I used to collect 1/35 scale military miniatures. I think that I wrote about this in the past. But I enjoyed making the little plastic figurines, and their vehicles. Today, I wish to present some images of the works by others in this venue. Sure I did airplanes and ships, but the miniature figurines were my favorites.
While I was away at university, my brother sold off many of my models and figurines for money, drugs or trade items. What remained was put in boxes by my mother and carried off to the local trash dump.
And thus ended that phase of my childhood.
*sigh*
Today…
Gloating and Loathing: Unrealistic Responses to Dedollarization
After dollar-gold convertibility was suspended, purveyors of federal hooknosed toilet paper covered in buttery, meaty feces grew ever longer noses as they told people oil was a reliable backing of the global reserve currency. With any hope of reinstituting the gold standard dashed with the emptying of Fort Knox and with the petrodollar destroyed by quantum decoherence, too many people who think Americans must starve and burn fail to note that the dollar traded below Bitcoin last year, and that even when the dollar was worth less than garbage, Americans did not starve because supply chains were not cut.
Americans and those who worship lifestyles of the dethroned American pedo-Ponzi elite (think Megan Fox, Kardashians, Apple, NBA, Israel, Instagram, Nirvana, Starbucks, LBGTQIAAP, and Russophobia, especially Putin Derangement Syndrome) claim Americans will starve because of dedollarization, when the dollar is growing stronger precisely because the USD Ponzi scheme was bought by the PRC, which saved the world at tremendous national sacrifice, and no longer belongs to Americans. It will be converted to a global constant-valued crypto with State-issued money cards: no credit, no hassle. Dedollarization means transactions that do not include Americans are not their business, and this should always have been the case. If it makes Americans feel threatened, harassed, and intimidated, that is to be expected, but people who bent over for the jewish Ponzi schemers have no business feigning triumph after buying federal hooknosed toilet paper as a safe investment worthy of jewish pervert Barney Frank, who blamed his victims for everything the jewish way.
The notion of starvation is lost on people who are unaccustomed to food insecurity. Emaciated children with edema are seldom seen in America, if ever, while obese homeless people (like me) are numerous. Americans are learning to consume healthier food at lesser expense. Fresh eggs have gone from being a staple to being an unaffordable luxury, while instant noodles have gone from being food for hihikomori to being a welcome, respected staple. Brands with sketchy graphics, often with low-prestige branding, appear and routinely offer culinary pleasure similar to that afforded in the past by historical brand names, which are now mostly inedible. The idea is to encourage Americans to be thrifty and sensible.
These new, high-quality cheap brands, algorithmically generated by military planners in BRICS/SCO, continue the work of optimizing sectors that not only saved Russia from sanctions but built Russia and her allies so much better than all previous methods combined that America has, behind the scenes, effectively surrendered her sovereignty, as evidenced not only by the official status of Chinese Lunar New Year in New York State but the learning of Mandarin instead of Spanish in American schools, the teaching of financial literacy in Mandarin in NYC public libraries, the flooding of RedNote with Tik Tok Refugees, the selling of goods by Chinese grocers without sales tax in NYC, and the wildly inconsistent physical appearances of America’s so-called “leaders”, who are publicly AI and often (though not always, as with Elon Musk, who is irreplaceable and a friend of Two Nations, One System) privately vanished.
There is no way China would let Trump — who not only referred to covid, a product of America offshoring its bioweapons manufacturing base to China against the wishes of Chinese scientists, as the “China virus” but whose businesses all lost money in real dollars and who invaded Little Russia, assassinated the head of the Iranian military to save democracy and Israel, passed around his defiled daughter to Zionist real estate moguls, and refused to let Pacific nations back the USD — do anything but appear as an AI algorithm to publicly discredit American Imperialism while Americans flock to banned book clubs, celebrate perversion more than ever, and vanish in ever-greater numbers.
America is not a country. It is an investment property of BRICS/SCO undergoing restructuring, including partial dismemberment while being hooked up to its new owners’ collective brain. To the extent control is possible without further damage to BRICS/SCO real estate, BRICS/SCO will prefer to foster healthy learning of uncapitalist behaviors among the few Americans who did not participate in the global USD Ponzi scheme.
For instance, Fifth Avenue, the epicenter of the global Ponzi scheme, continues directly into Jerome Avenue in the South Bronx, which is a reputed no-go zone in the poorest Congressional district in America. This means Bronxites were honest, and everything that ships overland from NYC into Continental America has to be shipped through the Bronx, because of all NYC, only the Bronx is on the North American continental shelf. For this reason, the Bronx has been under increasingly explicit Russian control since at least the 19th century, when my great-grandfather, head of wet work at the Imperial Guard, decided to have some fun posing as a jew and squelching revolutionaries in the crapper. (Great job, great-gramps!)
In the South Bronx, lots of money is improving infrastructure while the area empties out. We’re actually amazed at how unhassled we are, while Manhattanites gripe that the Bronx is a no-go zone. It wasn’t, even long ago. It just had a bad rep because it wasn’t in on the action, which protects us from invasion by degenerate crackers with credit cards, juice bars, bagel and wine shops, dive bars, vegan restaurants, transkids, tech jobs, love lives and bills to pay, pets’n’debts…
Similarly, Wyoming helped to collapse the jewish USD Ponzi scheme by attempting publicly to insert its state crypto into the Fed, which revealed the creaky monopoly to be incapable of adapting to current fintech.
The Bronx and Wyoming are being helped, and I really hope to relocate before long from the South Bronx to Wyoming because NYC is extremely expensive and not a place I’d ever wish to see again. I actually think Two Nations, One System have friends in the Bronx and Wyoming, and possibly in other places, who will probably have to reconfigure their consumption patterns but who will actually emerge better nourished at lesser expense, with fewer obese homeless men as so-called “mental health” is revealed to be Jewish Pharma’s preferred way to enslave workers and turn them into unlamented landfill, as nearly happened to me.
Please understand: Lots of people are vanishing and the goal is not to produce killing fields or emaciated people apologizing for the sins of capitalism but healthy workers who raise property values, which socialists and communalists know very well how to do. Not including the colonies in all transactions does not mean they are being liquidated.
Thanks for reading.
Richard Wolff: Donald J. Trump and the End of America
Have you ever told a “pushy” car salesman something that stopped him immediately? What was it?
Sure have. Went to a local dealership to buy a car. It was going to be only the second brand new car I have ever purchased. Salesman approaches.. I tell him what I’m looking for , and all the usual stuff.
Turns out they do have the car I’m interested in. So when we get down to doing the deal, I was very explicit with the sales man. I said, very nicely I will add, “I want the out-the-door final price. No exception. I have only so much money to spend. If you come back to me later with some ridiculous add-on, like ‘oh, we forgot to charge you for the Johnson rod, the deal’s off. Do you understand?
He said he did.
So they did the so-called prep-work on the car, and I was supposed to return in two days to pick it up. I had a bank draft with the exact amount for the deal. The sales guy hands me the paper work, and the final price was around $500 more than the agreed on price.
I said, “This is not the agreed price.. this is $500 more.
The sales guy says something like, ‘Oh this model comes with the extra pin stripping and floor mats, so we had to charge you for those.”
I looked at the guy for a moment, and said, “Are you serious? I told you right from the start, if you try to pull this crap, you break the deal. So the deal’s off.”
I was pretty angry. I got up and started to walk out with this guy chasing me. The sales manager notices and comes out and asks what’s wrong. So I told him the whole story.
I said, “How dare you try to charge me an extra $500 AFTER we made a deal?”
He said, “Oh, no problem, we’ll get that taken off.”
I said, “Nope, not good enough. You tried to screw me. So now I’m giving it back. You want to sell me that car, I want it for $500 less than the agreed price. Right now, or I’m done, and I’ll go to the dealer across town.”
He started sputtering,, so I just turned and started walking.
The sales manager followed me, and agreed to the $500 discount.
Sure taught them a lesson about honesty and making a deal. I still paid a lot for the car and they made money, but shear audacity of trying that made my blood boil. Thank you.
Are We Screwed? How China Outplayed the U.S. Overnight
Buffet Beef in Beer
Yield: 10 to 12 servings
Ingredients
- 1 (12 ounce) can beer
- 1 envelope onion soup mix
- 1 envelope brown gravy mix
- 1 (2 1/2 to 3 pound) round steak
- 1/3 cup all-purpose flour
Instructions
- In slow cooker, mix well the beer, onion soup mix and brown gravy mix.
- Cut beef into 1 1/2 inch cubes, then shake with flour in a plastic bag. Empty bag contents into slow cooker. Gently stir to coat meat with liquid.
- Cover and cook on LOW (180 to 200 degrees F) for about 8 hours.
- Garnish with dill weed.
- Serve with hard rolls.
ANOTHER IDIOT CHINA HAWK COMES FORWARD!
China hawk Senator Josh Hawley (R-MO) wants to impose penalties of up to 20 years in prison or $1 million in fines for violating his restrictions on AI-related trade and collaboration – I.e., basically downloading apps like DeepSeek.
For US enterprises, his proposes fines of up to $100 million if they’re caught conducting AI research in China or collaborating with Chinese companies on machine learning tech.
US senator calls for jail, fines for aiding Chinese AI As UK proposes laws against neural-nets-for-pedophiles
This is in the wake of DeepSeek DEMOCRATIZING not just the U.S. but the world by the gilt of a free AI model that anyone can use to build their own AI model or start their own AI business.
This is the worst of our stupid politicians after OpenAI testimony before Congress for help to restrict China’s AI initiatives to hold on to their monopoly of global AI.
So is it really Americans living in an authoritarian state? Certainly not the Chinese. The CCP is pushing for a democratic pursuit of AI in China as well as the world.
“Open the pod bay doors..”
Submitted into Contest #213 in response to: Write about an AI or person trying to inject a ‘human touch’ into their work.… view prompt
L J
“Well, the programmer couldn’t come up with a meaning for “R”? Humm, I hope this was worth the money. ” She looked at the first command: ‘Create a detailed itinerary for : (fill in blanks)
Cindy thought a moment. She is a travel blogger so she wanted to write about her and Steve’s honeymoon to Paris; “Ok, The subject is Married, Paris ..ok, wRiter, write my blog about Paris. Here are some photos of Steve and me ..” She sat back in her chair and started laughing.
Steve came up and kissed her head “What are you doing?”
“Well, I am trying out my new AI writer for my travel blog. ”
“Oh, what’s it called?”
“wRiter”
“That’s very deep. What does it do?”
“It is intuitive. All I had to do was plug in a few words and pictures and, supposedly, this girl is going to blog about our lovely honeymoon in Paris! All I have to do is collect my paycheck! Isn’t that great?”, she smiled.
“It seems a bit too easy” Steve smirked. “Honey, these don’t look like our honeymoon pictures” He shuffled through pictures of a bloody crime scene in which a man was stabbed. The crime has gone unsolved for years.
“Steven! Those are for my other blog,’ the history of unsolved crimes’. I’m actually thinking to start a podcast about it.”
“So, you have 2 blogs?”
“Yes, the unsolved crimes and my side hustle, travel blog”
“”That seems like a big job! Let’s hope wRite doesn’t mix them up! HaHa” He went in the other room to watch football.
“Funny. Let’s see, I where did I leave off? Oh yes.” She began to blog, “He was found in a muddy puddle next to a manhole in which his blood seeped down into the sewer, the knife was still visible in his chest.” She paused and went over to wRiter: “Okay, when you finish, make a hard copy for me and address it to PO Box 37. Put the pictures on our honeymoon Instagram post as well. Thanks”
She went into the living room,”Honey, I have to run some errands. Will you be here when I get back?”
Steven turned ,”It’s Nebraska vs Texas, hon. ”
“So, yes, you will still be here. Honey,, did I tell you how much I love being a football widow?”
“You knew that when you married me.” Steve smiled.
Cindy sighed, “Yes, but you didn’t tell me I would be a golf widow as well.” she headed out the door, “I guess I should be lucky you don’t watch the lumberjack competitions! Sheesh” She backed the car out of the garage and went to the store.
At halftime, Steven wondered over to the refrigerator and said “Hey, wRite, you want a beer?” he laughed.
“I do not drink.”
“What?” Did you say something? “he stared at wRite.
“The TV is disturbing me.”
“You…are a robot, not a human. and anyway..I’m watching the game. He took a sip of his beer, afraid to take his eyes off wRite.
“Please keep the silence so I can finish my blog.”
He grimaced, “You know…you sound like my wife. How are you able to do that?”
“She spoke to me.”
“Well, I’m speaking to you now and you don’t sound like me.”
wRite kept writing words into the blog.
“Okay, I’m going in to finish watching the game. With the sound ON!” As he sat down, the door to the living room closed. “Hey ! How did you do that? Open the door now!”, he pounded on the door.
wRite started the next page of the blog, this time including pictures. She grew annoyed at the yelling coming from the TV room. She opened the door “do you want another beer?”
“Cindy! Honey, yes I..” he turned and saw wRite in the door. “How do you know what beer is?”
“I saw you open the pod door and remove a can. ”
“Pod door? You mean the refrigerator?”
“The pod where you place beer. Would you like another one?”
“You don’t have any arms. How are you going to get ME a beer?”
” You must go back to the game, and I must continue the blog.”
“Wait, I’ll go back in the living room after you get me a beer. ” Steven smiled. “Come on, open the pod bay doors ,wRite…”
“Here is your beer.” And before Steve could duck, a beer can hit him on the forehead. “Hey, Ouch! That hurt! What the..I’m bleeding!”
“Please return to your seat. I must finish my blog.” wRite calmly started to blog again.
Steven stopped. He wasn’t sure what was happening now. “There must be a way to turn you off…I know, I’ll unplug you. that’s what we are supposed to, do if a PC acts up.” He walked carefully behind wRite and looked for the cord.
“What are you doing, Steven?” wRite asked menacingly.”I would not advise it.”
“I don’t care what you think. You are a machine, that’s all. All machines have off buttons somewhere. I’m gonna find yours!” He reached out and felt his arm break. “Ahhh” Steven moaned ,”My arm! How dd you do that? I think you freakin’ broke it..!” he backed away.
“I’m calling Cindy, she’ll know how to turn you off!” he tried to call her cell but only heard a dial tone. A Voice said “You have reached an inactive #, please try again.”. He redialed. the phone went dead. He looked at wRite.”What did you do to the phone?”
“Please go into the other room. I believe Nebraska just scored over Texas. You are missing a good game.”
“How did? I don’t believe you.” Steven stumbled into the living room and looked at the TV; Nebraska had scored a touchdown; they were now winning. Steve continued to cradle his arm as he backed out of the living room in terror,” How did you know that? ”
“Please let me finish my blog. ”
“No..no way! You freak! Get away from that computer! You’re through, you got that? When Cindy comes home, you’re gone.”
“You cannot tell me to go. I am not finished writing the blog.”
“My wife can do that by hand when she gets back. I command you to stop!”
Steven hit the wall on the other side of the room. As he came to, he saw wRite blogging. “How…oww..did I end up here? What did you do?!” He tried to stand but was immediately pushed down to the floor. “Hey, stop that! I mean ..what..?” His head was bleeding and throbbing, but he managed to stand up and straggle to the kitchen. He ran the water and rinsed the blood off his forehead, then he got out a bag of frozen peas and placed that on his bruised temple. He sat at the table and silently watched wRite ,who continued to blog. Steven walked very quietly into the garage and removed a sledgehammer. He sneaked up behind wRite and smashed the sledgehammer over it’s …he didn’t know what it was…it’s body. There was a sound of metal hitting metal but wRite blogged on, as if totally unaware it was under attack. After another hit ,wRite said ,”Steven,,what are you doing?”
“I’m gonna stop you! he ran towards wRite with the sledge hammer again, a look of hatred in his eyes. Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his chest. He dropped the sledgehammer and looked down. Blood was everywhere. He couldn’t breathe. He tried to stop the blood, but it came out faster. He fell to the floor, still clutching his chest. He said “wRite..why did you do this? ”
“I have to finish my blog.” wRite responded. Steven breathed his last breath.
———–
Four hours later, Cindy came home. She heard the TV in the background. “Honey? Sorry I’m late. I figured I’d go to the gym for a spinning class since I haven’t gone all week, then, I met up with Katy and we got a mani/pedi. Oh, I did stop and pick up steaks for dinner. I figured that would fit in with your game night. Steven? Where’d you go? Next time leave a note…geez…” She went over to see how wRite was doing. “Okay, girlfriend, let’s see if you were worth the money! I fully expect to see my travel blog written, printed, with a hard copy mailed to the po box. And,,my check is in the mail.” She looked down at the table, all the pictures had been shuffled together. She put them in her hands and started to look through them..” no..oh no.. not that one! wRite! What happened! You got the honeymoon pictures mixed up with the cold case ones,,oh man…I have to see the blog..”
Cindy’s travel blog: “here we are in Paris. My husband Steven and I are on our honeymoon. When we got back, I murdered my husband in a back alley….oh no..no..no… it’s supposed to be MARRIED M-A-R-R-I-E-D not MURDERED!! ” She read on, “I left his body by a manhole cover…ohmigod!! Not manhole…we ate in a hole in the wall restaurant and had the best potatoes au gratin we ever tasted. We…” she stopped. “No..no..no..you didn’t send this to the po box address yet, did you??!” She looked at the address.”. Police plaza?? What?? wRite! What did you do?”
“I finished my blog.”
Cindy looked at the AI “Why do you sound like me?” The hair on the back of her neck stood up. “umm, I did’t know you could talk…uhh do you know where Steven is by the way?”
“He is in the blog.”
“Yes, I know, he is supposed to be. You were writing about our HONEYMOON! I mean, where did he go, did he say?”
“He is in the blog.”
Cindy looked down at the true crime pictures that had gotten mixed in with the Paris pictures. As she sorted through them, she started screaming. “No! No! What did you do? What did you do?”
Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the door “Police! Let us in!”
Cindy was still screaming so the police broke down the door. They grabbed her as she was flailing and screaming. “Ma’am! Ma’am! You are under arrest for the murder of Steven Bowers. You have the right to an attorney..”
Cindy tried to calm down “no! No! it wasn’t me! The pictures. The AI mixed up the pictures and somehow, she..” Cindy pointed to the AI who was silent. “She mixed up the pictures and mailed the murder to you by mistake. See, I’m a blogger and this is a new writing program that I bought. She was supposed to write my travel blog while I worked on the other one. I’m a true crime cold case writer. That’s what I Was working on,,that stupid machine mixed up the pictures. See? They were obviously photo-shopped”
“Ma’am, these pictures were mailed to us anonymously.” The officer showed her the photos.
“These aren’t the true crime pictures! These are…pictures of my husband! ”
“His body was found in an alley, by a manhole. We need you to identify him.”
“Let’s go, Ma’am.” They placed her in handcuffs and took her away.
She asked the officers why they think she killed Steven. They said “The traffic camera AI identified you behind the wheel driving through the alley. Your husband was sitting beside you.”
————————–
wRite smiled as she titled her blog: “open the pod bay doors…”
My American mom now approves of my Chinese husband after visiting China
Shorpy
Sir Whiskerton and the Case of the Quacking Casanova
Ah, dear reader, prepare yourself for another feather-ruffling adventure in the life of Sir Whiskerton, the farm’s most brilliant (and modest) detective. Today’s tale involves Ferdinand the duck, who has fallen head over webbed feet in love—with Catnip’s girlfriend, no less! What follows is a story filled with quacks, schemes, and a moral that will leave you grinning like a duck in a bread factory. So grab your sense of humor and let’s waddle into The Case of the Quacking Casanova.
Love is in the Air
It all began on a sunny afternoon when Sir Whiskerton was enjoying his usual sunbeam on the barn roof. The peace was shattered by the sound of Ferdinand the duck belting out a dramatic rendition of “Quack Me Maybe.”
“What in whiskers’ name is that noise?” Sir Whiskerton muttered, flicking his tail.
“It’s Ferdinand,” Rufus said, trotting over with a grin. “He’s in love.”
“In love?” Sir Whiskerton said, raising an eyebrow. “With whom? Himself?”
“No, no,” Rufus said, wagging his tail. “With her.”
Sir Whiskerton followed Rufus’s gaze to the edge of the farm, where Ferdinand was standing on a rock, serenading a sleek, black cat with a pink bow around her neck. The cat looked equal parts flattered and confused.
“Oh, my darling Whiskerina!” Ferdinand quacked, his voice cracking with emotion. “Your fur is as dark as the night, and your eyes sparkle like the stars! Won’t you be my one and only?”
“Whiskerina?” Sir Whiskerton said, narrowing his eyes. “Isn’t that… Catnip’s girlfriend?”
“Yep,” Rufus said, grinning. “And Catnip’s not happy about it.”
As if on cue, Catnip emerged from the shadows, his fur bristling and his tail lashing like a whip.
“Ferdinand!” Catnip hissed, his eyes narrowing. “Step away from my lady before I turn you into duck à l’orange!”
The Farm Reacts
The news of Ferdinand’s romantic escapades spread quickly, and soon the entire farm was in an uproar.
“Oh, Sir Whiskerton!” Doris the hen squawked. “Ferdinand’s in love with Catnip’s girlfriend! It’s… it’s scandalous!”
“Scandalous! But also so romantic!” Harriet clucked.
“Romantic! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched, fainting dramatically into a pile of hay.
Even Porkchop the pig got involved, munching on a carrot as he watched the drama unfold.
“This is better than my mud puddle,” Porkchop said, grinning. “I haven’t seen this much drama since the Great Feed Fiasco.”
Catnip’s Revenge
Determined to put an end to Ferdinand’s quacking courtship, Catnip devised a plan. He enlisted the help of his two henchmen—a scraggly mouse named Squeakers and a dim-witted rat named Ratticus.
“Alright, boys,” Catnip said, pacing dramatically. “Here’s the plan: we’re going to teach that quacking Casanova a lesson he’ll never forget.”
“What’s the plan, boss?” Squeakers asked, twitching his nose.
“We’re going to sabotage his serenades,” Catnip said, smirking. “Squeakers, you’ll chew through his microphone. Ratticus, you’ll steal his sheet music. And I’ll… well, I’ll look dashing while you do all the work.”
“What’s sheet music?” Ratticus asked, scratching his head.
“Never mind,” Catnip said, sighing. “Just follow my lead.”
The Sabotage
That evening, Ferdinand prepared for his grandest serenade yet. He had decorated the pond with lily pads and candles, and even convinced the geese to act as backup singers.
“Oh, Whiskerina!” Ferdinand quacked, his voice trembling with emotion. “Tonight, I shall win your heart with my dulcet tones!”
But just as Ferdinand began to sing, Squeakers and Ratticus sprang into action. Squeakers chewed through Ferdinand’s makeshift microphone (a hollowed-out carrot), while Ratticus stole his sheet music (a napkin with scribbled lyrics).
“My microphone!” Ferdinand cried, clutching the broken carrot. “My music! My heart!”
“Ha!” Catnip said, emerging from the shadows. “That’s what you get for messing with my lady, you featherbrained fool!”
Sir Whiskerton Intervenes
Realizing things were getting out of hand, Sir Whiskerton decided to step in. He approached Ferdinand, who was sitting dejectedly on a rock.
“Ferdinand,” Sir Whiskerton said, his tone gentle. “I admire your passion, but perhaps serenading Catnip’s girlfriend isn’t the best idea.”
“But I love her!” Ferdinand quacked, his eyes filling with tears. “She’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen!”
“She’s also taken,” Sir Whiskerton said, sighing. “And Catnip is… well, Catnip. He’s not going to let this go.”
“What should I do?” Ferdinand asked, his voice trembling.
“Find someone who’s available,” Sir Whiskerton said, smirking. “Preferably someone who doesn’t have a possessive, scheming boyfriend.”
A Happy Ending
With Sir Whiskerton’s advice, Ferdinand decided to redirect his affections. He began serenading Gertrude the goose, who was flattered by the attention.
“Oh, Ferdinand!” Gertrude honked, blushing. “Your quacks are like music to my ears!”
“Music! But also so sweet!” Harriet clucked.
“Sweet! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched, fainting one last time.
As for Catnip, he returned to Whiskerina’s side, smugly satisfied with his victory. But Sir Whiskerton couldn’t resist one last jab.
“You know, Catnip,” Sir Whiskerton said, smirking. “If you spent half as much time being a good boyfriend as you do scheming, Whiskerina might actually like you.”
“Quiet, Whiskerton,” Catnip said, flicking his tail. “I’m too busy being fabulous.”
The Moral of the Story
The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: Love is a wonderful thing, but it’s important to respect boundaries. And while it’s fun to be romantic, it’s equally important to make sure your affections are directed toward someone who’s available—and doesn’t have a possessive, scheming boyfriend.
As for Ferdinand? He and Gertrude became the farm’s newest couple, quacking and honking their way into each other’s hearts. And Sir Whiskerton? He returned to his sunbeam, content in the knowledge that he had once again saved the day.
Until next time, my friends.
The End.
Trip to Moonstone Bay.
Submitted into Contest #213 in response to: Write about an AI or person trying to inject a ‘human touch’ into their work.… view prompt
Julie Grenness
Sophia was silent, then started her predictions. “I see a bad tide rising in the sunny seas over there. Enter at your own risk. There may be danger ahead, someone wicked to take your souls. You two girls will need to be very strong, keep your moonstone bracelets on. You will need to have faith in your own powers, you can do this. Tough times will test your strength.”
“Was that all?” asked Darya, a bit disappointed. “Aren’t we getting true love?”
“Love comes in different shapes and sizes, your day will be full of surprises!”
Giggling, the two girls left Ma Blessing at the spiritual convention, shopping for more potions. It was time for their snorkeling lesson. Here they met their instructor, a charming lady, Eloise. She soon had them enjoying their new equipment, swimming and spotting jewels of fish under the sea, with their masks and breathing snorkels.
Jennifer Louise came up for a while. “It’s so beautiful, under the blue sea!” she said to Darya. “Did you believe Sophia?”
“I don’t know,” Darya answered. “Looks okay to me.”
But Jennifer Louise and Darya had only learnt to swim so well in a swimming pool back home, in the same rural town as the Blessing homestead. This Moonstone Bay was a whole new world. They swam on, diving deeper. Neither of them even noticed the dark giant waves rolling in towards them both, from beyond this cove of magic.
Jennifer Louise snorkeled alongside Darya, keeping to the buddy system. Suddenly, a very strong current started to drag the two girls deeper underwater. The calm sparkling sea was now a swirl of danger. The chicks clutched hands, they were on this trip to stick together.
Darya looked behind them, and pointed. There, a horrible enormous manta ray was chasing after them. Terrified, the girls kicked their flippers, ahead loomed the rocky entrance to a cave, deep beneath. They were running short of air, but the sea did not care. The freak tide washed them through a tunnel, until they lay gasping on the sands of an undersea cave. They could hear the pounding of the sudden waves.
Jennifer Louise blinked, and looked back at the rock pool. She could see the manta ray circling, after them both. Or was it lost? Strangely, this cave was lit by a golden beam of sunlight, shining through the roof of the rocks. On the little patch of sand in front of them sat a figure of mermaid queen. Her throne was encrusted with brilliant colors, like emeralds and rubies. This queen was glowing by herself, pretty, and fishy.
Despite herself, Jennifer Louise was impressed. But Darya noticed that the queen had a mean look in her eyes. She looked meaner than Mrs. Dean, their Year 7 Maths teacher, back home. The two girls clambered to their feet, bit hard with flippers. They took off their snorkels for a minute, and breathed in the salty air.
“Now I’ve got you. You are my slaves, just what I wanted the sea to drag in. No leaving from here, you are trapped. That manta ray is my servant too!”
“No way!” Jennifer Louise was always a bit quick to answer back.
“Aha, my lovelies. No one argues with this queen of the undersea.”
The mermaid queen raised her arms, and coils of seaweed starting wrapping round the legs of the lassies. Jennifer Louise rubbed her moonstone bracelet, and had an idea.
“Grab some of those shells!”
Quickly, she and Darya took some broken shells from the shore, and slashed through the seaweed. The manta ray came closer, ahead was the nasty mean mermaid queen. But both girls had been studying hard in their self-defense course.
“Ready?” Jennifer Louise said to Darya, “Time for action!”
The girls put on their snorkels and masks, and flopped into the sea, as the tide was turning back to normal. Jennifer Louise swam right up to the manta ray, and poked it in its eyeballs as hard as she could. Darya punched it in the throat. The ray immediately burst into tears, it was only a bully slave.
“Come back! You fight dirty. My kind of chicks!” shrieked the mermaid queen, so mean.
“We have that human touch!” Jennifer Louise yelled.
Jennifer Louise and the Darya were the best of diving buddies. They dived under the surface, and made it through the tunnel, back to the bay.
“See, Sophia was right. We girls must have faith in ourselves.” Jennifer Louise said as they surfaced. They happy hi-fived each other. Swimming at home had never been so dramatic. “Must be the salt in the sea.” Darya remarked, as they finally made it to the beach of Moonstone Bay.
“That was one nasty mermaid queen.” Jennifer Louise, ” she even looks worse than Mrs. Dean.”
“And full of surprises!” Darya agreed, slightly tired from all that action.
The two girls laughed, and went to find Ma Blessing, on this holiday trip to magical Moonstone Bay. Worked like a charm!
PROF. RICHARD WOLFF: Everything Will Cost More Soon!
Brisket with Cranberry Gravy
This is a traditional braise, and finished with a not so traditional finish. The result is a velvety smooth, sweet and sour sauce that pairs so well with the deep flavored brisket. I made this as one option for my Passover seders, (smoked brisket too!) but you can definitely make this anytime you have a hankering for a good piece of meat!
I always recommend 2nd cut of brisket, because it has enough fat to keep it moist with the low and slow cooking. Plus, it tends to be a bit cheaper than the first cut, so that doesn’t hurt. In this case, because of the sauce – you can’t go wrong either way.
Yield: 8 servings
Ingredients
- 1 (2 1/2 pound) fresh beef brisket (not corned beef)*
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 1/4 teaspoon pepper
- 1 (16 ounce) can whole berry cranberry sauce
- 1 (8 ounce) can tomato sauce
- 1 medium onion, chopped (1/2 cup)
- 1 tablespoon mustard
Instructions
- Trim excess fat from beef. Rub surface of beef with salt and pepper. Place beef in 3 1/2 quart or larger slow cooker.
- Mix remaining ingredients; pour over beef.
- Cover and cook on LOW for 10 to 12 hours or until beef is tender.
- Cut beef across grain into thin slices.
- Skim fat from cranberry sauce from cooker if desired; serve with beef.
Notes
* Be sure to use a fresh beef brisket instead of a corned beef brisket. A ‘corned’ brisket is a fresh brisket that has been cured in seasoned brine, which would overpower the delicate flavor of the cranberry gravy. If a fresh brisket isn’t available, use the same cut of beef roast that you would use for your favorite pot roast. Also, whole berry sauce is recommended for its appearance, but you can use jellied if you like.
Attribution
Betty Crocker’s Slow Cooker Cookbook
Why is the whitest, least diverse country in the world the happiest? Do they not understand that diversity is better?
I was born in a island in the Atlantic , population 65,000 . The culture is Western European and non diverse , crime was almost non existent , there was a very small jail downtown with about 1/2 dozen prisoners ( they actually wore the striped pyjamas thing ) the jail door was wide open and some of them sat on bistro tables/chairs on the sidewalk downtown playing dominos while shoppers walked by.
Everyone was reasonably happy and the place was an utopia. This was in the late 1960s , I was a child then, left the island in early seventies and visited every 5 years or so,.
In 1994 , the island government decided that diversity would be a good thing , so they opened the doors to incoming immigration to people from undesirable countries & cultures ( no names but you can guess who they are ) … 1995 I visited the island and the locals were in shock, crime had sky rocketed, theft, scams, drugs, rape and murder were a reality ( the later 2 of particular shock to the islanders ) people now locked their doors and were afraid to walk downtown after dark.
The paradise was gone.
All this negativity with less than 2000 additional immigrants .
I then went back in 2001 and found the island very similar to what it used to be, safe, clean etc. I asked the locals , what happened , I don’t see the minorities anymore .
They told me , “ Those people misbehaved , commited crimes , did not respect our culture so we kicked them out.”
Islands with small populations are very sensitive to cultural changes and perfect for social experiments .
My lesson was , you may say that all humans are equal , I accept and agree to that . But all cultures are NOT equal.
Some are good, some are bad and some are barbaric.
If you have a bucket of fresh Spring water and and a bucket of sewage water, do not mix the two.
That’s what I think when I hear Diversity is good.
If your culture is high quality , it’s your duty to protect it.