Actually – NO! (explaining that he volunteered to listen to everyone’s cases…)
(after a couple of bites of food, he then asks if I’d like anything? I stated Coffee with Cream please!)

People were crowding the restaurant windows – to a degree – this told me a lot… The people either cared or they didn’t care.

The Judge had the pile of his notes there, and I told him “Screw those…” This is the decision, and I had the outline of what needs to be done, can be done and I saw absolutely NO REASON why the city could not keep their original building. I had the photographs and showed it to him. Assuring him, this can be a tourist museum. Retro candy can be sold there, as well as the fountain area, they could sell ice cream, sodas. There were sufficient original glassware that can still be used or even sold.

The Judge then said “Cost?”
ME: Estimated cost to restore, update the roof, and upgrading is minimal…. $xxxxx
JUDGE: Sounds reasonable
ME: I rounded it up to the highest amount because of “surprises” that could be lurking by…

JUDGE – he was satisfied and then called for the Owner – and a Bailiff – to have us exit out the back door and enter to the building where the meeting was taking place… via the back door.

We exited out, and entered in. Then the Judge requested a chair for me – parked right here (beside his table)… then instructed the Bailiff to let the crowd back in and the authorities back into their seats. (It was packed, standing room only, and in addition, beyond the fire code requirements of occupants in building! HA!)

People filled the place quickly… lots of small chatter and whispers.

The Judge was still reviewing mine, and then told me – I am going to have you speak….

JUDGE: (pounding the gavel) SILENCE. CONFERENCE AND FINAL DECISION IS IN ORDER!

The authorities were on the edge of their seats, especially the HISTORICAL SOCIETY! The Mayor’s nerves were unraveling, because he was bouncing his leg like a maniac!

JUDGE: You may speak.
ME: First of all, would this gentleman here stop bouncing his leg? There’s no need to have unraveled nerves. You can all relax! Take a breath!
(I spied the chalkboard and asked the Bailiff to place it over here)
From there I outlined the pros and cons… the PROS outweighed the CONS!
I then on the chalk ledge placed the photos I had found upstairs in the storage… using erasers or chalk to support them.

I then went to the podium… now dropping down the cost, the requirements and it was 100% doable! It can be saved and there’s absolutely NO REASON why it could not! The Total Cost – I rounded it off HIGH because of any surprises that might be there…

AND I went on to state that this business can still be operational – explaining that Retro Candy can still be sold, there were more than ample reasons why the shop can still be fully functional. And I HAD to state this “I NOTICE THIS AREA DOESN’T HAVE AN ICE CREAM SHOP! “ (chuckles) THAT PLACE CAN BE THE ICE CREAM STORE!

I further went on to state that the lighting, Edison Bulbs, can still be used – it can be both a Museum and Ice Cream shop. Then I used a “psychological tactic” “Considering the city’s twin Theaters is one block away…” Would be a popular spot.

I also added that the things that’s dated and old, can be used for display, a hands-on for children, adults, anyone that has to see how things work… can be demonstrated there…

JUDGE: Thank you for your affirmation. I’ve seriously reviewed everything and I side with the people and Historical Society – BUILDING WILL BE RESTORED. I have also appointed her (my name) to oversee!
ME: Huh?
JUDGE: I’m sorry, isn’t that why you were here?
ME: Umm, no, I wanted to see a couple of other properties….
JUDGE: but you are qualified are you not?
ME: Yeah I am but…
JUDGE: That settles it – she will oversee the building! (slams gavel) about 75% of the people were cheering.

YEAH, I walked myself into that one… but never mind the matter – I spied the Code and Building Authorities and summoned them over…. and using the diagram, I drew where new plumbing and electrical system would be going through. Plus the roof… Re-enforce it and since I noticed piles of Tins (roofs) on my way there, they can be reused and salvaged.

It was approved that fast… and the Towns people were primarily outside “chattering’. I then SHOUTED with a loud voice ‘EVERYONE!? ATTENTION PLEASE?!” then proceeded to “keeping the cost down” I would like all carpenters, builders, plumbers, electricians – to see me… LET’S MAKE IT A VOLUNTEER RESTORATION EVENT!

Historical Society President and Vice President OBJECTED! I overruled them… and for a reason… They argued and bickered and the Judge who was there stated ‘I APPOINTED HER, YOU FOLLOW AND COMPLY WITH HER! NO MORE ARGUMENTS!”

I then took the chalkboard and erased everything and put up THURSDAY-FRIDAY – ROOF, SATURDAY ELECTRICAL, PLUMBING and CARPENTERS (Craftspeople). With the times… SUNDAY – OFF ….

How did it all come out? WONDERFUL! The roofing was completed before noon! And passed, we went ahead with the electrical, plumbing … which was half done on Thursday. Friday became the restoration of the building itself. Wood fully restored, a couple of planks replaced… Men, Women, and even Teenagers/Children were all involved. While I had the time 8 to 4… it was already almost 10 pm on Friday night and the entire first floor was a sight to behold!

The Mayor (who loathed that place) was there with his wife (and he’s hen-pecked! Whatever his wife says… goes! Whether he agreed with her or not! She had the final say so!) and she went upstairs and got into the boxes, pulling out old uniforms (counter), and finding this and that… (thank goodness she had elaborate knowledge on antique and vintage appliances)….

An elderly man (tinker) was repairing the old cash register, he completely restored it, where the brass was shining as if it were brand new, right out of the box! I have ABSOLUTELY no idea how he could restore an old cash register that quickly, but I am not going to question that either.

Close to midnight, I would say 80% of the population was either inside or outside… This was when people began bringing the “exterior” tables and chairs… While originally the store did not have an “exterior gate” but the townsfolk took 4 parking spaces and made it an “exterior seating”… Potted plants were brought in…

The only thing left were the bathrooms – there were single toiletry – one for men and one for women. The old gravity toilet, pedestal sink. Call it out to the Mayor’s Wife – she already had plans to restore it in its original state (non-ADA friendly). Meanwhile the Building Director (head honcho) wanted the rear end to have the “current facilities” (Restroom) that was handicap friendly, and a building in the rear to have the Freezer and Refrigerator for “food storage” that was modern. (To satisfy the Health Department’s concerns).

Sunday was off, after church, one woman decided to go inside and start the business up…. The Pepsico (Pepsi, Dr. Pepper, and Mountain Dew) … She actually took the time to make a wooden sign… Drinks – $1.00 a glass. A family used to have an old A&W Rootbeer business, they had the antique Rootbeer keg..

I admit, I LOVE A&W Rootbeers, those frosty mugs with frothy heads! I drank at least 3 of those! I am seriously addicted to them… well worth the $3.00 spent! They had the original A&W Mugs… (trust me, I tried everything to buy that old mug! NO! NO! NO!)

The town Mayor to my surprised had a huge change of heart! A brand new grill was installed, and the menu was “Hamburgers, Grilled Cheese”… no fryers (I wouldn’t permit it because the building is very old) Several craftsmen built the hood (using salvaged wood from previous buildings)… A townsfolk donated the 1930’s GE Refrigerator (yes, with that huge round machine on top – image acquired from the internet posted below) – fully restored. Which was the salad storage.

Mayor called for a GRAND OPENING – Wednesday! I am dead serious – everyone was curious about how his wife did the bathrooms… she wouldn’t allow ANYONE to see it… Then come Wednesday… the grand opening! The street was bottle necked with people’s parking… and everyone packed up around the exterior.

Even the Judge from several cities away was invited. He was given the KEY to the CITY. Believe it or not, the clerks and two cooks, were dressed to the nines – as if they were Time Traveled from the 20’s era…
Afterwards… those in authorities, and historical Society – which they had the museum upstairs, all tastefully done.

As for me? I had to see the bathrooms! I was one of the firsts that entered in, and the bathrooms were “chained out” (meaning No entry)… two Mannequins stood there…. dressed to the era.. of the 1800’s! The woman with her hoop skirt, hat, and parasol which draped on the edge of the pedestal sink. The original ADS that hung on the walls, the mirror… she’s standing in front of the mirror, putting the final touches. As for the man, He’s also standing likewise, with that original container of “Mustache Wax” fixing his twirls of his mustache. Original to the era, was his cane, and bolo hat. BLEW MY MIND!

And YOU CAN SEE THIS clearly from the counter – the bathroom doors never closes.

The Mayor’s wife truly outdid herself! One guy, lugged in a totally restored “barrel”, which had a hole and a key padlock. (original to the era) He carved in the lettering to that era – DONATIONS. People were encouraged to donate.

While upstairs, the Judge startled me when he placed his hand on my shoulder… I was reading the old newspapers that were in a protective sleeves… Town Newspaper – back in 1899. Specifically, reading those old ads… I jumped.

JUDGE: Sorry for that. I just wanted to let you know. Everyone’s happy! Beautiful place… but I often wondered, what would have happened if it couldn’t be restored or saved?
ME: Hasta la bye bye!
JUDGE: You would have really done that?
ME: Yes Sir. It does hurt, I’ve had to turn the tables in that direction before… no one wants to see an old building with historical significance be a thing of the past. But don’t worry, this place will still be around for years to come!
JUDGE: Thank you!

I then got into my truck (which fortunately, was parked in the rear, in front of the old oak tree, and no one’s behind me or blocking me to get out…) and left….

I never did return to that small city… until one day, I heard on the news, that an EF-5 tornado plowed through it… Saw the photos, and was greatly relieved that the old building and its surroundings were spared.. it was primarily to the north where residents and several churches were completely leveled.

Then a news update, believe it or not, that old building became a “Food & Water Distribution destination”… Glad the news crew video taped the interior – still as it was when it was fully restored….the town was fully rebuilt.

My Ex Wife Thought She Could Make Post Divorce Life Difficult, Forgot That I’m A Family Law Attorney

The 20 item list is worth your time.

MM AI generations

Some illustrations for various Sir Whiskerton stories.

What do Chinese people think of the US’s banning of tech transfers to China and the tightening of technology exports to China?

During Trump’s first term, China was heavily dependent on US tech across the spectrum of activities of manufacturing, banking, and even government administration. Trump threatened to cut it off the supply of semiconductors, the life-blood of the manufacturing industry, if it did not give up its technology program, known as MIC 2025.

I would imagine the people at that time, the government and businesses, were very concerned. But they were not cowed. The publicity of MIC 2025 was toned down to avoid argument. China was then in negotiations on Trump’s trade and technology war. Its fundamental response of the threat was the whole-of-nation effort to build its own semiconductor industry.

It succeeded against every roadblock put up by the US, including the long-arm jurisdiction to bar ASML, a Dutch company, from selling certain lithography machines to China. But it was all in vain. China now accounts for 35% of the global capacity of chips, and 60% or more of the demand. In February, Ren Zhengfei, Huawei’s founder was able to report to President Xi Jinping at the tech meeting in Beijing that China was no longer vulnerable to the supply of chips.

Huawei grew stronger against the harshest sanctions by the US. It is still banned from very high-end chips. Then along came DeepSeek to show there are ways to do things without very high end chips. Then there is Manus, whose autonomous LLM was developed without them.

China is now largely self-reliant on technology. It does not need US tech. US restrictions are therefore water off the duck’s back. I reckon it is now nonchalant about them. It would take them into account when it imposes sanctions of rare earths minerals.

On the contrary, it is the US which is desperate and feeling pressured. Its constant fear is losing to China. It is therefore inclined to act silly and irrational. Two recent cases would suffice to illustrate this point.

(1) US lawmakers are pushing to try to stop Huawei’s HarmonyOS from expanding worldwide, accusing it of being used for spying by China.

(2) US is fighting China over the leadership of AI. Biden had the diffusion rule to limit exports of chips to China to limit its access to US technology. Trump rescinded it because he found it too complicated. His Commerce Department replaced it with the directives – anyone anywhere in the world who uses Huawei’s Ascent AI chips violates US exports controls, and there are consequences for anyone who allows US chips to be used for training Chinese AI models. It has since removed “anywhere in the world” from the directives.

This crude attempt to isolate China’s AI is like the US fighting the windmill. DeepSeek is open-sourced and cheap to use. It has already destroyed the myths that increasing sophisticated chips and huge investments are crucial. People everywhere would use it. US has no chance to prevent this.

China continues to advance the power of its LLMs. An example is the autonomous Manus model. But China is less focused on the power of the LLMs, and more into the adoption of AI in every aspect of business and people’s lifestyle. AI adoption is widespread across the country because it is available and cheap, whilst it is quite expensive in the US.

Farmers are in full blown crisis mode because of the tariffs. How will we be able to put food on the table?

I have good news and bad news.

First the bad news – the United States produces far, far more food than it could ever consume. This is largely due to government subsidies that encourage farmers to produce food that no-one wants. It’s not that this food is “inedible” but because they grow more than you could consume. The United States keeps producing more and more dairy even though average dairy consumption in the country is dropping and has been for quite some time. The “food pyramid” wasn’t prepared by nutrition experts, but with the influence of farming lobbies.

So the good news is, relax, the United States hardly needs to import any food at all to feed its population. There’s lots and, if worse comes to worse, a lot of food can be diverted from wasteful purposes (e.g. turning it into alcohol) to useful ones (feeding it to people).

Now the worse news – this means the failure of small farms, which have already been failing because they don’t have the capital or efficiency of large corporate farms. It also means food prices are likely to rise from historic lows.

an example of when we humans do something completely selfless ..

Hats off for a job well done

What’s one mistake you’re glad you made?”?

My contraceptive injection was due on September 2nd. School started September 4th. It would be so much easier to go to the doctor without my two children in tow. Son would be at school. Daughter would be at playgroup. I would finally have a few hours a week child free! So, I put it off, for 3 days. Ex-husband came to see our son after his first day at school.. and we got sentimental “he’s growing up so fast..”

Ex went to local pub to get some condoms from the machine in the gents toilets.. They were fluorescent. “Hohoho jolly green giant..” and “howzat for a light sabre? I can feel the force😉 (whilst waving his genitals and making zuzh sounds) with the orange. And blue was pinged across the room like a meteor. Shooting star! He made me laugh.

Depro pravera warns on the packet that it can take up to 2 years for a womans cycle to resume after ceasing to use the contraception. I got it injected 3 days late. But this time it made me feel unwell. Queasy. I had slight spotting. Told the doctor in December, so he did a pregnancy test.. yeah, I was. Exactly 12 weeks.

Big mistake. Huge. However, after new youngest son was born, the post natal check up found abnormal cells in my smear test. Colposcopy found cancer in situ. Doctor agreed to hysterectomy instead of sterilisation. Take it out and throw it away rather than disconnect it. Apparently my ovaries were polycystic too – so also removed.

Without me having my youngest son, I wouldn’t have had a smear, and it was very unlikely that the cancer would have been found before it spread. I gave him life. He saved mine.

Can a fighter jet be stolen?

Until one day the MiG 21 was an enemy jet no one could touch. Then it was parked in Israel. How? A man made what would be a life changing decision.

We were in the 1960s when the Cold War was going on. The deadliest weapons were on display from countries. Fast jets with power—that’s what they had and let me tell you the Soviets had the MiG 21 and it frightened a great many people, especially in Israel. Israel didn’t know much about it. An answer was what they required.

And as part of their spy agency Mossad couldn’t just steal it so they hatched a plan—don’t steal it, make someone hand it to you.

It was Munir Redfa of Iraqi pilot. He sat in the MiG 21 but wasn’t happy. The military weren’t very kind because he was a Christian in a Muslim country. Besides, he hated the missions he was ordered to fly. But as long as his whole family could get out he wanted out.

Yes said Mossad. His family got them out safe. In August 1966 Redfa took off as though he were on any other flight. Yet this time he flew directly into Israel.

He did it. The jet did the job. And everything was changed. Israel took a look at the planes, learned their secrets and in the next war used that knowledge. It all changed on one pilot’s decision.

I Regret Cheating on the Perfect Husband

Pain. Sigh.

7 years. Holy Moly.

My Date Didn’t Want Me To “Try Anything” Then Had A TANTRUM I Rejected Her, The Next Day I Tapped…

Yes, when I was 25 I was part of a circle of friends which included four people my own age and an older gentleman (40) named Daniel (with a fairly common last name).

We were all coworkers and we spent time in bars and hiking together.

Daniel was quiet but friendly, calm, positive and enjoyed life to the fullest. He loved the outdoors.

He was European and hailed from Switzerland and living in the US working in the health care industry.

I got married at 27 and Daniel was one of my groomsmen.

We all sort of went our separate ways as some circles of friends do, but Daniel and I had a mutual friend, Bob, and when Daniel got married maybe 15 years ago Bob and I were invited to attend, which we did.

At the time Daniel was probably about 55. We had a congenial time at the reception and I never saw or heard from him again.

The strange thing was that this was the time everyone was joining social media. Bob and I were joined on social media. Daniel wasn’t into social media so he had no online presence.

The years drifted by.

Occasionally I would check to see if Daniel was around on social media, but he never was.

Last year I went to a cookout at Bob’s house for his son’s high school graduation. I asked Bob if he knew anything about Daniel, and Bob just sort of shook his head and said in a cryptic manner:

“Don’t bother looking for Daniel. He’s just gone, man, there’s no trace.”

I didn’t really understand that, did Daniel disappear, did he die, did he go into the witness protection program, did he return to Europe?

He would be about 70 now. Still pretty young for a positive and kind outdoor guy who got a lot of cardio exercise.

Other than this picture from my wedding day I posted of him, I can find absolutely zero proof of Daniel’s existence nor any related obituary anywhere.

What is the difference between interceptor, fighter, and attack aircrafts?

A plane wasn’t always a deadly thing. They were at first flying out there to spy. In fights of course leads to wins. We got fighter planes so. Their job? Survival by hunting and shooting other planes down. Simple.

Bombers? Yep. Big slow. Littered with destruction. We built interceptors as a way of stopping them. Nothing fast mean straight to the target. There isn’t any time to waste.

The attack planes followed. Sky really doesn’t matter to these. Tanks, buildings—whatever—they’re built to wreck things on the ground. It was tough low and packed with bombs and guns. They went like flying hammers.

There are fighters in the sky that fight. Bombers are chased by interceptors. The ground was hit by attack planes.

They all have a job. They each matter. Well if you got the wrong plane in the wrong place when the war starts you’re done.

Onion Crunch Burgers

Ingredients

• 1 1/2 pounds ground beef
• 1 (2.8 ounce) can French fried onions
• 3/4 teaspoon salt
• 1/4 teaspoon pepper
• Rolls

Instructions

1. With fork, gently mix beef, 1/2 cup of the French-fried onions, salt and pepper.
2. Shape into 6 burgers.
3. Grill or broil 10 minutes or until no longer pink in center, turning once.
4. Serve on rolls and top with remaining French-fried onions.

If fentanyl is so strong and cheap, why would addicts still use heroin?

Tho I have not had personal experience, I have administered heroin (diamorphine) and fentanyl in clinic and field “Pain Management” practice, and enjoyed the company of thousands of addicts in my ambulances over 40 years in Emergency Medicine…

Heroin has a much shorter “half-life”…. roughly 5 minutes, while fentanyl is far more “durable” at 2.5 – 3 hours…

For both the Pain Management Patient and the Addict, heroin is the more “controllable” drug…

What would be a short 20 minute “bump” from heroin would be “out go the lights for 2 hours” with fentanyl…

And the dose for diamorphine is far easier to calculate… 5 mg IV for diamorphine versus 50–100 micrograms of fentanyl… The addict is far more dependent on the “amateur pharmacist” that cut his fentanyl… or mixed it into his heroin…

There is a lot wider “therapeutic range” in a dose of heroin versus fentanyl… witness the skyrocketing number of fentanyl overdoses…

As I said, I have no personal experience with either drug…

“Jamesons” and a few ibuprofen still work for me…

Slainte…!

Storm Harvest

Written in response to: “Set your story during — or just before — a storm.“

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.

Yes, I have and I don’t regret it.

I’m a software engineer with over 6 years of experience. In my few years of experience, I’ve spent 95% of the time working remotely so most of my interviews have been virtual.

I saw a job opening for a bank and decided to apply. After some days, I received a mail scheduling the virtual interview. The interview was scheduled for 2 pm.

On the day of the interview, at about 1 hour 30 minutes before the interview, I received a call from one of the organisers of the interview asking if it will be fine for the interview to be moved 1 hour earlier. I said “it’s fine with me”. This meant that the interview would no longer hold at 2 pm but would now hold at 1 pm. At 1 pm prompt I joined the call on my computer but noticed no one was there. I stayed on the call for 15 minutes but still no one joined. I dropped off thinking they (organisers) were no longer interviewing me.

About 10 minutes after I left the call, I received another call from the same person who called earlier saying “why aren’t you on the call, the interviewers are waiting for you.” I said “hey, I’ve been there for some minutes but they were nowhere to be found.” So she urged me to join the call again and I did.

When I joined the call again, there were about 5 interviewers. One of them greeted me and asked me to turn on my camera and introduce myself. I turned on my camera but noticed none of the interviewers had their camera turned on. So I asked politely if, at least, one of them could turn on their cameras. I was met with complete silence. So I asked again if I could turn off my camera so that the interview becomes an audio call but I was stunned by the response I got. He said “you either keep your camera on and introduce yourself or drop off.” I wasn’t completely surprised considering how they had treated the interview session right from the start. So I did what wasn’t expected by them, I turned off my camera and dropped off the call without introducing myself.

After a few minutes, I received a call from the same organiser that had called for the past 2 times. She said I shouldn’t have asked them to turn on their cameras and I wasn’t in the position of making demands since I was the one being interviewed. I made her understand that interviews are 2-way interactions where the interviewer tries to learn if I’m a good fit for their organisation and I try to learn if their organisation is a good fit for me.

Some interviewers tend to make it seem like they are doing you a favour by interviewing you and giving you a job even when you are fully qualified.

Will India fight all future wars with its own innovation, technology, and made in India defence equipment? Will this pose a challenge to American and Western defence suppliers?

Sure

I mean after all we are talking of a 130 minute BOLLYWOOD MOVIE right?

An Indigenous advanced weapons ecosystem is something only THREE NATIONS HAVE – USA, RUSSIA & CHINA

The Key components include

• Avionics
• Radar Assays
• Advanced Radar – Aerial & Ground
• Satellite Navigation & Communication
• Rocket Force
• Advanced Cyber Warfare & Intelligence
• Fighter Aircraft Engine

India has Z E R O out of Seven

I repeat Z E R O out of Seven

India is not even 50% close to achieving a SINGLE ITEM ON THIS LIST

How long do you think it will take to reach the capabilities of own innovation and technology?

Let’s see

The US spends $ 55.40 Billion on Defense Research

China spends around $ 51 Billion Equivalent Dollars on Defense Research

India spends even lesser than Turkey, around $ 3.5 Billion Equivalent Dollars on Defense Research which is barely more than Singapore which spends $ 3 Billion Equivalent Dollars

Around 6% of what China spends!!!

To create established indigenous weaponry of the same quality or similar quality India needs massive, massive investments

While India may not need Chinas $ 51 Billion ECVs a year, India needs at least $ 15 Billion Equivalent Dollars and that’s a 4 fold increase in investment into R&D

---

How many Quality Engineers does India have? Quality Researchers? Quality Research Ecosystem and Universities?

The Answer is you can fill up maybe a Mid Sized Wedding Hall with all these people

For instance US has 1,308 Active Defense Research Projects , China has 969 , Russia has 287, South Korea has 227, Israel has 168, Japan has 126 and India has 11, just two higher than Pakistan , Egypt and Malaysia (9) and behind Turkey (26)

A Bunch of Masters Degree Holders in DRDO ain’t gonna cut the list

You need plenty of qualified high quality engineers and scientists and that costs MONEY

---

How does India have access to powerful computing, satellite telemetry & navigation?

It doesn’t

India doesn’t even have control over it’s own data

India is utterly dependent on US – it’s servers, programs and GPS for any and all satellite navigation

---

So once again – HOW EXACTLY IS INDIA PLANNING TO ADDRESS ALL THESE ISSUES?

Now my friend Prasanna Bhalerao may think this just takes a magic wand and say CHOO MANTAR KALI and magically create everything

This will take LIFE CHANGING EFFORT meaning massive reforms in policy especially in education and plenty of state control and public sector policies for access to so much money

Most of US Defense began as private Industry but they were founded by highly competent qualified people

Westerwelt, Lockheed were all AVIATION ENGINEERS who designed their planes and equipment

Not a bunch of Thelawallahs on Government patronage

---

So before all these PIPE DREAMS you need a strong dose of reality

Best to contract SRK, Vijay and Allu Arjun and make a ₹1000 Crore movie where India develops Tenth Generation fighters and defeats China and the rest of the world

Easier and best for the JUGAAD based Indian mindset

---

For a Realist, the thing involves some of the GREATEST REFORMS INITIATED IN A NATIONS HISTORY to achieve even a quarter of what is the ultimate objective

Sir Whiskerton and the Poop Translator: A Tale of Cultural Misunderstandings

Ah, dear reader, prepare yourself for a tale so bizarre, so utterly unhygienic, that even the scarecrow would blush. Today’s adventure begins with a cultural exchange gone terribly, terribly wrong—involving Rufus the Radioactive Dog, the Farmer, and a very questionable translation method. So grab your hand sanitizer, steel your stomach, and join me for Sir Whiskerton and the Poop Translator: A Tale of Cultural Differences, Dog Biscuits, and One Horrified Cat.

---

The “Gourmet Sniffing Experience”

It all began on a sunny afternoon, as most disasters do. Sir Whiskerton was enjoying a dignified nap atop the fence when Rufus bounded over, his glowing green fur vibrating with excitement.

• “Whiskerton! WHISKERTON!” Rufus yelped, skidding to a halt. “I’ve cracked the code! The ultimate human-dog communication tool!”

• “Is it a dictionary?” Sir Whiskerton yawned.

• “BETTER!” Rufus proudly dropped a mud-caked book at his paws. The title read: “The Poop Translator: A Dog’s Guide to Human Cuisine.”

Sir Whiskerton’s whiskers twitched in horror. “Rufus. No.”

But Rufus was already racing toward the Farmer, who was innocently mixing feed near the barn. “Farmer! You gotta try this! It’s a gourmet sniffing experience!”

The Farmer, ever oblivious, blinked down at the enthusiastic dog. “What’s got your tail wagging, boy?”

Rufus nudged the book toward him. “To truly speak Dog, you must eat like Dog! It’s science!”

Sir Whiskerton sprinted over, paws flailing. “FARMER. DO NOT ENGAGE WITH THIS LUNACY.”

Too late. The Farmer squinted at the book, then at the “organic biscuit” Rufus had allegedly found near the compost heap. “Is this… organic?” he asked, poking it with a stick.

• “Extra organic!” Rufus assured him. “Aged to perfection!”

---

The Investigation

What followed was a whirlwind of chaos:

1. Sir Whiskerton’s Intervention:

   • “This is not a cultural exchange! This is a biohazard!” he hissed, batting the “biscuit” away. It landed in the feed bin. Doris the Hen fainted.

2. Porkchop’s Commentary:

   • “I mean, pigs are known for our refined palates,” Porkchop mused, eyeing the biscuit. “But even we draw the line at ‘aged to perfection.’”

3. Zephyr the Genie’s Contribution:

   • Floating above the scene, Zephyr snapped a spectral photo. “This is going in the Hall of Fame of Bad Ideas.”

4. The Farmer’s Fateful Decision:

   • Against all logic (and Sir Whiskerton’s screams), the Farmer licked the biscuit.

   • A beat of silence. Then—

   • “Tastes like… regret,” the Farmer muttered, before sprinting toward the water pump.

---

The Moral of the Story

As the Farmer gargled pond water and Rufus sulked (“You didn’t even chew it right!”), Sir Whiskerton addressed the traumatized farm animals:

“Some traditions,” he declared, “are best appreciated from afar. Preferably through a window. With gloves.”

Rufus sighed. “Fine. But you’re missing out on authentic dialogue.”

“I’ll live,” Sir Whiskerton deadpanned.

---

The Aftermath

Peace returned to the farm, though the feed bin was ceremoniously burned (“for morale,” Doris insisted). Rufus, undeterred, began drafting The Poop Translator 2: Cat Edition. Sir Whiskerton preemptively hid all the litter boxes.

---

Post-Credit Scene:

Chef Remy LeRaccoon presents his latest invention: Compost Confetti. The animals stare. “Eet’s celebratory!” he insists, tossing a handful. Doris faints again.

---

Best Lines:

• “It’s a gourmet sniffing experience!” – Rufus, cultural ambassador

• “Is this… organic?” – Farmer, regretting life choices

• “Tastes like regret.” – Farmer, post-lick

---

Starring:

• Rufus the Radioactive Dog (Well-Meaning Menace)

• The Farmer (Regretful Participant)

• Sir Whiskerton (Horrified Voice of Reason)

---

Key Jokes:

• Rufus’s “organic” biscuit is just a rock with suspicious stains.

• Zephyr’s Hall of Fame of Bad Ideas includes “Lucifer’s Red Paint Diet” and “Bessie’s Glow-in-the-Dark Hay.”

• Porkchop’s refined palate includes a ranked list of mud varieties.

---

Moral:

Some traditions are best appreciated from afar—especially if they involve sniffing.

---

P.S.

Remember: When in doubt, don’t lick it.

The End.

In the military, I read that lots of soldiers drink. Have you ever known somebody who didn’t drink?

In every military unit there are probably one or two people who don’t drink. I remember there were actually three people in my unit that never drank. One was a very religious type and an ordained minister. The two others were probably former drinkers who got wise and decided drinking wasn’t for them. All of them were non-commissioned officers, so I certainly was in no position to ask them why they didn’t drink. It’s really not something you should ask anyway, maybe the reason they don’t drink is embarrassing or very personal to them. That’s their decision.

It was nice, because after training exercises we would have one of the teetotalers drive us to a bar just outside of the training range in a Bluebird school bus. They always seemed happy to do it. Sometimes they’d even step in to break up a fight between us drunks that got too out of hand.

The United States seems to be on the downhill, what is wrong with us and how can we turn it around?

Okay, back in 1980 you elected Ronald Reagan, who pursued three policies.

1. Government bad
2. Labor bad
3. Taxes bad

And, frankly, it’s now way too late to do anything. The problem was that you still needed a government, but it financed itself on debt rather than taxes. Within eight years the United States went from the world’s largest creditor nation to the world’s largest debtor nation. That’s because rich people won’t pay taxes, but they’re fine with lending the government money. Heck, the government even borrowed from the massive social security trust fund to keep taxes low, and now it looks like they may not pay that money back. Labour union participation has fallen from about 30% to 10%, it’s nearly impossible to vote, and elected representatives are so dependent on getting huge amounts of money for campaigning to keep their job that they listen to donors instead of constituents.

Since the 1920s, the U.S. economy was largely based on consumer spending. Just for comparison, the Chinese economy most certainly is not and the Chinese Communist Party has gone out of its way to ensure that easy consumer credit is not a thing. If you want stuff, you have to pay up front for it. Now consumers keep taking on more and more debt while their wages stagnate.

And if you’re wondering why no-one makes stuff in the U.S. anymore it’s because around the beginning of the 21st century you let retailers run the show. Rubbermaid used to make all its stuff in the United States. It was profitable and all of its products sold well. But Walmart stopped carrying their products until they offered lower prices and they couldn’t do that without switching production to China and lowering quality. Rubbermaid isn’t an independent company anymore.

And for moving stuff in China, the George Bush the Elder administration started telling American companies how to do it back in the late 1980s. Again, remember, labor bad. Labor asks for money. Very bad for business. Move to a state that hates unions like… well, the majority of them.

Meanwhile, Americans are under the self-delusion that they have the best of everything where the only things they lead in are “imprisonment” and “gun homicides”. They have the worst and most expensive health care in the OECD – because government bad, taxes bad. Private industry good!

So American school lunches look like this

And Brazilian school lunches look like this… and cost less

So, maybe stop deluding yourself, and pay your taxes on time, and stop electing “Government Bad, Employees Bad, Taxes Bad” politicians. No guarantees. You’re $35 trillion in the hole at the moment so stop digging.

Are we measuring China’s GDP wrong?

A fantastic video.