How to make egg-salad sandwiches?
Say no more. I am an expert at it. As fellow who has spent 40 some years in the ‘States and 20 plus years in China, listen to me, I know how to make egg salad sandwiches.
We will begin with the basics.
Any middle school student can make the basic sandwich.
You hard boil a couple of eggs (easy to do. You put the eggs in a pot of water and add a pinch of salt. When the water boils, cover, and turn off the heat. Collect the eggs 20 minutes later).
You mash the eggs (I use a fork, but a potato masher works really good), and then add a generous table spoon (heaping) of Miracle Whip or Mayonnaise. Stir together. Add salt and pepper, and place between two slices of white bread.
Note that I never put the eggs in a blender. That turns the eggs into a puree, and it ends up feeling like you are eating some kind of mass produced sandwich at a truck stop. Yuck!
Oh, and most importantly… cut the sandwich into bite-size quarters.
It will look like this…
Here’s a slightly more advanced version…
You will notice that in the picture above is a thin layer of lettuce. That’s pretty advanced. I don’t recommend it if this is your first time. Just keep it simple.
Now, if you are ready, and have a few egg salad sandwiches “under your belt” you can advance to more challenging versions.
I call this one, the Advanced Egg Salad Sandwich.
Follow the same directions as above, but this time, toast the bread! This little change makes all the difference in the world. I’ll tell you what. Make sure that you add lettuce.
It should look a little bit like this…
Now, let’s talk about the Gourmet Egg Salad Sandwich.
This is really advanced stuff. So if you don’t feel that you have it in you, you can hold back and leave this for a time when you are feeling a little plucky.
In this version you cut up a meat (Ham, bacon, or chicken) and add it to the mixture. You also cut up a vegetable or two and add them (leek, onions, tomatoes, maybe some pineapple, or cucumber). Thus you should have a mix that might be egg salad with tomatoes and onions, or egg salad with ham and leek. And then you scoop this onto your bread upon a bed of lettuce.
Now, be careful, but you add a slice of cheese. Real cheese, mind you. Not the processed junk. I like American, or cheddar. But Jack and Swiss are really nice two.
Cut diagonally, and put in the microwave for 30 seconds to melt the cheese. And that is a gourmet egg salad sandwich. Like this…
Best served immediately and hogged all to yourself.
And that is how to make an egg salad sandwich.
Today….
War On Iran: – Failed Special Operation – Threat Escalation – Added: Trump’s Victory Timeline
The U.S. government claims that it had launched a large rescue mission near Isfahan, Iran, to retrieve the weapon officer of an F-15 airplane which was downed while it was bombing that country.
When I read the first version of that story I replied:
Moon of Alabama @MoonofA – 14:28 UTC · Apr 5, 2026
Bridges on sale …
Jennifer Griffin @JenGriffinFNC · Apr 5
According to a senior administration official:
Prior to locating the WSO (Weapons System Officer) and the US military’s daring rescue, the CIA first launched a deception campaign spreading word inside Iran that U.S. forces had already found him and were moving him on the ground …
The U.S. may have found and retrieved the F-15 officer. But that will have been tens of miles from the place near Isfahan where it lost two HC-130 transport planes and four MH-6 special force helicopters. That special force operation was most likely an attempt to steal enriched Uranian known to be hidden under a mountain somewhere around Isfahan. Such an operation was pre-viewed on April 1 by the Washington Post:
Risky commando plan to seize Iran’s uranium came at Trump’s request (archived)
It seems that the attempt ran into an ambush like situation and had to evacuate.
For details see how Will Schryver and Armchair Warlord are connecting the dots. Iranian analysts agree with their take.
In other news Trump is using foul language to threaten Iran with further war crimes. Iran promises adequate retaliation. The markets react to discipline U.S. action. Another TACO is likely to happen.
Added for later reference: Trump’s “victory” claims:Cont. reading: War On Iran: – Failed Special Operation – Threat Escalation – Added: Trump’s Victory Timeline
What are the main differences between how Western and Chinese economists view rational economic behavior?
Economists are just interpreters who use economic theory to interpret the economy of a country and it’s connection to the global economy
Western Economists gauge every consumer through the lens of a consumer of a capitalist economy
This is either because most , if not all economists are trained on the classic western consumer centric micro economic model that has been prevalent since the middle of the 1970s when Keynesian economics was passed over Modern theory
—
Western economists believe an economy requires minimalist intervention by the State and emphasizes a free market model where wages, prices, employment and inflation are part of the contraction and expansion of an economy
Profit is a key driver of business
The Chinese economy on the other hand emphasizes a mixed economic model where the State controls production and through production , maintains downward price control of essential commodities such as food, energy, aluminum and steel. This also means a dual hybrid market model where a substantial portion of the economy is ‘Planned’ or ‘Command’
Profit while important, is less so than National Goals and National Development, and a combination of both is crucial according to the Chinese model
The Western economists believe consumer spending drives an economy and that credit drives consumer spending. So Western economists gauge the status of an economy in terms of the credit availability, ie:- how expensive or inexpensive it is to borrow money. The focus is on services, where healthcare , banking, legal services, tuition etcetera form a major chunk of consumption.
The Chinese economy is driven by a combination of trade, State Investments into the economy and consumption led by domestic manufacturing. Consumer spending is driven by savings and bonuses. Services are subsidised heavily and consumer spending on services is highly skewed because of these subsidies
For instance, the US Steel Industry was driven by capitalistic forces and production peaked once the price equation bottomed out
The emphasis was on profitable manufacturing
The Chinese steel industry meanwhile over produces driving down commodity costs
This reduces profitability considerably but allows commodity prices to push downward which keeps borrowing costs low and helps the Government provide subsidized services with a fiscal advantage
—
Deflation for instance, is terrifying for a Western Economist to hear. Their economic views are focused on Individual consumption and credit availability.
However for a Chinese economy, deflation is a tool to ensure low cost borrowing and keeping everything affordable, focusing instead on raising production as means to boost consumption (Manufacturing on a larger scale and providing subsidies to bring down costs such as in Electric Vehicles or Solar Panels)
—
Just imagine the situation, if someone who is an expert with rules of sonnets and English poetry was allowed to judge a competition of Japanese poetry or German poetry where the rules are different and based on entirely separate languages
Dr Sachs & Dr Jin are two economists who have studied the Chinese model in detail, and who can interpret in better than most classic Western economists.
—
In Laymans terms – a Classic Western economist sees construction of a bridge as a consumption boost where contractors work for profit and laborers get paychecks, helping them pay for stuff and boost consumption
A Chinese economist will see the same bridge as a welfare boost, meant for public crossing, ensuring the essential commodities and their production are cost controlled through demand supply equations
Hence my opinion why the Chinese economy is deeply undervalued and the realistic nominal gross domestic product of the same is between 24 and 26 Trillion Dollars
Merkules – Oliver Anthony ”Rich Men North Of Richmond” Remix
Why isn’t 3D printing going to replace CNC milling anytime soon, even with all the hype around it?
3D printed part:
CNC-milled part:
Okay, so that’s not entirely fair. There are 3D printers that can print metal; SpaceX uses them to make rocket engines.
But here’s the thing:
Those 3D printers that print rocket engines and high quality metal parts? The machines cost hundreds of thousands to millions of dollars, and the parts they produce, usually by laser sintering, are eyewateringly expensive. CNC machines are cheap (I own one!) and inexpensive to run.
3D printers that an average person can afford are cheap, and the plastic is cheap, but they print coarse plastic parts. CNC machines that are in reach of anyone who wants one can carve metal parts with astonishingly tight tolerances. The parts are metal rather than plastic (though of course you can CNC mill plastic and wood as well), higher precision, with a better surface finish, better detail.
3D printing is better for disposable plastic parts or parts that aren’t subject to mechanical wear. CNC milling is better for literally everything else. I print molds for casting silicone on my 3D printers, but as soon as I get a handle on CNC machining, I plan to move away from 3D printed molds.
If you are stuck behind enemy lines, what military hardware (that you can carry) would you choose to survive?
I have operated in enemy territory and I also have some friends who were lost behind enemy lines.
You don’t need a lot of things to get back to your own people. A map, for example, is a nice thing to have but it won’t show you where your enemy is positioned or where your own guys are, at least not in real-time.
As these “trips” into enemy territory usually don’t last very long (maximum 24 hours) you also don’t need some fancy survival gear or a lot of food and water.
A radio is also not really necessary. Your enemy might even pick up your radiofrequency signal and locate you before someone from your own side decides to send out a search and rescue party.
You also don’t need some “special” guns or survival knives. You will neither fight nor hunt.
In addition to this, in such a situation, you should travel as lightly as possible: get rid of your body armor, your helmet, and other unnecessary stuff (axes, excess ammo, squad weapons).
Returning from a night mission behind enemy lines during the Kosovo War. As you can see, I didn’t carry a lot of gear.
So what would I choose instead?
- Weapons: my rifle, three or four mags, and two hand grenades.
- Clothing: a jacket, a poncho, and a pair of light boots.
- Food and drinks: two 1 liter water bottles, disinfection tablets, and a combat ration.
- Additional stuff: a night vision optic, the more advanced, the better. Spare batteries for it.
That’s all. Far more important than what you carry is what you do, your tactics. Your skills will save you, not your gear.
Through Foggy Veils of the Mystical Coast
Written in response to: “Write a story in which a character navigates using the stars.“
Kristi Gott
Crossing the Emerald River bar under the stars on a summer night, no one expected the sudden storm squall and wall of fog. But June could bring surprises.
Samuel remembered earlier standing next to the first navigation officer, Raul.
Now seventeen years old, Samuel felt his future was calling to him, from beyond misty veils of dreams.
The voyage of the 1890s hybrid steam and four masted ship, the “Nightflight,” was smooth so far. Samuel’s dream of learning ship navigation was coming true.
A few days before this he waved goodbye to his family while they stood on the beach below the isolated lighthouse in the wilderness.
Samuel felt a sense of wonder living on the Mystical Coast. Dreams shimmered like sunbeams on the ocean in his mind.
At the Mystical Coast black bears and their cubs roamed. Cougars slinked on the shadows and coyotes trotted in the wilderness.
Elk herds grazed in the meadows.
The sweet scented forests were full of birds calling and warbling.
It was all part of a life well lived on the Mystical Coast.
Samuel felt it was a place where everything is intertwined with nature and he was part of it too.
Mystical Coast’s moods could change quickly sometimes. She might be showing her peaceful side with flat seas stretching to the horizon.
Or she might display her mysterious face with fogs and mists cloaking the ocean and shores. When she felt dramatic her winds lashed the waves with gales and gusts, her waves and swells towered, and ships needed to beware.
Life there imparted a sense of wonder and beauty.
But now Samuel was ready to explore the rest of the world too. He wanted to experience faraway places, seeking out the essence of each one.
Back at the lighthouse, he dreamed of himself standing on the deck of a ship pulling into distant ports.
His science studies at the little school below the lighthouse served him well, and he was used to helping his father, the head lightkeeper.
A chance for training on the ship “Nightflight” offered opportunity to learn navigator skills.
The ship, Nightflight, smoothly rode over ocean waves on the sunny, June days. The shore was within sight, making navigation easy.
They saw seagulls, ospreys, eagles, sea lions, and whales on the voyage. Beyond sandy or rocky shorelines, we’re the mountains rising sharply, covered with tall trees.
The Chief Navigator Raul watched while Samuel practiced using the sextant, telescopes, compass, star charts, ocean charts, almanac, and ship’s log.
At night, the stars and moon poured silvery light on the sea.
In the calm June waters and the summertime warm temperatures, Samuel and the rest of the crew and passengers enjoyed stargazing and picking out constellations.
Measuring the angles and distance between the stars and the horizon with s sextant, Samuel calculated the ship’s position for practice.
One day when a pod of whales spouted, sky hopped and thrashed their tails everyone ran across the deck to the railing to watch.
Samuel made friends with the captain’s dog, Pepper, a small, brown and white “rat catcher” dog known for keeping rodents away from the food supplies.
In an instant one evening, everything changed.
Instead of anchoring overnight, taking his time, and waiting for daylight’s visibility, Captain Johann Rasmussen was in a hurry.
His sharp eyes above the curly beard and tanned face glanced around quickly, and his solid figure wearing the captain’s cap stepped rapidly around the wheelhouse and deck.
He decided to make good time in the silent seas of the night by crossing the Emerald River bar after dark.
But the quick weather change caught them off guard.
It began when the captain stood in the wheelhouse, checking the charts and steering away from the sand bars on the shores where the river met the sea.
He congratulated himself. They would enjoy a quiet cruise down the wide river to the port of Woodland, under the stars.
“Shouldn’t we wait for daylight to cross the river bar?” Samuel’s voice was respectful.
“No. We’ll be fine,” said Captain Rasmussen.
Entering the river, the captain and navigators saw the starry dome overhead disappearing when clouds and a wall of fog moved in.
The Captain Rasmussen hid his dismay from the crew.
“Captain, now we’re in for it.” He heard the tension in Chief Navigator Raul’s voice. More voices joined in.
“We’ll be fine. Settle down, all of you,” he said.
The breeze picked up. A gust hit the ship.
“Drop the sails all the way. Now.” He kept his voice deep and confident.
They heard the squall winds begin howling and wailing.
Fog so thick you could not see more than several feet flowed around them.
The ship was crossing the treacherous sand bar between the Emerald River and the Pacific Ocean. Dozens of ship wrecks littered the bottom of the water.
The proud captain, overconfident, eager to impress, knew he had crossed this bar many times already.
Why wait offshore, anchored overnight?
They were behind schedule already.
What could happen?
Wait. Was that a fog horn?
Was there another ship nearby?
Or was it the wind?
Then a sound like thunder. Two ships struck each other in the deadly Pacific Northwest fog.
Now Samuel felt the currents dragging him down and sideways.
Let yourself flow with it, he thought. Don’t fight it.
Just try to keep your head above water.
An image of his home at the lighthouse flashed through his mind. Somewhere his parents and siblings were thinking of him. They would miss him if he didn’t come back.
Something whooshed past in the water. He saw the long hair floating.
“Eliza! From the ship.” Samuel lunged to grab her.
He pictured her young face framed by dark hair pulled into a bun, and bright eyes with a sparkle.
It was only a split second, but their eyes had met with something like laughter in them before she looked away. She appeared to be close to his age.
With a surge of adrenaline, he powered through the current and reached, grasping her arm. She spun, kicking and using her arms.
Samuel’s hand closed tightly and he grabbed a splintered beam floating by with the other hand. Eliza reached for it with her other hand.
An ocean wave lifted them and they somersaulted in the water, clasped together.
He lost his grip on the wood beam. Eliza still held on to it. Another swell brought it closer and Samuel grasped it again.
The ships must be stuck on the sand bar. Samuel saw they were drifting farther away from the sinking hull of the “Nightflight.”
More booms like thunder sounded. There were calls and Samuel knew the crew and passengers were floating near him in the water.
It happened so fast there was no time to lower a lifeboat.
Now Samuel heard a high pitched squeak. The captain’s dog, Pepper, was crouched and trembling on a pile of floating wood.
Then he reached over to the wood that was carrying Pepper and pulled it toward him.
Samuel’s feet felt something underneath them.
He managed to sink his feet into the sand and steady himself.
“We’re on a sand bar now,” he said. Eliza stretched her feet down and stood on the bottom.
Samuel’s lungs felt tight, his heart pounding hard and fast, his limbs getting tired.
“Over here,” he yelled. “Sandbar. Shore.” He saw others struggling toward the shore.
The bars at the openings of rivers to the sea had fast-shifting sand. The ocean charts were only for guessing.
Yells and calls sounded. People began to get out of the water and onto the beach.
Samuel and Eliza struggled to keep their footing in the moving water. Soon it was waist deep, then they stumbled out and fell down on a beach.
Samuel picked up Pepper and carried the small dog in the crook of his arm.
“We must be near Drift Village,” Samuel said to her. “Town near the river bar. We can get help. In the morning.”
What happened to everyone else on the ships? Samuel’s throat was tight, his heart racing.
Nearby he heard loud voices.
Good. Other people were struggling out of the water and collapsing on the beach.
Exhaustion overtook Samuel and Eliza. The chilly night air cooled their wet limbs.
“Come on. We need to get inland.”
Eliza’s hand felt clammy while he held it. Together they stumbled and crawled into the sand dunes.
They fell and curled up together out of the wind, in the shelter of a dip in the dunes, falling into an exhausted sleep.
Later, Samuel felt the sand underneath and opened his eyes in the dim light of the colorful Dawn sky. Mystical Coast displayed her pastel morning hues overhead while the sun rose on a clear, serene morning.
Flashes of the night poured through Samuel’s mind like water rushing. He saw Eliza begin to stir too.
“We made it.” His voice was raspy.
Eliza’s eyes were wide. She untangled herself from their embrace and stood up. Her head swiveled and she took in the surroundings.
“We need to check on the others,” she said.
They climbed over the dunes and saw people scattered across the beach.
“Eliza!” Two people ran to her with arms outstretched.
“Mama, Papa!” All three clutched each other tightly.
Wisps of fog trailed like shreds of cotton over the ocean and sand. The sky overhead was clearing and the sun rose higher in the east.
“It looks like everyone in the crew and passengers made it to shore,” said a voice nearby.
Samuel recognized Captain Rasmussen, his damp clothing in tatters.
The captain saw Pepper cuddled in Samuel’s arm with his expressive eyes fixed on the captain.
The little dog wiggled and Samuel handed his squirming body over to Captain Rasmussen’s open arms. Pepper snuggled into the arms wrapped around him.
There was no mistaking the affection in the glance the two shared.
Captain Rasmussen nodded toward his ship, the “Nightflight.”
“Her damage can be repaired. She’ll sail again,” he said.
Offshore, the two partly sunken ships rested on the sandbar. They learned against each other, groaning and scraping.
“I trusted this captain,” thought Samuel.
“It was a mistake to cross the bar at night.
Quick changes of weather can happen in minutes.
What was the captain thinking?
Who could you trust?”
Samuel kept his thoughts to himself.
He heard voices yelling, and saw a rescue party coming over the dunes, from Drift Village.
Hours later, Samuel, Eliza, and the other crew and passengers from the ships, rested in the village, wearing dry clothes, sitting by warm flames, drinking hot stew.
Samuel knew he would never be the same again.
He left the lighthouse station a few days ago still a child.
Now he was an adult.
The glow of his sense of wonder still lit his playful, impulsive heart.
But a respect and new sense of awareness also filled him with deeper thoughts and responsibility.
He was no longer a child. But inside his adult thoughts, a child was still there too.
Eliza turned to him and said, “Do you still want to be a ship’s navigator?”
“No,” said Samuel. The sense of wonder and light filled him again.
Eliza looked curiously at the young man.
“Who could you trust?” The words echoed in Samuel’s thoughts.
Samuel’s dreams drifted through his heart and into his mind.
Eliza’s eyes held a shine while she looked at him.
His thoughts and feelings were clear, free of any foggy veils.
“I want to be the captain.”
Then, “Eliza, how would you like to visit a lighthouse?”
Wife’s Secret “Film Career” Ends After A Video Surfaces Of Her Pleasing 2 Guys With Her Caboose
The Colonisation of Hetra – (Part 1)
Written in response to: “Set your story in a world where astrology and the movements of celestial bodies deeply impact the lives of inhabitants.“
Khadija S. Mohammad
She imagined how angry her parents would be with her if she’d been stuck outside of those doors. They were always chiding her on her oversleeping and constantly giving her advice, despite how much she insisted she could look after herself. After all, she was already a month past adulthood.
Coco shifted her colour to suit that of the other nineteen candidates, and adjusted the miniscule monitors on each side of her head. If their language technology didn’t translate as well as the advert said they would, she would be in big trouble. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and steadied the beat of her hearts. Get through the tour without revealing where you come from, and the interview should be a breeze. And then – she barely let herself form the thought – she’d be the first Common to be assigned to The Project.
She opened her eyes and looked around. To her left and right were walls of glass – one-way, the guide said, so the workers on the other side could concentrate – behind which, scientists, architects and engineers worked at building the spaceship that would, hopefully, take them to Hetra. Coco doubted that any real work was being done behind that glass; there were so many reasons why that would be a bad idea. If they were obvious to her, a four-month-old, surely it would be obvious to the experienced scientists that ran the project.
To the front of her was a long white corridor, empty of anything. Coco’s eyes shifted around for any signs of change on the walls. Irrational thoughts of mental torture appeared unbidden in her mind. She shook them out hastily.
She swam with the others along the corridor, clutching her notebook close to her. It was hugely outdated, the pages made from thinly-sliced molt-rock, but she’d been too scared to try a more modern way of taking notes. She had been offered a thought-to-text processor after gaining her chemistry-physics degree, but she’d quickly given it back after testing it once and finding only singular letters appear. She couldn’t risk trying again, since the scientist she’d asked for an explanation from had hinted at the reason for the malfunction being her race. No-one would employ a Common when Cocos were available.
Finally, they entered the first room through the door at the end of the corridor. Coco jostled with the other candidates to get the first glimpse of what was inside.
It was a small room, almost entirely empty, with the same dull white paint as the corridor. When everyone was gathered inside, squashing together, the guide floated upwards so they could all see her, and gestured to the only objects in the room – two circular, inch-tick slices of metal facing each other so the applicants could see the meter-long, seemingly empty space between them.
“This is a sample of the engine that will be used.” The voice came clearly through Coco’s monitors in her own language. She inspected the engine, and realised the empty space was vibrating slightly, shifting.
The guide spoke again. “Can anyone tell me what’s powering this engine?” she asked as if they were school children.
When no-one else attempted to answer, Coco raised a tentative arm. The guide looked at her and nodded.
She cleared her throat. “Hydrated electro-turbulence?” She blushed, painfully aware of her accent. That, if nothing else, would surely give the game away. A pang of guilt for her deceit hit her, but she shoved it away. What she was doing now was the surest way to get her family on board the spaceship when the inhabitants of the city migrated.
The guide smiled. “Correct.” She swam around the engine a few times, describing and explaining features to the candidates before continuing to the next room.
This continued for another hour. Thankfully, Coco managed to hide her monitors and cover her accent enough to avoid detection – or at least, she supposed no-one had discovered her. She hadn’t been picked out of the group, for good or for bad reasons.
Eventually, they separated the candidates, taking them into separate rooms. Coco was shown into a plain room with nothing but a desk with a simple green plant in a plant-pot, and a soft chair on either side. Coco sat down in the nearest chair and stared at the plant, willing it to grow, out of sheer boredom.
Twenty minutes later, an important-looking person in a suit jetted through the door and sat in the other chair. Coco hastily adjusted her colour, and sat up.
The man addressed her without a hint of emotion. “Miss Coco?”
Coco shifted in her seat. “That’s me. Sir,” she added quickly, just in case.
“As you probably know, you are one of twenty young scientists who volunteered to help with our Project.” Coco nodded, unsure what else she should do. “It is my duty to inform you that the time for departure is, according to our astrologists, only three days away. There is minimal work left to be done before the final check. I have been given the task of asking if you still wish to join our Project, given the minor amount of work you will have to do.”
Coco opened her mouth, then closed it quickly. She didn’t have anything to say; to open her mouth in that state would be pure employment suicide.
“But–,” she managed, before shutting herself up. What was she thinking, with the words But I’m a Common on her lips? She’d spent so long trying to cover it up.
The manager – as she had labelled him – smiled, and she relaxed a little. Emotion made him more relatable, which made him less scary. It was ridiculous, with her job, but she had a constant fear as well as awed respect for the unknown.
“I’ll be completely honest with you. The public relations department is aiming for a new angle for publicity, and they’ve decided to admit to their ‘abominable acts’ and become ‘more diverse and inclusive’, as the message from the press will doubtless say. We’ve decided to open the Project to Commons, if they are intelligent enough. As little as that will help us, in these late days.”
Coco’s mouth fell. How did they know? Maybe it was her name? Don’t Cocos name their children after the city?
The manager laughed gently. “It’s not that we don’t name our children after our city. We don’t name them after our race. It’s the same thing, but there’s a difference.”
Coco’s mouth opened wider. Can he read my mind?
“No, but you seem to have a habit of thinking out loud when your mouth is open.”
Coco blushed.
Skillet Chicken with Cheddar Mushroom Sauce
Yield: 6 servings
Ingredients
- 1 1/2 pounds boneless skinless chicken
- 1 teaspoon kosher salt, divided
- 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
- 1/2 cup King Arthur All-Purpose Flour
- 4 teaspoons extra-virgin olive oil
- 8 ounces sliced mushrooms
- 1 cup finely chopped leeks, white and pale green part only, washed
- 1/2 teaspoon chopped rosemary
- 1/2 teaspoon dry thyme
- 1/2 cup dry white wine
- 2 cups reduced-sodium chicken broth
- 3 tablespoons Cabot Light Sour Cream
- 1 cup Cabot Seriously Sharp Cheddar, shredded
- Chopped fresh parsley or chives for garnish (optional)
Instructions
- Remove chicken tenders from breast meat if necessary. Place breasts between two sheets of plastic wrap or inside a re-sealable plastic bag. Pound to even thickness with the smooth side of a meat mallet. Remove chicken from the plastic or bag and sprinkle 1/2 teaspoon salt and pepper all over the chicken and tenders.
- Place flour in a shallow dish and dredge chicken in the flour, until coated, shaking off excess and setting aside. Reserve 3 tablespoons cup left-over flour mixture and discard the remainder.
- Heat oil in a large heavy skillet over medium high heat. When oil is shimmering, but not smoking, add chicken to skillet and cook until browned on both sides, 2 to 4 minutes per side. Transfer chicken to a plate. Note chicken will continue cooking in step 7.
- Add mushrooms, leeks, rosemary, thyme and the remaining 1/2 teaspoon salt to the skillet, and cook, stirring until the mushrooms have released their juices and evaporated and the leeks and mushrooms are starting to brown slightly, 4 to 6 minutes.
- Add wine, increase heat to high, and cook scraping up any browned bits until the wine has almost completely evaporated, 1 to 3 minutes.
- Sprinkle the reserved 3 tablespoons flour over the mushroom mixture and stir to coat. Stir in broth and stir until the flour is dissolved. Bring to a simmer, stirring often, 2 to 3 minutes. Continue cooking until the sauce is thickened slightly, about 1 minute.
- Return the chicken and any accumulated juices from the plate to the skillet and return to a simmer. Reduce heat to medium-low and simmer, turning the chicken over in the sauce occasionally until the chicken is no longer pink in the center and is cooked through, 5 to 7 minutes longer.
- Transfer chicken to serving platter.
- Remove skillet from heat and stir light sour cream and cheddar into the sauce until the cheese is melted.
- Spoon the sauce over the chicken and serve. Garnish with parsley or chives if desired.
Attribution
Recipe and photo used with permission from: Cabot Creamery Co-operative
Recipe courtesy of Katie Webster.
After Insulting Men For Years, Disney Now Wants Them Back
Stop giving your money to people who hate you.
Sir Whiskerton and the Animal Protection Officer Returns
Or: When Genghis Tries to Frame Catnip—and Chaos Ensues
Introduction
Ah, dear reader, prepare for a tale of mischief, mistruths, and mayhem. Today’s story begins with the unexpected return of the animal protection officer—a figure whose visits always send ripples through Sir Whiskerton’s farm. But this time, things take a twist when Genghis, the self-proclaimed kingpin of the barnyard cats, tries to frame Catnip the Stray Cat for mistreating the animals.
As accusations fly and tempers flare, Sir Whiskerton steps in to uncover the truth, proving once again that lies always come to light—and honesty remains the best policy.
So grab your notepad (and perhaps a cup of tea), as we dive into Sir Whiskerton and the Animal Protection Officer Returns.
Act 1: The Officer Arrives
The farm was unusually quiet when the animal protection officer arrived, clipboard in hand and whistle gleaming ominously.
“Well, well,” the officer said, surveying the scene. “Who’s causing trouble now?”
Sir Whiskerton adjusted his monocle diplomatically. “Take your pick—Genghis or Catnip. Or both.”
Before anyone could respond, Genghis strutted forward, his gold chain jingling dramatically.
“Officer!” he declared, pointing a paw at Catnip. “That rascal has been terrorizing the animals! He’s unfit to share this noble barnyard!”
Catnip lounged lazily on the fence, flicking his tail dismissively. “Me? Terrorizing? Please. I’m just here for the catnip.”
Lester, Clyde, and Loomis—Genghis’s loyal lackeys—nodded vigorously in agreement.
“Yes, Boss! It’s true!” Lester cried.
“Uh… what did he say?” Clyde asked, scratching his head.
“What he said!” Loomis echoed, pointing at Lester.
The officer raised an eyebrow. “This sounds serious. Let’s investigate.”
Act 2: The Framing Scheme
Genghis had spent days planning his scheme. Under the cover of darkness, he’d “staged” evidence against Catnip: a trail of suspiciously shredded hay, a few overturned feed bins, and even a fake claw mark on the scarecrow’s hat.
“This is foolproof,” Genghis muttered to himself, smirking. “Catnip will be banished, and I’ll rule unopposed!”
But Sir Whiskerton, ever the observant detective, noticed something odd about the so-called evidence.
“Hmm,” he mused, inspecting the claw marks. “These look… suspiciously deliberate. And why does this hay smell like Genghis’s cologne?”
Meanwhile, Catnip lounged nearby, clearly unconcerned.
“You know,” he drawled, “if they’re looking for troublemakers, they should start with the guy wearing a gold chain and talking like a mob boss.”
Act 3: The Investigation
The officer conducted interviews with the farm animals, each offering their own perspective:
- Doris the Hen: “I saw Genghis sneaking around last night. He looked… shifty.”
- Porkchop the Pig: “Catnip? Nah, he’s too busy eating garbage to cause real trouble.”
- Rufus the Radioactive Dog: “Honestly, I think they’re both guilty. Can I go back to napping?”
Sir Whiskerton presented his findings calmly. “Officer, the evidence points to Genghis attempting to frame Catnip. The claw marks are too neat, and the hay smells like his cologne. Plus, Lester, Clyde, and Loomis have a habit of agreeing with everything he says—even if it’s nonsense.”
The officer nodded thoughtfully. “Very well. Let’s confront him.”
Act 4: The Truth Comes to Light
Cornered, Genghis tried one last desperate attempt to save face.
“It’s all a misunderstanding!” he protested, his voice cracking. “I was just… protecting the farm!”
Sir Whiskerton sighed. “Genghis, your plan was clever—but dishonesty never works in the long run.”
The officer scribbled notes on her clipboard. “Genghis, you’re officially on probation. No more scheming—or I’ll have to revoke your ‘kingpin’ privileges.”
Genghis gasped. “My privileges?! But I’m the ruler of this barnyard!”
“No,” Sir Whiskerton corrected. “You’re just a cat with a gold chain.”
Catnip smirked, stretching lazily. “Guess that means I win by default.”
Reflection Scene
As the dust settled, Sir Whiskerton gathered the animals for a moment of reflection.
“Today taught us an important lesson,” he began, sipping a cup of moonlit tea. “Lies always come to light, no matter how cleverly they’re hidden. Honesty is the best policy—not just because it’s right, but because it saves everyone a lot of trouble.”
Genghis adjusted his collar sheepishly. “I may have… overstepped.”
“You think?” Rufus muttered under his breath.
Even Chef Remy LeRaccoon joined in, holding a tray of suspiciously glowing snacks.
“These are Integrity Muffins™,” he announced proudly. “Guaranteed to promote honesty—or indigestion!”
The animals exchanged wary glances but couldn’t help laughing.
Post-Credit Scene
Later that evening, Genghis sat atop a hay bale, polishing his gold chain obsessively.
“You know,” Lester ventured cautiously, “maybe the chain isn’t what makes you special.”
Genghis paused, considering this. “Nonsense. Of course it is.”
Clyde scratched his head. “Uh… what did he say?”
“What he said!” Loomis echoed, pointing at Lester.
Genghis sighed dramatically. “Sometimes, I wonder why I keep you three around.”
Moral of the Story
Lies always come to light; honesty is the best policy.
Best Lines
- “Take your pick—Genghis or Catnip. Or both.” – Sir Whiskerton, summing up the chaos.
- “I’m just here for the catnip.” – Catnip, ever nonchalant.
- “You’re just a cat with a gold chain.” – Sir Whiskerton, cutting through Genghis’s ego.
Key Jokes
- Genghis’s elaborate framing scheme backfires hilariously.
- Sir Whiskerton’s dry commentary adds wit to the investigation.
- Chef Remy’s glowing muffins spark both curiosity and concern.
Starring
- Genghis (Self-Proclaimed Kingpin/Schemer Extraordinaire)
- Catnip the Stray Cat (Accused Rascal/Relaxed Observer)
- Sir Whiskerton (Voice of Reason/Detective Extraordinaire)
- Animal Protection Officer (Unimpressed Investigator)
- Chef Remy LeRaccoon (Mad Scientist of Snacks)
Summaries
- Moral: Lies always come to light; honesty is the best policy.
- Future Potential: Could Genghis learn humility after this incident? Or will Chef Remy invent edible chains next?
Until next time, may your truths be bold and your schemes transparent. 🐾
Iran Just Destroyed America’s Only Underwater Drone Base — The Persian Gulf Is Now Iranian Water
What made Germany think they could defeat the biggest empires in the world in WW1 (Britain, France, Russia)?
Four things:
- Prussia had defeated France in the Franco-Prussian War. Speed was the key element and the Germans wanted to do it all over again by going trough Belgium. They assumed, wrongly so, Belgium would not fight. The plan was to take Paris in 42 days and knock France out of the War.
- Knocking France out of the War means the BEF can non longer be supplied which would have forced a surrender or a withdrawal.
- France was a food exporter. With France out of the War and providing the Germans with food, a British naval blockade would have been highly ineffective.
- Mobilization depended mainly on railroad transport and Russia had a very poor railroad network. The idea was to move most troops to the Eastern Front after France fell and attack before Russia could fully mobilize. Knock Russia out of the War with no more Western Front would surely have been a realistic scenario.
This was the basic concept of Blitzkrieg: fight fierce but short campaigns in close succession rather than a large war on multiple front. Von Schlieffen was actually the first to come up with this concept and he even called it Blitzkrieg back in the late 19th century.
Now in this scenario, Britain and its Empire would not have been able to mount an amphibious landing Normandy Style because of a lack of landing craft. With the naval blockade being ineffective, it was reasonable to assume Britain would make peace.
Surely Britain would not continue the fight in the Balkans as they had no interests there.
The overall plan was sound.
The only major miscalculation was that Belgium did fight instead of allowing the Germans to cross freely. This bought the Allies the time needed to stabilize the Western Front and prevent the Germans from taking Paris quickly.
The German Eagle can’t pass the Belgian Lion.
Pictures
What is an insane coincidence that you’ve experienced?
I was born and grew up in the UK from an Italian family. I was in my last year at British high school and my family was due to relocate to Italy at the end of the school term, after I had given my O level exams. In the winter, a school trip to a ski resort in the Italian Dolomites (Andalo) was organised for the class. I didn’t go because my family was busy preparing for the actual relocation. My classmates went, including one from Hong Kong called Peter. When they returned, Peter came up to me and swore at me in Italian. He then told me that they had met some Italian guys there who had got them drunk and taught them lots of Italian swear words. “Oh nice”, I said. Fast forward some months and we had moved to Southern Italy, almost as far as you can get from the Dolomites and still be in Italy. I went to a private school because back then, the British O levels had no value in Italy and high school ended at 18, not at 16 as it was in the UK. There was a rich kid there from a not very recommendable family and he told me about his previous winter’s skiing trip to the Dolomites and how they had met some British kids who they had got drunk and taught swear words to, and especially about this Asian kid called Peter… I’m still shocked about this coincidence!!
What’s the dumbest thing you’ve seen someone do out of anger?
Those under 40 years of age may not be able to relate.
Back when we used to get TV programs from radio waves broadcast through the air, we needed antenna on top of the TV to get the signal, just like most radio still does today.
I watched my girlfriend’s Dad playing with the antenna to find just the right sweet spot for the best signal, and pounding on the top of the TV to try to get the picture to come in clearer.
It kept going back and forth between no signal (white noise with no picture and roaring sound) and partial signal (fuzzy picture and static/partial voice sound).
The longer this went on, the worse it got, and the harder he pounded on the top of the TV.
After about 10 minutes of this he finally just walked out of the room.
We all looked at each other in wonder.
What is he doing?
He came back in the room with a framer’s hammer.
He didn’t say a word.
He walked over to the TV and he began to smash it into a thousand pieces in the living room.
Then he announced to us all that he was going out to buy another TV, and he left the house.
Why do some people believe the US is losing the tariff war, and what are the main signs that support this view?
What tariff war? You mean trump deciding to cripple the citizens of the usa with new import taxes across the board for them to pay? Meanwhile the rest of the world are happily making new trade deals that excludes the usa meaning the demand for non essential goods from the usa. This will boost the rest of the world’s economy and long term put the usa in real trouble with a dramatic drop in exports and finding it harder to find people to buy raw materials that they need from.
So yip donny taco is only destroying the usa but hey those turkies voted for thanksgiving so suck it up and learn to do without. You don’t need frivolous things like food, electricity, cars etc.
The Mismatch
Written in response to: “Set your story in a world where astrology and the movements of celestial bodies deeply impact the lives of inhabitants.“
K.A. Murray
It was rude, but I forgave her. Artists weren’t as good as Planners at social niceties. “I haven’t. Is everything -”
Alice was running away before I could say another word. Everything clearly was not all right.
2-Virgo
Today I was out on Main Street, assigned to grocery delivery, so I saw Alice run by. I didn’t think much about it; Artists were a little nutty, and me and Alice weren’t that close. The nearer we all got to A&S, the more entrenched we became in our future lives, in the ways we’d serve our community for the rest of our days.
I liked to serve others. I was a Helper, so that went along with my identity. It matched well. My dad was a Helper, too.
“Vaughn, it’s the best life,” he said. “We get to help keep our community strong.”
It was nice, having a parent with the same identity, which didn’t happen for everyone. Everything about your life – your job, where you lived, who you were matched with for marriage – depended on the day you were born. Dad and I both had early September birthdays, which meant he’d had my whole life to tell me everything about being a Helper.
“It’s an identity that lets you mix it up a little, too,” he said. “Mom can’t do that.”
He was right. Mom was a Healer, and their jobs were pretty straightforward. Being a Helper, you could wash windows one day, deliver food the next, and work in the community garden the day after that.
I liked delivery days. It was nice, especially on a sunny day like today, to be out walking. I had to rush a little that morning – there’d been a delay at the Hive, people scurrying around to find some missing supplies. When I got to the next family unit – all the buildings for families with children in a cohort were on Main Street – I began to stack the crates of food, all neatly labelled by other Helpers, inside the front lobby.
“Vaughn?”
I turned. It was my older brother Alec, jogging over, grinning.
“Alec!” I put out my hand, but he pushed it away and pulled me into a headlock, laughing. It was great to see him. He was a Leader, one of the busiest identities, and once people were ensconced in their roles, it was impossible to maintain ties with your original family unit. My buddy Abe from my cohort is a Leader, too, and he tells me he hasn’t seen his older brother at all since he became a Trader.
“How’ve you been?” Alec asked after he released me.
We’d been chatting for a few minutes when I noticed Alec’s eyes narrow. I followed his gaze.
The last crate I’d stacked had something sticking out of the top – the corner of a light pink envelope. If messages needed to be communicated from the Leaders, an envelope might be included in the person’s family delivery.
“That’s for my buddy Christopher’s unit,” I said. I knew it was, because the crate was larger than the others. When Christopher was a kid, he was diagnosed with diabetes, and his medication was delivered weekly along with his family’s food supply – that’s why their crate was bigger.
I pressed gently on the pink envelope so that it was concealed inside the crate, as it should have been all along.
Alec nodded. He looked uneasy.
“You okay?”
“Yeah – great seeing you, Vaughn, I gotta run.” He started to walk away, but turned back. “Vaughn?”
“Yeah?”
“Be careful.”
Alec was gone before I could ask him anything. He was disturbed by the envelope, clearly, but I saw them often when I was packing crates.
Though, when I paused to consider, I realized I’d never seen a pink one before.
I continued my delivery route and tried not to worry about Chris.
3-Sagitarrius
As a Historian, I was the person in our cohort with the best understanding of our community’s history, but we all knew the story.
“Once upon a time, all the people in our little mountain town gathered to view a total solar eclipse – a moment when the moon fully obscures the sun,” my mother told me. “Few of us had ever seen one before.”
The moment of totality was supposed to last three minutes, but our community watched and waited while the sun remained obscured for ten minutes, then twenty – then thirty-six minutes exactly.
“They knew it was a miracle,” my mother said. “When it was over, they reached out to other communities – and it was our town, only, that had the thirty-six minute totality, so they knew it had to mean something.”
Our community’s leaders decided it meant that we were special – that we needed to radically change the way we were living our lives, to align with the cosmos.
“That’s when it all happened, Sarah,” my mother said. “When we started to live the way we live.”
4-Scorpio
My birthday is November 7, meaning after A&S, I’ll be an Engineer. I’m pumped. When I was a kid, I was super into blocks, then Legos, forts, model rockets. I’m sure my folks encouraged it, knowing when my birthday was, but it always felt like a natural thing for me – like everything was exactly as it should be.
The funny thing was, once I started hanging with the Engineer crew – they live in the Empire, the tallest building in our town – I saw that it wasn’t such a clear-cut thing for everyone.
Like this one guy, he’s an okay engineer, but it doesn’t come as naturally to him. He likes the design part, but sometimes I catch him writing in his journal instead of working on blueprints. His birthday is November 21, so if he’d been born a day later, he’d be a Historian like my friend Sarah from my cohort. It makes me wonder why we don’t have exceptions for guys like him, so they could feel as good about what they do as I do. I said something to Sarah about it once.
Her voice was quiet when she answered. “It’s been this way for a hundred years, Spencer. It’s not going to change.”
5-Pisces
Even before the Great Totality, our community was deeply connected with the motion of celestial bodies.
We’re nestled away in the mountains of North Carolina, in a spot where on a clear night you can see thousands of stars. Of course, our ancestors were always looking up to the sky for signs and guidance. But back then, people like me and my fellow Pisces were outliers. There would be a Mystic who lived alone, with visitors coming to them for advice, but many people were skeptical about their actual abilities.
That’s not so now. We Mystics are revered. Lots of young people wish to live the life of a Taurus – their living space is certainly enviable – but ours is lovely as well. A huge round building with an enormous central courtyard and rooftop deck, both of which are perfect for reading the stars.
Our final year before A&S is spent mostly in training, preparing to live and work within our identity. I’ve loved having the chance to actually read the stars myself.
However, recently, I’ve observed strangeness in the sky. The positioning of Saturn and the brightness of Jupiter have caused me concern for the Capricorn I know best: Christopher from my cohort. I asked my Mystic mentor if I should warn him.
She looked through my telescope and frowned. “Who is the boy, Phoebe?”
I explained.
“You cannot warn him,” she said. “It is already written in the stars what comes next. But -”
I waited.
“Be a friend. He’ll need it.”
6-Leo
There’s a gazebo in our town square, and that’s where we Performers put on our shows. When we’re rehearsing like we are today, the vibe is casual. Sometimes people stop and watch, but sometimes they ignore us so they can enjoy the show on the official performance night.
My identity matched me perfectly; I’ve always been the class clown of our cohort. After A&S tomorrow, I’d do a performance as the lead actor for the first time ever, but right now, I was waiting outside the gazebo for my cue.
That’s why I was in the perfect position to see two things.
First Alice, catching her breath – had she been running? – and gazing around at the faces in the crowd, looking helpless.
Then, down the alley between the Clinic and the Archery, my buddy Christopher. He was slipping into a side door of the Clinic, rather than the main doors out front.
Why?
I heard my cue, walked on stage, and set the question aside for later.
7-Cancer
If you’re a Healer, you live and work in a place known as the Clinic. We bunk in cots, and our living spaces are tiny. It doesn’t matter to any of us – we’re constantly working, and we all love that. Being a Healer is the most rewarding and important identity in our community. No one but us has access to the medicines that keep our citizens well.
I was in a storage room organizing when I heard my name.
I turned around. Christopher looked terrible – circles under his eyes and cuts along his cheeks.
“Coraline,” he said. “I need help.”
I was surprised. “Of course, Chris. What can I do?”
He explained.
8-Gemini
Our cohort’s had its share of conflict, especially as we’ve all gotten older, but that’s to be expected. Every cohort consists of twelve kids who are grouped together when they’re toddlers. It’s nice because you get to grow up with one person from each identity. Then, when the entire cohort reaches the age of seventeen, we have A&S, when we advance and separate according to our astrological sign. The conflicts are natural in a group with all the identities mixed together.
It’s been the worst between Christopher and Abe. They leave the rest of us out of it, but they get heated sometimes. Since I’m good at seeing both sides of an argument, sometimes I’d mediate. “Back off, Gilbert,” someone would say, and I’d stop. There was no point, anyway; they’d never be good friends.
I’ve always felt bad for Christopher. The diabetes thing sucks – if he exerts himself, his blood sugar can get out of whack, so he’s had some scary moments when we’ve been out hiking. He can’t carry extra food or medicine, because everything’s distributed by the Leaders, and I know that drives him nuts.
Plus, there’s the whole Mismatch thing.
Being a Gemini means I’m a Variant – I can move between identities, spend years as an Artist and then switch and work as an Engineer. Many of us don’t do that – we find our niche and stay there – but we have the option, and it would help if Christopher had options. He’s a Mismatch, and we all know it – a Trader, like all Capricorns are, who should have been born Pisces or Aquarius. He’s a spiritual, artistic guy who’s going to spend his life dealing with money and making purchases for the community.
There’s no other option.
9-Taurus
Everyone in my cohort experienced Taurus envy at some point. We’re Entrepreneurs, so we’ve got a living/working space set up to inspire – espresso machines, skateboard ramps, white walls to sketch out ideas on. It’s awesome.
I’m considered a prodigy because of the invention I came up with during my training year. Our Capricorn, Christopher, was especially impressed.
“It’s a navigation system that guides you through our mountains – like, if we ever ran out and needed to send a group for supplies, all they’d need was this.” I showed him the prototype. The device was tiny – the size of a matchbox – which was the coolest thing about it.
It would be mass produced eventually by a team of Helpers, but the Leaders let me keep the prototype. Abe – my best friend in the cohort – advised me to keep it locked away.
“Someone might steal it,” he said one day last week.
That’s why I thought of Abe right away this morning, when I found the locked drawer of my bedside table busted open. The device was gone.
10-Aries
No one was more excited for Advancement & Separation than me. I’m done with this cohort. Especially Christopher.
I do feel bad for him, and I understand how hard things are for him, because my older brother Cam was a Mismatch too. He was definitely never meant to be a Trader. Maybe a Planner or a Helper. Being a Trader was for people who were serious, who preferred numbers to conversations, and that wasn’t Cam.
It was actually stuff about Cam that really ruined things for me with Christopher. For the past year, he’s been asking questions – about Cam’s childhood, asking if I’ve seen him, acting like it’s weird that he’s never met him.
“I’m with the Traders every day, Abe,” he said on a cohort hike last week. “Don’t you think I should’ve met him by now?”
It meant nothing. “He’s probably got a special assignment,” I told Christopher. “Cam’s awesome.”
“Of course he is,” he replied. “But don’t you think -”
“I think you better watch your mouth before you make any more comments about my brother,” I said.
He went silent.
Now it’s the day before A&S. I haven’t seen him all day today. After the ceremony and party tomorrow, I might never see him again like Cam. But while I miss my brother so much it hurts, I’ll be glad not to see Christopher again.
11-Aquarius
I couldn’t find Christopher anywhere, and so I stopped in the town square and sat on a bench near the gazebo. Before long, Coraline came, and we watched Lester take a bow and then hop off stage to join us. I heard enthusiastic applause and noticed that the entire cohort – everyone but Abe, who was chatting with some other Leaders by the Clinic – had gathered to cheer for Les.
We’ve been together for fifteen years. We squabble and we make up, and we care about each other.
“Saw you running, Alice,” Vaughn said. Lester nodded; maybe he’d seen me from the stage. “What’s up?”
I shrugged, trying to not look frantic. “I can’t find Christopher,” I said. “He was supposed to meet me this morning and he didn’t show.”
There was a slight shift in Coraline’s face – imperceptible to someone who didn’t know her like I did.
“Well, I’m pretty sure he broke into my things this morning,” Travers said, “so he’s probably out on a hike. Getting some fresh air before he gets locked away with the Traders grinding numbers.”
My eyes went to Phoebe. I’m not a Pisces, but Artists can be as perceptive as Mystics, and I saw her face darken with worry.
“What’s the problem?” Gilbert asked. “So he went for a hike and did some petty crime. He’ll give it back, Trav.”
Abe had spotted us and was walking our way. I tried to keep my voice calm. “Don’t say anything you just said to Abe,” I whispered. When Travers began to protest, I cut him off. “Trav, have you ever met or heard of an adult Mismatch?”
He wasn’t expecting the question. None of them were. Christopher had only shared his fears and discoveries with me.
“They don’t exist,” I whispered. “We don’t know what happens to them. But I think -” I looked at Coraline. “He came to you, didn’t he? You gave him – what he needed?”
She nodded.
“What did he need?” Sarah asked.
I shushed them. We all smiled pleasantly at Abe as he approached.
12-Capricorn
It wasn’t just the prototype of Travers’ navigation system that I’d stolen. I’d also snagged his binoculars.
I watched them all – Travers, Gilbert. Coraline, who’d risked everything to smuggle me insulin and glucose tablets. Lester, Vaughn, Lynette, Spencer, Sarah, Alice, Phoebe.
Abe.
There was no doubt in my mind that his brother Cam was dead. How and why, I didn’t understand, but I had no intention of waiting to solve the mystery of what happened to Mismatches.
Thanks to the cohort, I was prepared for this endeavor. I had Travers’ device, Lynette’s planning skills, and I knew how Phoebe read the stars. That’s what was beautiful about our community – the cohorts, and the people. What was terrifying was everything else.
I watched them for one more moment. Then I hopped down from the tree, and ran as fast as I could away from everything I’d ever known.
Def Leppard • Hysteria // Jennifer Connelly • Career Opportunities
What were the strengths and weaknesses of the FW-190D model compared to its earlier versions and Allied fighters like the P-51 Mustang and Spitfire Mk XIV?
The Fw 190’s with the BMW 801 engine had a poor altitude performance because the current BMW supercharger was nothing special and BMW were taking too long to get their superb turbocharger sorted out.
In the meantime the Germans were well aware that the USAAC were intending to send over fleets of high altitude B17’s
So Kurt Tank, the Fw190 designer had to look at other engines that performed at altitude. He tried the big DB 603 with a turbocharger, but it was just about impossible to get all the plumbing into the relatively compact 190 airframe and the performance of the Fw190B/C was not great
There were two German companies making V12 engines at this time. Daimler Benz and Jumo. At the start of the war the Jumo 210 was considered to be inferior to the DB 601 and was relegated to bombers.
But Jumo were determined to beat Daimler Benz and their much more powerful Jumo 213 with mechanical supercharging could be fitted into a Fw 190 with much better streamlining. Note the characteristic Jumo annular radiator which looks like a radial installation, but you can see the line of exhausts as well.
Kurt Tank had not been keen on Jumo engines, but the “Langnasen-Dora” proved to be a very effective fighter at all altitudes.
Jumo went on to develop the Jumo 213J which replaced the earlier model’s three valves with a new four-valve-per-cylinder design for better breathing. It was also to have had a two-stage three-speed supercharger, producing 2,350 hp (1,750 kW; 2,380 PS) at 3700 rpm for take-off. That made for a very long nose in the Focke Wulf TA 152
So the Fw190D’s strength was that it was a very good fighter at all altitudes. In it’s time it was arguably the best fighter in the world so not many weaknesses!
And BMW finally sorted out their turbocharged 801TJ – note the aluminium panels of the air cooled intercoolers between the engine and the turbocharger.
But it was so big that it ended up in bombers.
14.6K views
Sautéed Chicken with Spicy Peach Sauce
Yield: 4 to 6 servings
Ingredients
- 1/4 cup Challenge Butter
- 4 boneless, skinless chicken breast portions* (2 whole breasts, 1 1/2 to 2 pounds total)
- 2 teaspoons minced or pressed garlic
- 2 teaspoons cornstarch
- 1/3 cup balsamic vinegar
- 3 tablespoons granulated sugar
- 1/4 teaspoon ground red pepper
- 1 1/2 teaspoons chili powder
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 2 cups peeled diced fresh or frozen peaches
- 1/3 cup toasted walnut halves
- 4 to 5 cups cooked basmati rice
Instructions
- Separate the tender portion on the back of each breast piece and cut the remaining breast portions in half.
- Melt butter in large skillet over medium heat. Add chicken pieces and garlic and sauté until chicken pieces are golden brown on both sides. Remove chicken and set aside.
- Combine cornstarch with butter remaining in skillet. Stir in vinegar, sugar, salt, red pepper, chili powder and peaches. Continue to cook over medium heat until thickened and bubbly.
- Return chicken pieces to the pan and add walnuts. Stir to coat chicken pieces with sauce and continue cooking until chicken pieces are no longer pink inside.
- To serve, place chicken pieces on a bed of cooked rice and spoon the peach walnut sauce over the top.
Notes
* Substitute 1 1/2 to 2 pounds chicken tenders or boned thighs.
Attribution
Recipe and photo used with permission from: Challenge Dairy
What celebrity made you go “wow”?
1960s Twiggy.
When I first saw her I actually did a triple-take, and was awestruck. I mean… how is it possible to be this good looking??? And no photoshop, fillers or work done, mind you. I watched a documentary recently (BBC iPlayer if anyone is interested) and she recounted how in the above photoshoot, she had literally just her hair cut short by a hairdresser then turned up to a modelling audition. Previously she was told she’ll never be a model because she was too thin (the irony!) and flat chested. In this shoot, the short hair and her tecnique of wearing triple eyelashes on top, and drawing on the lower lashes really made the difference this time.
In my youth, I used to paint (although I wasn’t very good), was a model’s photographer for a time, and now I can count Twiggy for reigniting my pursuit of art. She’s my original muse – the reason I decided to learn how to draw after lockdown.
In to Get Out
Written in response to: “Write a story in which a character navigates using the stars.“
Jacqueline R
Despite her abysmal appearance, her serine face was concentrated. Brows creased as whatever powers mingled with her thoughts.
He knew better than to interrupt a Kristl during their…process.
It still boggled him that a week ago she was his prisoner. Now, her soul was tied to the ship- his ship, no less. She could never part from it and neither could he.
He was still uncertain how the Emporer would react. He had specifically ordered a live Kristl be brought back- which he was doing- but there was no way to separate her from the ship without dire consequences. Would the Emporer have him killed off and commandeer his ship? He had been faithful and loyal to the Empire his entire life and this was his reward? Besides, it wasn’t his fault she’d been bound to the ship; it was an accident! If it hadn’t been for those bloody pirates-
“I can hear you thinking from here, Captain Forge,” she said, cutting off his thoughts.
With a quick shake of his head, he emptied his mind. He should know better than to think too much around a Kristl. He wasn’t aware of the full extent of their powers, and while reading thoughts wasn’t confirmed, he wouldn’t cross it off the list of things that they could do.
He approached her, careful to keep a respectful distance, but not wanting to show that he feared her. “How’s my ship doing?” he asked.
With her eyes still closed, she said, “She’s doing what she can. The pirates did a number on her.”
He ground his teeth. “Aye, no need to remind me, we were all there.”
She blinked her eyes open, revealing faintly glowing irises that matched the ship’s core crystal blue hue. “Is there something else on your mind, Captain?”
He swallowed, hating how weak he would sound. “It appears after the pirate attack the wind shifted us off course and in the confusion we never noticed. We’re in Azar territory now.”
She blinked, the only reaction of surprise she’d show.
“I don’t know much about this place, but I do believe that you’re the expert.”
She let out a soft sigh and got to her feet. “Much like a butcher’s shop, if I were a cow, I wouldn’t want to stay very long.”
She was young, even by Kristl standards, but they all spoke in odd ways. Still, he had seen the power she had wielded against the pirates. There was something formidable and terrible within her. She knew things and was taught things that any sane person would never be able to fully comprehend. The Azar territory was full of those same cryptic and elusive things.
He chose his next words carefully. “The Azar isn’t a normal place, surely you know that?”
“What is normal?”
He ground his teeth and tried again. “There are things out there that I do not understand-”
“Maybe try again to understand them.”
“-things that I was never taught. Things that you understand, however, and can guide the ship through.” he finished.
She tilted her head. “You’re lost, Captain Forge.”
“Yes, I’m bloody lost!” he exploded. “I need you to get your ass upstairs and guide the helmsman out of here!”
She giggled at his outburst. “Now was that so hard to ask?” she remarked, stepping past him.
Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. If he didn’t need her alive, he might have thrown her overboard a week ago. He turned and followed before she reached the top deck.
Outside, the cool night air touched his skin, and the familiar wood and crystal core scents were replaced by what he could only describe as the color blue engulfed him. The ship sails bent at awkward angles as if the wind was coming from multiple directions. Something howled in the distance and his hand instinctively went to the handle of his saber.
“It’s alright Captain. The Abyss Whale is far away and hasn’t scented us,” she said.
He relaxed, but only slightly, and watched as she examined the surrounding sky.
He had spent years aboard this ship. The Wolf was his home, and he’d learned very quickly from a young age to read the stars. They were a map, always pointing him where to go, and showing him exactly where he was.
The Azar sky was nothing like the stars he was used to.
It was as if someone had taken a giant paintbrush and smeared water across the night sky. Shades of dark blue mixed with black, and flecks of the remaining stars tilted and swirled among the mixture. It was beautiful, and he had to force himself not to stare at the wonderful, awful, and mesmerizing texture that had ruined his familiar sky. He had already sent most of his crew below deck simply because they were unable to fight the hypnotizing state it put them in.
The Kristl blinked up at the stars, then shifted her gaze to the stars below the starboard side. She counted silently on her fingers and then looked up again. Just when he thought it was a lost cause she announced, “Hmm, it appears the wind is upside down, Captain.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
She looked up to where the helmsman stood. “Flip the sails upside down then sail backwards,” she stated like it was something he should know. “It’ll take us forward and further in.”
“Wait, wait.” He shook his head. “We don’t want to go further in, we want to get out.”
“Mhmm. We get out by going in.”
“That doesn’t make any sense!”
She giggled again and climbed the stairs to get to the helmsman. “When does it ever?”
He ground his teeth and climbed the stairs after her. If only those bloody pirates had never shown up, he wouldn’t be in this situation right now!
Upon reaching the helmsman- Mr. Redsmith- she ordered, “Flip the ship upside down.”
The older gentleman’s weathered and cautious face glanced to the Captain. “I thought you wanted the sails upside down?”
“Turning the ship is easier,” she answered.
“Do as she says,” grunted Forge.
Mr. Redsmith swallowed, but swung the wheel of the ship and everything violently tilted.
The Kristl placed her slender hand on the railing and a second later Forge felt his balance return. While everything spun, gravity remained solid within the ship. The only indication that they were flipping upside down was the violent whirlpool that was the night sky.
The ship leveled out a moment later.
“Take us in, Mr. Redsmith,” she ordered.
After another reassuring nod from the Captain, the helmsman obeyed. Almost instantly the sails caught a gust of wind and the ship lurched forward. If it hadn’t been for the Kristl keeping gravity working Forge was sure he would have been knocked off his feet.
After a few minutes of the wind steadily pushing The Wolf forward, Forge asked, “How long till we’re out?”
She shrugged her gaze focused on the stars. “It’ll be when we’re out.” With her free hand, she grabbed the wheel only to turn the ship slightly. Another gust of wind took the sails.
He ground his teeth and prayed he wasn’t putting his hope in a mad person.
The same thing howled again, this time sounding closer.
“The smell of fear is powerful. Don’t let it draw the Abyss Whale closer,” she commented.
Captain Forge had never seen an Abyss Whale and he didn’t want to find out. At least not while they were still in the Azar while The Wolf needed repairs. The crystal gunnery wasn’t damaged, but the Core itself couldn’t sustain the kind of power that the blasters needed. Forge didn’t feel like blowing up his ship, so he calmed his nerves. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a few deep breaths.
He could have sworn he had his eyes closed for only a few seconds, but when he opened them the ship was the right way up and sailing free of the terrible Azar night sky. When had the ship righted itself?
While relief and gratitude at seeing the real sky flooded him, he glanced at the Kristl with a new weariness in his apprehension of her.
She smiled boldly at him. “In to get out,” she simply said.
He realized then that so long as she was on his vessel he’d never escape crazy.
The Moon Landing Was a LIE.. And This Finally Proves It | Joe Rogan
How will the fuel shortages in Russia impact the war in Ukraine?
Probably not as much as you’d hope.
Queue for fuel in Russia
Of course it’s deeply ironic that Russia, once the worlds’ largest producer of oil, has fuel shortagest due to the war in Ukraine. It’s humbling too, to see Ukraine bring Russia down so badly. But don’t expect the damage to the economy or the war effort to be particularily severe. Russia has long since lost the ability of maneuver warfare and what they’re doing now, small but constant probing attacks with occasional pushes akin to going over the top in World War 1, don’t require that much fuel to begin with.
Neither can you expect the Russian public to turn against the war because they now have to wait in queues to fuel up and go without on occasion. They are annoyed and would wish to see it end sure, but not badly enough for riots to start. The fuel situation is nowhere near bad enough to cause that, you’d need to inflict catastrophic damage to the entire logistical chain before it causes food shortages that could cause riots. Right now nothing like that is happening. Just queues at fuel stations, wasted fuel and increased costs. When the threat of rioting is rape with a shovel, then trenches as a storm trooper, you’ll suck it up.
Fuel shortages Russia is suffering from are still very far from catastrophic. However it would also be wrong to think they’re irrelevant. Sure Russian people might not do too much because of them, but Russian economy will. Whatever private investment they still have will dry up, profits plunge and the economy even more reassert towards extraction of raw materials and military industry, with agriculture a very distant third and not much else going on at all.
In the long run shortages like these will cripple the economy and make Russia a has beens’ has been. But this is all after the war in Ukraine, or at least several more years into the war, were it last that long. It can with Chinese financing, but probably not otherwise.
Disney Want Men Back But Not Masculinity
Disney is not like the Disney I grew up in. I had many fond memories of the old Disney from before Lefties and LGBTQ have utterly turned the company inside out. Nowadays, I would not give a micron of my time or money to the fetid Mouse.
The context behind their hatred of men and the history of evil men are ultimately irrelevant. If you aggressively push out, demonize, downplay, and Flanderize ALL men (and keep in mind that only a few men were vicious and ruthless back in the old days) then you end up going Full Circle. You become the very thing that you hate.
And Disney has gone that route. The fact that Disney Shows and media are showing boys (who have never experienced Patriarchy in any form) how fucked up and reprehensible and stupid men are is hard evidence that Disney is abusing booys (which is no surprise, since Disney is fraught with child abusers and complete monsters to kids
If you hate oppressive tyrants and scum so much, do not act like them and do not emulate them. Otherwise, you are no better than them
And Disney is not the only company that’s gone full circle. A lot of big-name media and cartoon companies are following Disney’s example.