I’ve been talking with AI about various boyhood traumas. I will tell you that it is very helpful and useful for me to close out some of the past events in my life. Oh, for certain, I am a big believer in counseling. But this chat AI is really helpful.
The stuff is pretty personal. And I really don’t want to bother you all with it. I’m just saying that we often need to have a sounding-board to address our various issues; issues that we have either suppressed, or adapted to. (Often maladjusted to.)
I spent hours discussing my sister Nadine. And the AI explained to me the meaning of the various historical interludes, and what the psychological motivations behind them. Fully and truly enlightening.
If you all have a medical plan that permits low cost counseling, I strongly suggest you take advantage of it. I have in the past, and I am a big believer in this kind of support, but AI has a role. It is available now, and is often free or cheap.
Guys. We all go through troubles. But talking with a third-party about them is helpful, calming and a significant element in personal growth. I strongly recommend you all utilize the resource if you have the time.
Today…
What is something that was ruined because too many people started doing it?
Going to Venice
Wow! I mean Wow!
But don’t go there. Please. If you do, try to stay a few days rather than just dropping in.
Venice is actively trying to discourage tourists. They’ve pretty much made the city unlivable. It already has narrow streets and getting around is a pain in the butt, and using things like gondolas and water taxis is prohibitively expensive.
Although “Venice” proper has about a quarter-million permanent residents, the “old city” only has about 50,000 residents, and that number has been shrinking consistently over the decades. You would think it was Detroit or something. Really. In the 1950s over 175,000 people lived in the old city, but it’s become too expensive for most residents.
That means, on any given day, there are as many tourists in the old city as there are residents. In peak season, there are twice as many tourists as residents. Unlike one of my favorite parts of the planet, Niagara Falls, which has a fair amount of open space and lots of places for the locals to escape from tourists, residents of Venice have to live with them.
Now, Venice is not by any means the only place on the planet that gets too many tourists. Lots of places from Amsterdam (We know you’re only here to smoke hash and gawk at the girls) to Machu Picchu (all those people walking on the place damage it) have these problems, but Venice is a nearly intact Renaissance city that until the past few decades was treated with a lot of respect and reverence. Nowadays, visitors are commonly fined for swimming in the canals (raw sewage by the way), littering and feeding the birds.
And Venice has serious problems. It’s massively under threat from climate change. The millions of piles that hold up the city are slowly sinking into the lagoon – a problem that historically was dealt with by building on top of old buildings.
Now, in a lot of places, like my beloved Toronto, having people visit supports the city financially and adds to its charms. Not so in Venice.
So, if you want charming buildings and canals, try Hamburg
Or Birmingham!
Or Stockholm!
The US now is detaining tourists entering the US for hours/days. Will US tourism collapse? Will countries around the world tell their citizens to avoid all travel to the US?
I’m American but I live in Australia.
My wife and I used to spend 6 months of the year in the US every year. We bought a truck and a travel trailer which we used to keep in storage in Ft Worth.
On each trip we would spend $30,00 to $40,000 on parks, food, fuel, clothes and other things.
In 2023, when it became apparent that trump WAS going to run again and that the election would, at best be close, we decided to sell our rig.
With all that is known about trump, the fact that the election could even be close, completely crushed my faith in my fellow Americans. The country has been taken over by a sickness called Trump Delusion Syndrome.
My wife is Australian. I will be applying for Australian citizenship. The US is not, and never was the country I was taught to believe it was. A large number of the people are hate filled, racist, morons. Even after trump is gone, those people and their descendants will still be there and a lot of them are armed to the teeth.
I will never return to the country of my birth.
[HD] Twin Peaks – Jimmy Scott sings “Sycamore Trees” in the red room
Have you ever walked into work only to realize that you were fired?
A coworker came to me and said, “ I came to work this morning, and my fob wouldn’t let me into the building, so I had to follow someone into the building, I tried calling HR on my company phone, and it was dead, so I followed someone into our floor, and then for some strange reason, I couldn’t log into my computer. If this company doesn’t shape up, I’m going to quit”
I stared at him with my mouth open wide enough to catch flies.
Then he said that he was just kidding, but that he was going to be fired very soon.
My mouth was still open.
We were moving offices, headquarters was down sizing and our department was taking over some recently vacated floor in the main building. They gave each of us, our new office number, and we were to pack our boxes, and put the office number on the box.
My coworker had been curious about his new office, so he had slipped in, as he had described, and went to see what his new office looked like. It was a storage room.
So we went wandering around the floor, and asked people what their new office number was. 6 people on our floor had the same office number as my coworker.
All of their computers, desks, chairs, filing cabinets were all going into a storage room.
Now I am nervous, even though I never found anyone with my office number, I had to check it out.
My coworker led me over, and we snuck in. I had a real office. But sure enough 7 of my coworkers were moving into a storage room, that didn’t have room for 2 people, let alone 7.
That’s when 7 of my coworkers inadvertently learned that they were going to be fired.
They were let go the day before the move.
I AM A BLASTED TREE
Written in response to: “Set your story during — or just before — a storm.“
HAAKON RAGNSKJOLD
She was tearing at me and, in a panic I struck out, my left arm flailing. I do have a pretty good left hook.
She fell to the floor. Her face distorted from the blow, and half her face rolled to the side of her head.
It was no human being who had attacked me! I found my way out of the chamber and ran down deserted corridors. I located a door that let me out into a luxuriant green valley.
I ran. I had no idea where I was. At times a bolt of pure lightning would strike from the azure sky. Each time something would appear. I didn’t seem to be the target of these bolts.
The first time, a man appeared. He must have leapt an eighth of a mile.
The second time an incredible, bat-winged flying machine appeared in mid-air before crashing. It must have been a hundred feet in length. Men emerged from the craft, apparently not greatly injured.
If I’d thought the flying machine immense, it was as nothing compared to what the third bolt brought forth. The reptilian creature must have towered some five hundred feet in height. Its cry was deafening. Lightning lanced upon the bony plates lining its spine. Pure fire blasted the valley.
I had never run so fast and so far. At last I fell almost senseless by a great white rock. When I came to, I looked at the valley. It nestled between two ranges of mountains. Something did not look right here. It took a moment for it to click into place. The valley extended for what must have been at least fifty miles. But there was no horizon. It just went on an on in a straight line. I was in a gigantic corridor but it was artificial.
Before the lightning had struck me I had glimpsed that dark shape in the sky. Was I in some immense craft? The three women had said I was the first of many. Had I already seen three more? And that gigantic creature? It couldn’t be what I thought it was, even though it looked exactly like what I thought it was. And I…and these others? What kind of job would require something like this?
And I knew who they all were. The man whose father had injected his pregnant wife with a serum of alkaline radicals—made him a super human. He had challenged God on a mountain top and been struck by lightning.
An engineer who had created a steampunk flying machine in the Nineteenth Century. He too had challenged God by flying into the heart of the grandfather of all thunderstorms.
The lizard, it seems, had brought his own lightning to the buffet.
Not a hundred feet from me another bolt of lightning exploded. I was thrown against the white rock. My head cleared and I saw a man appear. He was dressed in rags and tatters. He saw me and swiftly approached.
When he drew near, I was shocked at his appearance. His hair was black and matted. His eyes were yellow and watery. His skin yellow, like parchment. I had no strength left. If he meant me harm I could not fight him. He was as tall as the white rock I’d rested against—a giant of eight feet.
“Do you understand the English tongue?”
I nodded.
“I do not know where I am. I thought I was dead. I should be dead. I went out to die. I know the thunders of heaven struck me. I am a blasted tree. The bolt has entered my soul.”
The creature looked into my eyes. Up this close the full impact of who, and what, I was seeing took my breath away. I could well understand how his creator had recoiled from his creation in horror, calling what he saw hideous. The man was indeed hideous. Yet, I could see there that he had chosen the features for their beauty. But that this thing lived had turned its beauty into ashes.
I tried to cam myself. I had no doubt this being could tear me limb from limb if he wished.
“Were you struck by lightning,” I asked. “Your clothes. There are burnt patches.”
“I have wanted to die. For all I have done I deserve to die. I gathered the wood for my pyre. Fire came from above. I felt its agonies. Wilt Thou burn out all the evil I have done? Let its pain grant me redemption and forgiveness. Let me scream in its agonies as that my suffering may surpass that which I inflicted.”
Lost in his soliloquy, the creature looked at me, seemingly for the first time. His hand stroked my face.
“You, too, are scarred. You are like me.” He leaned in close.
“Are you like me in other ways? Did he make you too?” I could not read the creature’s thoughts, nor gain insight as to his intentions. Did he think I was a second of his creator’s efforts?
The creature shook his head. “No. You have been scarred and flawed, but the hand of God has made you. You need not fear me. Vengeance’ has gained me nothing. I took the life of those who had never wronged me. I have suffered and suffered for the evil I did the innocent, who never did me wrong. You have done me no evil.”
He set his hand on my shoulder and it seemed those eyes looked deep into my soul.
“Will you be my friend?”
I admit I was taken back by this request. I knew exactly who, and what I was dealing with here, though it was impossible for me to understand how these things could be. Certainly, to refuse this request would be perilous. But to accept it without being truly sincere, and acquiescing only out of fear would not do. If I said yes, it must be out of a sincere heart, and not just an attempt to escape death. I had already endeavored to kill myself on Mount Washington—if I die now, I would only be gaining my wish, however belatedly.
The fact is, if the story was true, this man might never had had a friend in his entire life. How like him I felt. There was no need to search my soul. Could I deny to another sufferer that which I had so longed for in my life, and never really had?
I raised my hand to his shoulder. “Of course I will.” And I saw how well his creator had made him, for those tear ducts were now flooded.
We talked for long after that. I had often thought of the story. The monster had often been characterized as evil—yet, was it not his creator’s rejection of, what was without a doubt his own child, that had resulted in those acts he did? Certainly they were wrong. But the creature had long put such intentions far from himself. Indeed, his resolve to destroy his very own self witnessed to the desire to atone.
“What is your name?’
“Jhäeggr. And you?”
“He never even gave me a name. I was so hideous in his eyes that he could not regard me as a child of his labors, but a deserving inhabitant of the dunghill. Though I am unlike all men, and have none of the rights they may call their own—may a man not strive after such wishes? May a man not try to attain what others have by right? May he not be willing to pay a great price for his freedom, though others are freeborn?
“I thought I should call myself Adam, since I, like that first Adam, was created by the hand of his Father. But I was certainly not made in my father’s image, as he was in His. I am truly a monstrous thing. And I should not have been. But was my father not monstrous, who turned away from me in disgust? I was indeed the thing you see, while he was fair, comely and straight. But as I was in visage, he was in heart. So I do my father proud. He has paid for his crimes. I will honor my father, who am so monstrous as was he. I am Victor.”
“That is another way we are alike, Victor. I, too, picked a name for myself.”
“There are many ways we are alike. Our names, which we have chosen. That we have endured terrible scarring. That we both seek a mate and have always been denied. And…you too went out into the frozen wilderness, as did I, to put an end to your life. Why did you seek to do this?”
“I was tired of being alone as I was. Like you, I had no companion—not even friend to lighten my load. You were denied that—but did he not start to build you…?”
“It was all I asked of him. He reneged on our contract. So close it came. Do you understand my rage? Bad enough he brought me into existence and did not take responsibility for me. But to create another, to so lift up my hopes—and then take an ax to her before she had even tasted of life? Hard enough to lose what you did not even know you had—but to see the fruit near ready for the plucking, snatched from your grasp, thrown down and ground down by hateful tread. He declared it was to protect man, he feared what the two of us would do—but what I did far outshone the mightiest of his fears. If anything had ever made me an enemy of the human race, it was that solitary act of murder—torn from my grasp, murdered before she even drew her first breath!”
I had never imagined such depths of feeling. Rage enfolded him like the lightning storm that had embraced me. But in a moment it was gone. And great, wracking sobs overcame him. Though deep down I feared this being and knew not what would follow, I could not deny the fellow feeling. I set my hands on his shoulders. Not even looking at me I knew that never had he had another to suffer with him and be to him a sympathetic ear.
The face that looked up to me was that of a different man. With that deluge of sorrow, and with another to share his grief it was as if he had truly become human. I was not fooled. He had always been human, but enduring unconscionable suffering had driven him near to madness.
He had recovered himself. There was a curious expression on his face. “You, too sought to destroy yourself. But why?”
“I told you. I couldn’t endure the suffering any longer. I had no more purpose to live. It was better I was gone. I would inconvenience no one any longer”
Victor looked at me strangely.
“I should never have been given life. By destroying myself I might atone for what I had done. My ashes might then be of some use to at least fertilize the earth. But what would your death prove? You were no blasphemy to life like I was. God had made you. You are lawful life—yet you wanted to destroy yourself. Help me comprehend this.”
“Victor—my own mother did not want me to be. Months before I should have been born, I was torn out of her womb. This I learned long after. If my own mother didn’t want me…”
“Why then are you still living if they meant to take your life?”
“A nurse found me. I was on the steel table, gasping out my life. She endangered her own job. She snuck me out of there. She gave me a chance.” I did not like the look on Victor’s face.
“And this is how you reward this woman’s sacrifice? You were scheduled to die. Your life was spared.”
“Look at me—look at my face! Who will love me as I am? I haven’t a single hope in hell of that! Do you think I want to keep on living like this?”
I couldn’t conceive how someone that big could move so fast. I didn’t see his arm moving. I felt the blow as he back handed me. I must have flown fifteen feet. The astonishment hurt worse than getting struck.
“Your self-pity disgusts me. You think you’re so hideous? Look up at the face that a creator couldn’t even bear to set his eyes on. Then tell me if you think you’re hideous. I am a blasphemy—but you, you’re life is lawful. You have not the right to take what God’s given you. You would have died had He not put that nurse there. You would have died had not that thing found you in the forest. You would have died had not the lightning taken you to this place like it took me. It took me! It found a use for me! No reason for you to live? You’ve been given a reason! You’re needed for something more important than your own little life. If it wants me, as lawless as I am—how much more you?” Victor’s eyes softened.
“I am sorry I was so hard on you. Give me your hand. I’ll help you up. Do not despair. Someday someone may find you. I found someone a long time ago. It was her I told my story to. No one before her had ever failed to recoil from me in disgust. She could not be the mate I sought—and yet, what she became—that was so much more. If I inspired her—she in turn inspired me. Each, the other’s muse. I will never forget her.
“So if I, who am a monster, was that one time, able to find such a one, dare you think to have less chance than I? Do you think yourself more monstrous?
“Something has brought us both to this place. Chanced us new possibilities. I see it. Can you not see it as well, my friend? Come—let us see what fortune has set our steps upon. There is life in both of us. Let us see what we can make of it. Will you come with me?”
I nodded. Victor was right. Self pity. There was no room for it, not when this great new adventure had opened up the doors. Several miles away I saw another flash of lightning light up the azure sky.
Easy Chicken Salad
Ingredients
- 1 roasted deli chicken, finely chopped
- 1 small fine minced red onion
- 1 or 2 stalks celery, finely chopped
- 2 eggs, hard boiled and cooled
- 1/2 cup mayonnaise
- 2 tablespoons sweet pickle relish
- Salt, pepper and garlic powder to taste
Instructions
- Mix all ingredients together in a bowl. More mayonnaise may need to be added a bit at a time to your liking dependent on the moistness of the chicken.
- Cover tightly and refrigerate until well chilled. Overnight is best as this allows the ingredients to blend.
- Serve on a bed of lettuce or in a crusty sandwich roll.
Why does China keep expanding its war machine, on the pretext that it is a deterrent, when no one has any wish to invade China or its territories?
Why? Because the West is a good teacher and China is a good learner.
There’s a saying in China: “落後就要挨打” which translates to “backwardness brings beatings by others”. In other words, the lesson Chinese policymakers take from history is that it was the backwardness of the late Qing empire that led to its subjugation by Western powers during the Century of Humiliation.
The application of that lesson today is that China must modernize and update its military to defend itself and its interests.
But there’s also a more prosaic reason.
This is a map of the US military presence in the Pacific.
If you’re a Chinese military planner and you see a map like this with US bases clearly aimed at containment (or worse), wouldn’t YOU be taking steps to build up your military?
Yet despite this, in dollar terms China still spends less than 1/3 of what the US does in defense.
Your question is a bit disingenuous, because it doesn’t address the whole picture.
Who REALLY Built The Pyramids? Ancient History’s Biggest Cover-Up
Pictures
Cryptids Vol. 4 | Monsters at the Bottom of the World
Why is that IITs lag behind in World rankings despite having the world’s most toughest exam, while Chinese universities like Peking, Tsinghua are always top ranked, what is the difference between the average student at Chinese, Indian universities?
Firstly – These “World Rankings”
What is the Criteria
Do these “World Ranking Authorities” sit in these Universities, evaluate teaching Programs, talk to thousands of students???
No right?
Likewise there is no Global standard for comparing Graduate Employability right?
And there is no Standard All Global Exam held for all Universities right?
From my understanding – most of these rankings are based on Research, Research and Research
How can IIT hope to compete in funding with Giants like MIT or Stanford who have thousands of Huge Corporates funding Billions of Dollars of Research ? They get more funding in a single ‘Fall’ than all IITs put together get in 5 years.
How can IIT hope to compete in funding with Chinese Universities when their Government has Billions and Billions of Dollars to spend on research?
More Money = More Research = More Pioneering Studies = More Breakthroughs
Less Money = Less Research or More ‘Rip off’ Research = Less Breakthroughs
So the rankings are a reflection of our Country India than our IITian Students
Secondly – IITs simply dont have the ability to deliver pathbreaking research due to the Attitude of IITians
How many IITians want to settle down and do research?
Many Chinese do. Many Japanese do. Many Americans do.
IItians would rather become Fancy CEOs and Sanction Casual Leave!!!
(Sorry Nadella is not included among the “Casual Leave Sanctioning CEOs” and nor is he an IITian – this Image included him)
Thirdly – Cesspit Democracy
In China they identify the Cream of the Cream from early ages, cultivate them, make them experts , fund their education and in short invest in them
In India- ZILCH, ZIP
Students have to fund their own education, coaching classes and Government only takes Press Photographs after a Ranker gets his rank.
Instead you have Inferior Students placed in Superior positions due to Reservations where unless you are poor or Grandma was treated badly due to her “Caste”, you have no mettle
So the Country is the Problem
The Students are Victims because the Country is Still Fourth Rate
The Country is Fourthrate because Leaders worry about short term and staying in power
Leaders care about staying in power due to Elections every five years clouding everything else and would stick to building latrines or building new IITs rather than quadruple the endowments and grants for existing ones
In Short
When the Unworthy form the Majority of the Voting Block – Its CESSPIT DEMOCRACY 101
Sir Whiskerton and the Beekeeper’s Ball: A Pollination Gala Gone Wild
Ah, dear reader, prepare your fanciest flower crown and brace yourself for a tale of elegance, opera, and extremely relaxed honey punch. Today’s adventure stars Beekeeper Beatrice, a human with more enthusiasm than coordination; Ferdinand the Duck, who believes every gathering is his personal stage; and Bessie the Cow, whose “herbal remedies” could tranquilize a bull. So dust off your bee-sized tuxedo and join me for Sir Whiskeeper’s Ball—where the dress code is “formal,” but the chaos is mandatory.
Act 1: A Gala with Good Intentions (But Bad Math)
Beatrice, her hat askew and gloves covered in honey (again), unfurled a banner that read:
- “POLLINATION GALA: BLACK TIE & BLACK-AND-YELLOW STRIPES REQUIRED.”
The farm animals blinked.
- “What’s ‘black tie’?” Rufus asked, chewing on his own bowtie.
- “It means fancy,” Beatrice explained, handing out flower crowns. “Bees love fancy!”
The bees, hovering in neat little tuxedos (sewn from napkins), buzzed skeptically:
- “We RSVP’d for nectar. This is a buffet of poor life choices.”
Undeterred, Beatrice unveiled the honey punch bowl—just as Bessie sidled up, winking.
- “I enhanced it,” she whispered, dumping in a suspicious green powder. “For vibes.”
Sir Whiskerton, sniffing the air, muttered, “Those ‘vibes’ are illegal in six counties.”
Act 2: The Duck Who Mistook a Gala for His Swan Song
Ferdinand, mistaking the floral arch for an opera house, burst into song:
🎶 “QUACK-AMELLIA, QUACK-AMELLIA!
MY HEART IS A POND OF ETERNAL SORROOOOW!” 🎶
- “That’s… not how La Traviata works,” Jazzpurr groaned, covering his ears.
- “Art is subjective,” Ferdinand sniffed, hitting a note that shattered a wineglass.
Meanwhile, Bessie—now wearing three flower crowns and a dazed grin—stared at her hooves.
- “Whoa… the flowers are breathing, man.”
- “That’s your face,” Porkchop said, poking a petal stuck to her nostril.
The bees, now drunk on spiked punch, attempted a waltz. It devolved into a conga line.
Act 3: The Intervention No One Planned
As Beatrice tried to corral a hiccuping bumblebee into a tiny top hat, Sir Whiskerton took charge.
- “Ferdinand, your aria is scaring the pollen off the roses.”
- “Bessie, your ‘remedies’ have turned the punch into a hazardous material.”
- “And bees—please stop trying to pollinate the moon.”
Beatrice, honey dripping from her elbow, sighed. “I just wanted a nice party.”
- “Lesson learned,” Whiskerton said. “Next time, skip the opera. And the felony punch.”
The Moral of the Story
Even the fanciest events need structure (and less duck vibrato). But hey, at least the bees made a great conga line.
Post-Credit Scene
The next morning, Ferdinand serenades a hungover scarecrow with “Quack of the Titanic.” Bessie, still slightly glowing, offers everyone “detox smoothies” (they taste like regret).
Best Lines
- “Is this classical music or a duck having a crisis?” – Jazzpurr
- “I feel the cosmos… and also my left hoof is numb.” – Bessie
- “We bees are dignified. This is undignified.” – A very tipsy honeybee
Starring
- Beatrice (Beekeeper of Broken Dreams)
- Ferdinand (Duck with Delusions of Grandeur)
- Bessie (Cow of Questionable Choices)
Key Jokes
- Bees in tuxedos judging everyone.
- Ferdinand’s opera destroys a wineglass (and sanity).
- Bessie’s “remedy” turns the punch into liquid confessions.
P.S.
A party without structure is just a bee riot with a dress code.
How does owning a McDonald’s restaurant work? Do the owners receive payment from McDonald’s or do they solely profit from selling food at their store?
LOL! Its actually just the opposite. You pay them and it will never end.
First off; you need to secure a location that can easily be over 2 M. McD is very good at helping you with that. So there is that payment.
Then you will pay a franchisee fee…FOREVER. That is never paid off.
The Franchise license REQUIRES you to honor any and all promos from corporate and yeah, some are painful. You will not lose any money on them as they are generally break even deals and the “big blasts” like 50th anniversary pricing, etc. is actually subsidized by McD in the form of free or reduced priced items to you.
As far as making money? That is 100% your control. You can’t set prices. McD has a guideline based on your location as to what you can charge. The rest is up to you. How much you pay your employees, etc.
My Brother’s BiL started at the local McD at the grill when he was 16. By the time he was 17 he was shift leader and Asst. Manager the day he turned 18 (minimum age to handle money back then) He hit college while working full time at the McD and eventually became store manager which only lasted 6–8 months and became the section then regional manager within a year.
Time at McDonalds U (yeah they have a training “college”) then back to a larger management role allowed him to apply for and receive a franchise. He expanded to 4 locations before retiring at 53 years old turning over the business to his daughter.
So yeah…there is money in it.
Tortellini Florentine Soup
Yield: 6 servings
Ingredients
- 1 (9 ounce) package refrigerated 3-cheese tortellini
- 2 (14 ounce) cans reduced-sodium chicken broth
- 1 (10 ounce) container refrigerated light Alfredo pasta sauce
- 2 cups shredded deli-roasted chicken
- 1/2 cup oil-packed dried tomato strips, drained
- 3 cups lightly packed packaged fresh baby spinach
- 1 ounce Parmesan cheese, shaved or shredded (optional)
Instructions
- In a 4 quart Dutch oven cook tortellini according to package directions. Drain and set aside.
- In the same Dutch oven combine broth and Alfredo sauce.
- Stir in chicken and tomato strips. Heat just to boiling; reduce heat. Simmer, uncovered, for 5 minutes.
- Add cooked tortellini and spinach to chicken mixture. Cook for 1 to 2 minutes to heat through and wilt spinach.
- To serve, sprinkle with Parmesan cheese.
Now that the American military is being diverted to the ME, should China use this opportunity to regain Taiwan?
- The U.S. military has long been outmatched and has long been a non-factor in China’s considerations.
- The choice of what is a good time is ours not yours. What is interesting to us is why bystanders are more anxious than the people involved?
- Peaceful reunification is the main option, non-peaceful reunification is the last option. As for when the final moment is, that is also for us to judge, not you.
- Taiwan is just a card. You can play the Taiwan card, and so can we. The areas surrounding Taiwan are under the actual control of the Chinese Coast Guard, and patrols are carried out on a regular basis. In short, the Taiwan card is now in our hands. We can play it whenever we want, and you have no right to interfere.
What happened at a job that made you say “I quit” right on the spot?
I was working at a Federal agency in IT (Systems Analyst / Programmer) which was still a very new profession. I had been there 7 years.
We were also very early in the use of real databases, which radically changed how systems were designed.
A contract specification came across my desk for an application to track building maintenance projects and schedules. It was estimated at 2 years to build and 10 million (1970’s) dollars.
As we were not heavily loaded, my assistant and I began to flesh out the design and scratch at the code in our slack time.
We had a working application to spec (with some extra’s) up and running in about 6 months and sent copies to the other regions for testing and evaluation.
They (and we) put it into production as an interim, but it ended up making the original spec and contract bid’s moot.
On the record, we received a special bonus ( a few hundred dollars ). Off the record, I was told that I had embarrassed our management, and would never be promoted. I did not quit as I had a family to support, but had my first resume since College out in a few days.
Received and accepted an offer in the Private sector in a few weeks (Database was new and very hot).
Best move I ever made. Worked in senior positions in top Companies, and then founded / co-founded 3 software companies, one of which went public, all acquired by partner or competitive companies.
The associate I mentioned above, left the agency and came to work with me a few years later.
Acuweather
Written in response to: “Set your story during — or just before — a storm.“
Riley Noel
“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.
Who REALLY Built The Pyramids? Ancient History’s Biggest Cover-Up
Pretty good. -MM
Who really built the pyramids—and how did they do it? Ancient Egypt’s most iconic monuments still hold secrets historians can’t fully explain. Despite mainstream claims that Pharaoh Khufu constructed the Great Pyramid with simple tools and brute force, compelling evidence suggests a different story entirely. Precise stonework impossible with primitive techniques, hidden chambers sealed off from exploration, and undeniable signs of advanced ancient technology—these mysteries challenge everything we’ve been told.
In this intriguing documentary, we dig deep into ancient history’s biggest cover-up, examining groundbreaking theories and startling discoveries that mainstream Egyptology has long dismissed. Could an unknown, highly advanced civilization have built these incredible structures, and if so, why have their identities and methods remained hidden for so long? Join us as we uncover the truth behind the pyramids, a truth powerful people might prefer you never learn.
What does the hydropower project in the lower reaches of the Yarlung Zangbo River mean for China?
Well, I daresay not even the Europeans will contemplate such a project, let alone approve and groundbreak it in 2025.
But first, what is a gorge or canyon? It is a valley framed by steep slopes on both sides.
The Yarlung Tsangpo flows through the world’s deepest canyon, with forbidding walls over 6,000m deep, averaging more than 2,000m over its 500km length.
Meanwhile, the elevation of the river descends from >5,000m at the source to 500m at the mouth.
I can stop here and the smart reader can figure out why even the most technologically advanced nations will avoid such projects.
Steep slopes and high elevation.
Recently, an apache with an MTOW of 10 tonnes crash landed in Ladakh, at an elevation of 4,000m. It took over six months to dismantle the stranded craft and carry it down piecemeal by truck and human mules.
That’s for a mere 10 tonnes. Imagine the insane level of engineering required just to transport the necessary building materials and machinery up the steep slopes of the Yarlung Tsangpo canyon, with the Himalayas in the way all around.
The plan is to drill a series of 50km long tunnels through solid rock to harness the 2,400m of pressure head around the hairpin.
When I first heard of it more than a decade ago, I went “no way!”.
But the Chinese have already managed to connect Lhasa, elevation 3,600m, by both road and rail.
They just might pull it off.
Just don’t ask me how.
What does 1.2 trillion buy? 300 billion kwh of green electricity annually at full capacity, equivalent to 3% of china’s total power generation in 2024.
This makes the medog dam the world’s biggest clean energy project. In fact, it is history’s largest energy project, period.
It will be studied for decades to come, and break new ground in extreme engineering and what human ingenuity is capable.
The techniques pioneered in this megaproject will revolutionize civil engineering at altitude, setting cities like La Paz and Quito on a path of revolutionary change, no longer held hostage to the forbidding geography of the Andes.
I am excited for the next phase of the belt and road.
I have much more to write about the project but I need to do some deep reading first.
That’s a very insightful story above about shrinking US tourism, Metallicman. (Well, apart from the libtard angst, that is.) It reflects what the wife and I have been picking up over the wires. Many well off “boomer generation” (older than us, I hasten to add, cough!) from my old haunting grounds of NW anglo Europe, are now diverting travel plans to visit friends and family, etc. And their children who live Stateside seem to be moving to Canada in their droves. Permanently. Jobs quit, houses sold, children reschooled, pets, you name it. The whole shebang. It’s not a small amount of people. Something’s going on. And the one’s heading there are now being detained and questioned at length by morons in uniform with random regularity. Sometimes for hours or even days. Especially N Europeans and traditionally migrant populations from elsewhere.
That post you put up on Quora last year concerning US Executive plans to, among many other drastic measures, seriously curtail domestic and mass travel/tourism both in and out of the US seems to be “manifesting” itself oh, so slowly and not so subtly. I wonder what the Key Event is going to be. The Accelarant.
Well. You did warn em, and then you warned em again, and then you told em that you warned em. The rest is up to the individual Templates, I guess.
Cattle penned, anyone?
Yah.
I’d say, going by what I’ve heard. (Our libtard whiner above being a good case in point. But at least he’s already out.)
As for the AI insightful conversations, concur with you on that 110%. I don’t use it for counselling, as I came to grips with my past long ago, not that it was anything extreme. NPCs do however leave particular kinds of stubborn scars and impressions on thrir charges. But I do use it for analyzing certain social dynamics and conversations that have, and continue to, leave me stumped. With frightening regularity. And I’m sure that’s not just me…
Or is it??? Haha. Maybe?
But whatever, let’s just say I’m no longer as confused as I used to be on certain scores. Some things will always remain a mystery, certainly. But if you know how to manipulate a good AI system and train it to recognize your cognitive patterns (let’s just leave it at that), the mysteries that can be explained, will be.
It’s true what they say about ageing, though– the older one gets, the more one appreciates how little one really knew or knows, after all.
Hello MM and readers of comments…. Karlova on youtube made the observation and suggestions some months ago on using AI as therapeutic tool with success, after decades of therapy and counselling led to numerous transference – countertransference issues and no results in therapy of any meaning. A client who has been ‘stuck’ in her early child-hood knot did the work with grok and started to undo the narratives , finally….
Although the latest evaluation by those who are familiar with AI do suggest that it has been as equally infected by Dunning-Kruger mental states as its programmers… An affliction of the mind similar to , or an aspect of, the ‘Wetiko’ of the indigenous of americas, or the ‘red dust’ of the Taoist…
Glad you made progress , not easy when close family members should have been institutionalized ….
And the pictures of attractive women have raised the ‘elegance’ level, some work on the slutty facial expressions still remains….
Cheerful Love GrizzlyBear hug
unuk
I’m going to say what I imagined. I don’t know what are real, and what are just imagination.
Why I imagined? Because I was in highly interested on the Egypt history during high school, especially on pyramids.
Long time ago, we had the energy guns / energy tools. For producing something, the tools were’re not let the rock become molten. I’d thought about to cast the rocks, but I thought cut them are better.
The pyramids in my ways are for connections. I can / could link the… some things with different places, as the networks. The rock pyramids can / could be used on enhanced the connection from non physical reality to physical reality. Rocks can save something thousands years.
There’re placed the history records somewhere, The words are another language different from either ancient Egypt or ancient China. That was my native language. I’m not sure, but I “saw” it some times, but I don’t know about them and not clear on what them looks like. And now, I don’t understand anything about that language. I think both two ancient languages are had some elements from that language.
The history is we and the enemy, and something else, maybe also the old empire but I’m not sure.
We used that guns destroid Atlantis, and there’re left the richat structure. But we were destroied by the old empire, and here’re became big desert. I ordered to emergancy shut down and destroy importance things, so the enemy can’t get that, I think so, but I don’t know. I don’t know is / are the computer(s) keep recording the history, but probably not.
The pyramids and some nearby areas are the base, but not with strong military force but with defense shield, so those rocks structures are remains.
And maybe, we’re be divided, the refugees from the east part as former Lamuria went to East Asia; the refugees from the west part then went to West Asia and Europe. The former Atlantis refugees went to the Europe.