I used to take guitar lessons. I was terrible at it.
The reason was practice.
I simply wasn’t able to practice without a relentless stream of insults and disruptions from my sister.I would try practicing and she would make such a racket of insults, and slamming and turn up television and radios so loudly, all the time screeching how “stupid” I was and how “I’ll never amount to anything”.
Ah what a witch.
Now, that being said, I COULD have practiced anyways. I COULD have gone outside and practiced in the snow, or under a tree in the Summer. I COULD have found other ways to practice.
But I didn’t.
Well, I was 10 years old at the time, and my mind didn’t work that way.
All in all, my father (and really my parents) should have been more participative in my guitar efforts rather than just simply driving me to the lessons. They should have done whatever they could to make sure that I was enjoying them and practicing.
- Sitting with me while I practiced.
- Not permitting my sister’s antics.
- Being supportive, and being my “cheerleader”.
- Focusing on music that I liked to emulate.
- Praising me.
Well they didn’t, and so the lessons were a waste.
If you are going to do something, please do it right.
Take your time.
Go slow, but steady.
Every day… work and work, and then work some more.
Eventually you will become proficient. And don’t use the turmoil caused by others to derail your efforts.
Today…
The US is ordering Mexico to impose tariffs on Chinese imports in order for American tariffs on Mexican imports to be rescinded before the 4th of March effective date. Would Mexico cave in?
Everyone should understand that Mexico is an independent country. Mexico is a friend of every country in the world, EVERY COUNTRY. México doesn’t get involved in the business of other countries nor any disputes they might have.
So no México will not impose tariffs on China, China is, and has been a very good friend of Mexico, if anything México will tell Trump to get his trade deal and sick it up his ass, we don’t need the US we can trade with all nations in the world, we do trade with the US because it’s easier,
it’s very close, they need everything we can produce and they are friends, or more than friends I would say, or that’s what we thought but many Mexicans are thinking that over maybe they are not our friends,
in that case I think Mexico will be way better finding new trading partners and dumping the stupid US,
the US is no longer a good friend nor a good partner it has been increasingly turning into an enemy,
I am 100 percent the US people will suffer way more than the Mexicans, because of a few simple reasons,
1. We don’t need anything the United States has, nothing whatsoever,
2. The USA needs everything Mexico is now producing, they not only need our products but some of them are essential to the US, a few are extremely important to them,
3. And the last one is more than 90 percent of the Mexican population is poor, and won’t feel the change,
if Mexico grows or doesn’t that is felt at the top of the chain which is les than two percent, so Mexico has a chance to look for other markets without any complaints from the people, and China, Japan the European Union, Russia to name a few are eager to trade with Mexico some nations almost begging to trade with US, because of our cheap labor, and low trade taxes, and fortunately for us
China is a very good friend and they like the US need everything we have and even more, and there’s a big difference between china and the US China doesn’t break treaties or trade deals you can count on their word, you can trust them, they also give you better deals, and if we do switch to China, which I hope we do, we can modernize mexico with highspeed railroads and the latest technology
something we will never get from the US.
U.S. Just Got VERY RUDE Wakeup Call from Russia; Fighter Jets Intercept B-2 Stealth
Video below shows the United States reportedly just got a VERY RUDE wakeup call from Russia: A Russian Su-34 fighter jet, along with a Russian Su-35 “Flanker” fighter jet, intercepted a B-2 Stealth Bomber in-flight.
They weren’t supposed to even be able to see on radar that he was there!
Not only did Russian radar detect the B-2 “stealth” but the fighter jets were also able to intercept it.
It is worth noting that in the video below, the bomb bay doors on the B-2 are open; making it VERY visible to radar. Which begs yet another question: Why were those bomb bay doors open?
It is not yet known where or when this video was taken; endeavoring to determine those facts.
Well. . . well . . . well . . . . looks like our vaunted “stealth” isn’t nearly as good as we were told it was.
Are conspiracy theories harmful? In what ways?
I think they certainly can be, especially if acted upon.
By nature, most (if not all) conspiracy theories are accusatory in nature. These theories, even if made in jest, are accusing certain people or parties of certain things.
There’s no better example of this than the case of the Fun Time Kids Kare daycare center.
A few years ago, a Reddit user posted to the local community page for Salt Lake City, Utah. The post featured a picture of a run-down bright green building, and read “What’s the deal with this place? Lived across the street from it for 5 years, never seen a kid there”
This appeared to be a popular post for Salt Lake City residents, and you had a lot of locals chiming in with their theories and opinions in the comments. But they all agreed that it was strange that no kids had ever been seen there.
Some people suggested it was a front business, being used to launder money. Others suggested it was an FBI setup. But everyone agreed that something was fishy.
“You never see anyone go in or out and there are 10 locks on the door. The windows are boarded, not curtains. Even the neighbors told me they think it’s a trafficking site. Utah is the 3rd worst state for trafficking.”
And comments like this didn’t help.
“The only strange thing is, no matter what time of day I showed up with their mail, it always seemed to be nap time.”
Neither did comments like this one.
It really got out of hand, and the rumour mill just kept spinning and spinning. People started visiting the building to ‘investigate’. The accusations started to get more and more deranged. One person even dressed as the daycare center for Halloween. How do you even dress as a building?
But as it turned out, the centre turned out not to be a CIA Black Site. It wasn’t a front for organised crime, either. Actually, Fun Time Kidz Kare was exactly what it purported to be. It was a daycare center.
And there was a really reason for the covered-up windows, the lack of kids playing outside, and all the other things that random trolls on the internet deemed to be ‘creepy’.
As it turned out, the daycare was ran by a nice older lady, and had been for years. This lady had no ill intentions. The reason for the building seeming ‘empty’ or ‘abandoned’ was because it was a ‘safe haven’ daycare center.
Safe haven daycare centers are usually for kids who have a dangerous or ‘persistent’ parent trying to find or take their children when they’re not supposed to. This could mean criminals, domestic abusers, and anyone else that’s deemed unsafe to be in contact with their children. The kids enter and exit subtly, and the windows are covered with pretty artwork and paintings to stop anyone looking in that isn’t supposed to.
I think this story illustrates the harm that conspiracy theories can do, a lot more than ‘harmless’ theories. By drawing attention to this place online, and framing it as something sinister, a lot of kids could have been subjected to distress or danger. At one point in 2019, there was a “Let’s All Storm Fun Time Kidz Kare At The Same Time” event planned.
Not everything is a shadowy, sinister plot. Sometimes things are just what they seem.
Footnotes
Gyms Are Going Bankrupt | 60% Of Men Are LEAVING GYMS
What was a Christmas bonus you got from your company that made you speechless?
This was back in the late eighties. I was working for a department store and making minimum wage. I was living on my own so money was always tight. The week before Christmas I was broke as usual and had no money for groceries. I was living on a can of green beans a day until payday. My work gave us a frozen turkey as our Christmas bonus. I was so happy. I felt like I won the lottery. Some of the other workers were so angry they weren’t getting money they didn’t want the turkey. They actually threw them in our big trash can in the break room. They were frozen so I took all 3 turkeys out of the trash giving me 4 turkeys. I took them home. I thawed one out for me. Left one in the fridge to thaw in the next couple of days and put the other 2 in my old junky deep freeze. I was a very happy and grateful person. Phooey on the ungrateful big babies that didn’t want them.
Southern Stuffed Eggs
Ingredients
- 12 hardboiled eggs
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 1 teaspoon dry mustard
- 1/5 teaspoon pepper
- 5 slices bacon, crisply fried and finely crumbled*
- 1/2 cup mayonnaise or salad dressing
- 1/2 to 1 teaspoon white vinegar
- Paprika
Instructions
- Cut peeled eggs in half lengthwise. Take out yolks and mash with fork.
- Mix in salt, mustard, pepper, bacon, mayonnaise and vinegar.
- Fill egg whites with yolk mixture.
- Sprinkle with paprika. Keep covered in refrigerator.
Notes
* 1/4 cup finely chopped sweet pickles may be substituted for bacon for a different flavor.
Why is the AK-47 so dangerous?
What makes AK dangerous is not its caliber or specs but its cheap price and abundant quantity. It is also easy to use and maintain.
The price of AK in the black market of war zones such as Afghanistan, Iraq or Somalia is around 600-1200 USD depending on the quality or roughly 8-15 million. So even poor people can buy it if they are in a pinch.
The number in circulation is around 200 million units so that stock is always available on the black market. The manufacturers are also in various countries.
It is easy to use, even with a little practice one can assemble the AK in less than 3 minutes. Cleaning and maintenance requirements are minimal.
So if you are the leader of a separatist group and have 500 fighters with a cost of 7-15M, you can become a deadly group in a short time because you just have to wait for shipping, stock is not a problem. Scary, right?
That is the main danger of AK; Value, availability and ease of use cannot be beaten by other weapons.
Is it hard to return to your own country with its low standard of living after visiting the U.S.?
Not at all. I’ve been to the USA four times.
My first visit was to the West Coast in 1992 . I drove from LA down to San Diego, across to Phoenix, the Grand Canyon, San Francisco and back to LA. Good weather, fabulous scenery, friendly people.
Second visit was in 2000,in February to New York. We stayed in Elizabeth , New Jersey . Caught the bus and were the only white people on it. There was no open hostility but there was definitely an atmosphere. I could not believe how tatty things were. Even in Manhattan, the roads had potholes. There were so many immigrants it was hard to find anyone who spoke English!
Third visit was when we went to New Orleans in February for my 50th birthday. We flew into Atlanta and picked up a hire car. We drove downtown intending to go to the Ritz Carlton for brunch. A hobo was sharpening his bowie knife on the pavement. We drove down to New Orleans via Montgomery and Mobile. What a disappointment. It made Blackpool look like St Tropez. Cheap and tacky, drunks everywhere and women flashing from the balconies.
The nail in the coffin was our last trip. We were joining a cruise in Miami. Immigration was horrendous. The staff must be trained in rudeness. It took about 2 hours to get into the country. We had two back-to-back cruises booked and had to leave/re-enter at the end of the first week. A nightmare and never again.
I know you Americans think the US is wonderful but I would suggest that you travel beyond your boundaries before making such claims. Give me Europe any time.
Man Dies And Is Shown The Truth About Time: Past, Future and Present (Shocking NDE)
Why would anyone want to live in a trailer park?
I worked for UPS for a bit. Did package deliveries to trailer parks. They were the best-mannered, most polite people in town. Never had any safety concerns.
The premises could look really trashy on the surface, sure. And the owners would often be standing there smoking a cigarette on their porch. And yes, I saw a few Dixie flags. But I never got shot, bit, stabbed, or assaulted, not once. Most people came to the door to at least acknowledge my existence, which can be surprisingly rare in wealthier neighborhoods — at least in the taciturn place where I currently live, the wealthier people live behind a wall of stony silence.
I’ve done some food delivery on the side. Folks in trailer parks are almost always the highest-tipping customers, and they have the decency to send their kids out to help unload the groceries. In my experience, it’s people in public housing who don’t feel the need to tip… so their food almost never goes in my car. I’m not a charity.
There’s a trailer park a mile from my house. Kids are usually there playing in the street. Yeah, the trailers are small, but that kind of forces you to go outside. Almost everybody I know who’s happy spends a lot of time outdoors (it’s why I quit a miserable office job to be a driver), and these kids seem like the happiest ones around.
Never lived in a trailer park myself, but most people I know who used to live in one considered it the happiest time of their life. My great-grandparents sold a ranch house and moved into a trailer park when they retired to Florida. They retired as soon as they could, so obviously they didn’t think they were taking a step down.
Also you can avoid crushing debt.
Lunacy
Submitted into Contest #245 in response to: Set your story in a world where astrology and the movements of celestial bodies deeply impact the lives of inhabitants.… view prompt
Jeremy Burgess
This story contains themes or mentions of physical violence, gore, or abuse.
“Ah, High Priestess, I am gladdened by your heeding my summons,” he intoned, “I have questions.”
“Yes, my King,” she replied, bowing deeply, “I am certain you do. But first, I would like to present your nephew, Prince Cordus, first in line and heir apparent, whom I have called back to court.”
Cordus knew the appropriate etiquette and stepped forwards, bowing low as well, The King looked him up and down, his face impassive. “An odd choice to bring him on this day,” he said in gravelly tones, before turning his gaze back to the High Priestess. “What,” he continued, “is going on out there?”
The High Priestess cleared her throat. “As you know my King, the Gods bring Potence to the land, and we in the church channel the Potence to the great benefit of the Kingdom, and yourself.” The King looked irritable at this explanation, but he indulged the most senior member of the Church of the Sky and gestured for her to continue. “The Gods move above us, Coros from east to west — she brings us light and warmth each day. Salak wanders north to south casting his cool ambience as he chooses on the land, be it in the night or during the day. As each traverses from horizon to horizon, the Potence waxes and wanes, so that at their zenith the energies are at their most mighty, absent altogether when they fall from sight. What we see today is something rare indeed, both Coros and Salak are high in the sky, during the day, at the same time, and so their power multiplies. We believe an eclipse is nigh.”
“Perhaps an eclipse of even your own glorious brightness my Lord,” the fool’s sing-song lilted. Cordus had heard tell of the King’s fool, who alone was permitted to make mockery of his pride.
The King sat back in his throne, brooding. Cordus was not surprised; Grintrag had a reputation for being shrewd, and on his way to the castle today Cordus had seen a great many odd things as the moon and sun progressed towards the centre of the sky. Where typically priests assisted in redirecting water to irrigate fields during the day, today such attempts had resulted in flooding. A young adept who had been practising cooking had set a whole carcass alight, barely even trying. On a road being repaired, another churchman had levelled both the road in question and a neighbouring house. The Potence was out of control, and it had been getting worse as the day had gone on. There was also no record of eclipses in the history books, and while King Grintrag was self-serving and proud, he was famously well read, having sat on the seat of supreme authority for over 50 years now.
“Multiplies you say,” the King mulled, “how long ago, exactly, was the last eclipse?”
“She doesn’t want to say,” cackled the fool, “but look to her neck! They know!”
The High Priestess ignored the fool. “It is hard to say my King, our records are unclear on this.”
The King stood abruptly, walking with steadiness that belied his age to one of the room’s windows. He opened it and looked outside onto the castle’s inner courtyard. Usually an active place where horses were mustered and soldiers practised, it was eerily quiet, the denizens of the castle having decided to stay inside rather than risk the strangeness that pervaded as the eclipse approached. He looked up to where the sun and moon were beginning to converge, before returning to his throne.
“It is odd, I think, that your records are so unclear on the last eclipse when they are so specific on the harvest of grain 140 years ago, or the great earthquake 30 years before that. It is strange, is it not?” probed the King.
“Indeed it is a mystery. One can only assume that some terrible accident must have befallen the writings. Paper is so fragile, and people so flawed,” smiled the High Priestess.
“I know when it was,” laughed the fool, “5 score and 10, when the Queen Sirka rode to the end of her reign.” They jingled back and forth before the King.
“What do you think, Prince Cordus?” asked the King, turning his granite stare on the now crown prince.
Cordus glanced around frantically, he had hoped to escape notice, and was still worried about why the High Priestess had sent for him so urgently. He liked doing things little and doing things that put him at risk even less. “Ahhh,” he vacillated, sensing that indecisiveness would be a curse in this moment, and wishing that Assanda had given him clearer guidance on what to do should the King talk to him. He knew he did not have long to dither, with all three pairs of eyes on him. The sensible option would be to stay inside, he thought, away from people and whatever was going on with the Potence. The King, however, would not want to be thought fearful, Cordus thought. “I think we should face the eclipse outside,” he said with false surety, “we should witness it ourselves.”
“The boy speaks with wisdom,” remarked the High Priestess with a warmth that had been lacking entirely from her voice when she he had been instructing him before, “we would be fools indeed to miss this chance to see Salak and Coros meet.”
The fool did a jig and bowed in supplication to Assanda and Cordus. “When the Gods meet we all must bow, and no walls will do them justice. It is a sign that none can ignore!”
The King leaned to one side, his brow furrowed in thought. It seemed to the Prince that the fool’s words were warnings. He wanted to know what the High Priestess knew, and what had happened to Queen Sirka, who in the history books had died suddenly and been succeeded by her eldest son who had then not spoken of her again. He looked surreptitiously at the High Priestess’s neck, as the fool had said, but all he saw was the icon of the Church.
“Come,” King Grintrag commanded suddenly, having reached a decision, “we go to the courtyard, where we shall observe the phenomenon. To not witness would be cowardly, and I am no coward.”
The four of them walked as a procession through the halls and staircases of the great castle, passing only torchlit stone and armour-clad guards with trained austerity of manners on their way to the great doors. As they reached the outside, the world held its breath as Coros and Salak began to meet, the moon beginning to move in front of the sun as noontime approached. The group stood still and the world began to dim.
“How long until…?” Prince Cordus quavered, wishing he was back inside. He was unashamed of his cowardice and thought that the great bricks of the castle wall would be some protection at least against whatever was going to happen, his instincts screaming that it would not be good, whatever it was.
“Soon,” murmured High Priestess Assanda to him. She pulled him a few steps away from the King and the fool, who both seemed transfixed, though they did not stare directly up, not yet at least, for fear of hurting their eyes. “When the eclipse begins, you must do exactly as I say, exactly when I say it. Do you understand? No hesitation if you wish to survive.”
“You do know what happened last time!” he whispered to her angrily.
She reached into her long robe, pulling from it a mean looking knife about as long as his forearm, and handed it to him with a purposeful glare. The blade was neither a kitchen knife nor one for combat. Instead it had a wave like undulation through it, and its hilt was etched with text that Cordus had no time to read. “No hesitation, you understand.” This time it was not a question. Prince Cordus held the knife helplessly, and then, glancing nervously at the King, put it behind his back, out of sight, not that the King was watching him.
Directly above them, Coros and Salak reached alignment, and the sky darkened. Stars punched through, tiny perforations of light around the crown of fire that rimmed Salak’s edge. A strange rhythmic rushing noise became audible, quiet at first but gradually becoming louder. As the noise began, it became clear that Coros and Salak had stopped moving altogether. At totality, they were locked in place, but they were not unchanging. A point of silvery golden light, argent and sun-bright appeared in the middle of the eclipse, beating in time with the noise they could all hear, and slowly growing. Despite the shine from the fire in the middle of the eclipse, no light was cast on the land, and all remained dim.
“It comes!” cried the High Priestess falling to her knees and looking up at the strange sky, “as Coros and Salak meet the barriers fall and the Potence of the gods flows unshackled!” Her shout was raw, incongruous with her typical self-control. As she fell to the ground Cordus recognised in the eclipse the symbol of the Church — a golden rim around a black circle, a point of burning silver at its heart.
Cordus was awed, but also increasingly fearful about the long knife he was hiding, dropped to his knees beside her. He turned to the High Priestess, panicking inside. “What do I do?” he implored, now craving her instruction in the face of the strange sight above.
“It has been good serving you my King!” shouted the fool, who turned and ran back towards the castle, as the rushing noise and the fire in the eye of the eclipse intensified.
“What?” growled the King, turning his eyes from the fearsome sky, “what is going on now?”
The High Priestess gathered herself, and shot Cordus a glare. “Stab him,” she shouted, “at the conjunction of the gods, the ruler of men must die by the hand of their successor! Thus has it always been.”
“What?!” yelled Cordus standing and recoiling, as the King bellowed, “Not today!” and drew his own dagger. Grintrag, had no compunctions about killing another family member and lunged towards the Prince, while Cordus was saved only by the fact that he was already lurching away. The fire in the eclipse grew stronger again.
The High Priestess stood, gesturing with one hand and muttering something under her breath. Around the King the air seemed to thicken and congeal, rendering all attempts at movement lethargic and futile. He seemed to try to speak, but his jaw would not form words, pushing against some invisible force.
“You must kill him now!” urged the High Priestess, her implication clear.
Prince Cordus was not moral, and although he lacked skill, drive, and any intention of achieving highly, he had a strong self-preservation urge and no love at all for the man who had killed most of his relatives. Flicking his gaze for only a second to the horrifying sight in the sky, he stepped forwards, and plunged his knife into Grintrag’s neck, feeling no resistance from whatever held the King in place. Grintrag’s lifeblood flowed strangely from the wound, spreading as if it was impeded by whatever force the Assanda controlled with the Potence. The Prince stepped back in disgust at both what he had done and the ensuing strangeness.
From the beating flame in the middle of the eclipse, a filament of silver fire pierced the air and speared down through the heart of the King, as his life ebbed away. His body was pulled into the air, dangling for a moment. Then, as quickly as a stone sinks beneath the surface of a lake, he was gone, enveloped momentarily in white flame, leaving only ash and the knife behind, which fell to the ground with a clank. The rushing noise stopped, Coros and Salak began to separate, and the moment passed.
Turning to face the High Priestess, Prince Cordus wailed “what in the names of Coros and Salak was that?!”
The High Priestess relaxed and turned to him, a beneficent smile settling on her countenance. “That was the sacrifice we all must make whenever the gods converge. As it is written, when Salak occludes Coros, the gate to the land beyond is opened and the Potence will unmake the world, piece by piece. It can be sealed only with the blood of our ruler, and the writings are clear on who must do it. So you see, the King had to die, and you had to kill him.”
“But… where is it written? And, how do you know that that’s what you have to do?” Prince Cordus asked, the adrenaline leaving him feeling hollow. In his stomach a pit opened as the realisation dawned that he was perhaps now the King.
“It is written,” chirped the fool, who had appeared from somewhere, “it is just not written where you are allowed to see it. And as for how they know, how do they know anything? They are the Church, and the Gods must tell them. Be grateful that it will not happen to you, for you will surely die sooner than it happens again!”
The High Priestess nodded, “the fool is correct of course,” she continued, “we must ensure that this remains secret, or perhaps a monarch might choose to try to avoid it. You will support our efforts in this, and the Church in turn will ensure your long and happy reign. Fortunately for you the eclipse of Coros and Salak happens only once in all but the longest lives, and you will not live that long.”
She walked forward and took his uncertain, dithering hand, bowing to him. “The King is dead,” she said, “Long live the King!”
Chinese Showing American Tiktok Refugees How They Live Their Life On Rednote
Why do so many people support Zelensky in his spat with Trump and Vance? Putting aside his ingratitude for America’s devotion, he doesn’t actually want peace through minerals, but is desperately wasting innocent lives, just like Trump said.
Ukraine’s rare earth resources are also not worth $500 billion at all.
The broad terms of the “exchange of Ukrainian minerals for peace” agreement were that 50% of the minerals extracted from the “new mining area” would go to Ukraine and 50% to the United States.
In fact, all of the above is a gimmick. There is no substance to it.
But if the U.S. and Ukraine sign this treaty, on the one hand, Trump can give an account to the domestic public, and at the same time, it will create pressure on Russia to negotiate.
It is well known that the Kurds, in conjunction with Blackwater, occupy a large part of northern Syria and that the oil fields are under Blackwater’s control, and both Russia and the Syrian government forces are well aware of this but do not want to enter into direct conflict with the U.S., so they generally bypass this area.
Once the U.S. demarcates an area in Ukraine, the so-called “new mining area”, and Blackwater moves in, the Russian military will be wary of attacking the area on its own initiative. Isn’t this the “security guarantee” that Zelensky demanded?
Zelensky mentioned “security guarantees” to Ukraine during the US-Ukraine talks, which means he asked Trump to send US government forces or NATO forces into Ukraine for peacekeeping. Only if Trump provides “security guarantees” to Ukraine will the Ukrainian army cease fire. How could Trump agree to this?
Biden didn’t send U.S. government troops to fight in Ukraine, and Trump is just as unlikely to send U.S. government troops to peacekeeping in Ukraine. At best, Trump’s bottom line is to send private mercenary firms like Blackwater into the so-called “new mining area”.
In fact, before Zelensky flew to the U.S., the specifics of the so-called “exchange of Ukrainian minerals for peace” had already been almost fully negotiated during Rubio’s visit to Europe, and the White House only needed to hold a signing ceremony between Zelensky and Trump.
However, as we saw from the media broadcast, Zelensky and Trump got into another argument over the “security guarantees” to be given to Ukraine after the ceasefire.
One can only blame Zelensky for being too stupid to understand what Trump meant, or for being so over the top in his performance style that he willfully ignored Trump’s intention to “exchange of Ukrainian minerals for peace” and continued to foment populism in the country with his pathos.
Of course, Europe’s left-wing politicians are intentionally working against Trump, with the British Prime Minister making a point of giving Zelensky a soothing reception when he returned to Europe and went on to sign more than 2.2 billion pounds of loan agreements to Ukraine.
If Russia and Ukraine fail to achieve a ceasefire within six months, then Trump’s campaign promises will be broken, his popularity ratings will fall, and he will be at a disadvantage.
The fact that Trump brokered a truce in the Russo-Ukrainian war was a gift to the young people of Ukraine so they wouldn’t have to die for it. Unfortunately, Ukrainians have gotten carried away by nationalism.
Poor Comrade Chuan Jianguo, all his hard work was treated like a donkey’s liver and lungs by Zelensky.
So let’s just wait and see Trump strike back at these left wing politicians in Zelensky and Europe, good show.
This story of Zelensky ripping into Trump has reached the Eastern superpower.
Don’t get me wrong, when I say eastern superpower here I mean India, the eastern superpower with a population of 1.4 billion.
Modi was shocked by this.
Not long ago during Modi’s visit to the US, Trump had explicitly and implicitly stated that he would increase tariffs against India in the future as well.
Trump’s intentions were also clear that when he was done with Europe he would take care of India.
But Zelensky’s backlash against Trump has completely disrupted the US.
Modi, exclaimed:
India’s opportunity is here and it can’t be stopped 😁
In any case, all this has nothing to do with China, but only with the United States, Russia, Europe and Ukraine.
As bystanders and neutrals, we call for world peace. On many occasions, we have put forward peace initiatives and used our diplomatic good offices, which, unfortunately, have been ignored.
We are not stakeholders in the Russian-Ukrainian war, and in our opinion it doesn’t make much difference to the civilians whether they will be ‘Russian citizens’ or ‘Ukrainian citizens’ in the future, life goes on as usual, and the land is just something the politicians want.
As one world power, we have done our best at the humanitarian level. In the Russian-Ukrainian war, we did not provide weapons, but we sent a steady stream of living goods to the Russian-Ukrainian war zone, guaranteeing that the lives of civilians in the war zone could continue.
As the future No.1 superpower, we watch the United States, Russia, Europe, and Ukraine continue to fall into chaos, while we have more important things to do.
If you live in China and publicly say something negative about the government, President Xi, or CCP, what will happen to you and your family?
It depends on.
If you are a Party member, working within the system, especially a senior official, and you make such remarks publicly (including online) under your real name, you might get a reprimand from your superiors. In more serious cases, if the remarks are extreme, you might even lose any chance for promotion.
If you’re an ordinary citizen, it’s usually not a big issue.
However, sometimes your social media account might get banned.
For example, I myself had two accounts banned for complaining and saying odd things, after which I never returned to that platform—it was overly sensitive.
If you’re not a Party member within the system, nor an ordinary citizen, but someone with a certain social influence, generally speaking, there’s not much to worry about.
However, if your influence is significant, it’s possible someone might want to “have tea” with you (a euphemism for an official reprimand).
The most important thing is the content of the speech itself.
There are a lot of ,tons of critical remarks, but if what you say makes sense, I think no one would bother to “have tea” with you.
Shorpy
How would you react if your boss fired you without notice?
He did. It was only a few years ago. The company hired my new boss, even giving me the opportunity to interview him and submit my recommendations. From the first day, my new boss wouldn’t talk to me. I had to go in a few weeks later and ask him how I was doing. He didn’t say much, said I was fine, and provided little information. So the days, weeks, and months went by. I continued to do my job, manage my team, but eventually realized he had to have other plans because he tried little effort to build any type of relationship. Each day I expected to be let go. Not sure why at the time, but he never made any effort to make things better. Then one day, on his one year anniversary, he called me on the telephone to tell me, my services were no longer required. Even though prior to him, I always had good performance reviews, good salary raises, good bonuses, and no complaints from anyone that reported to me. I had a global team of about 30 employees report to me. Four countries, and 17 offices in the US.
It turned out, that he wanted to replace me with a good friend of his from his previous company. He had a one year noncompete contract with his previous company, where he wasn’t able to take anybody with him for one year. One year to the day, I was fired, and his buddy was hired. In fact, he had already offered his buddy the job, and was training him on the side prior to me leaving the company.
I was disappointed, because I really liked the job. I liked my staff, and they liked me. But I was very professional, I didn’t need to pack up much cause I didn’t have much left there anymore. I knew the day was eventually going to come. I was surprised that he didn’t even want to meet with me, face-to-face, since our offices were only a few doors apart. The fact that he called me just showed he knew what he was doing was wrong.
To this day, I think about that job often. It was one of my most favorite jobs, and I truly enjoyed what I was doing, and was doing it well. Shortly after I was fired, a few other of my staff members quit. That made me feel good, but still could not correct the situation.
What was nice, is because I had such good performance reviews, and nobody ever told me I wasn’t doing my job well, I felt I had justification to sue them. Therefor, I Sent them a letter, threatening to sue them for wrongful termination. I also claimed potential age discrimination. The CEO called me the minute they got my demand letter, and within a few hours, the president of HR called as well. I had a settlement check sent to me the next day. We settled, for an amount that was satisfactory, but it still never satisfied me. But at least I was able to get some satisfaction for what he did. I’m sure my boss had to address his actions, and was told about the financial cost of doing what he did.
I still talk to my previous staff, as we built a very good relationship, and wish that I still had that job. I moved on, even got more pay, a higher position, but no job fulfilled me like that one did.
It was unfortunate that he felt the need to replace a good worker with a friend. I would understand if I had issues, if he tried to console me, or had any other justification besides wanting to bring in a friend. But I guess in the end they had to pay for what they did.
I remember the day very well, when I came home, and realized my job had ended. But it felt even worse the next morning realizing I had nothing to do, nowhere to go, I need to look for a new job.
Sir Whiskerton and the Great Goat Yoga Debacle
Ah, dear reader, prepare yourself for another delightful escapade starring none other than Sir Whiskerton, the farm’s most brilliant (and modest) detective. Today’s tale involves yoga mats, wobbly goats, and a scarecrow that simply couldn’t handle the pressure. What follows is a story filled with laughter, balance beams (of sorts), and a moral that will leave you feeling centered—pun absolutely intended. So grab your downward-facing dog pose and let’s dive into The Great Goat Yoga Debacle.
Namaste, Farm Animals!
It all began one sunny morning when Mary Hoppins arrived at the barnyard with her usual flourish. Clad in a prim little bonnet and carrying both a parasol and a chalkboard, she called out cheerfully:
“Children, children! Gather round!”
Sir Whiskerton peered over the edge of the roof, his tail flicking lazily. “What now?” he muttered under his breath.
Mary Hoppins beamed as the animals gathered around her. “Today,” she announced, “we’re going to practice yoga. It’s good for the mind, body, and soul.”
“Yoga?” Doris squawked nervously, flapping her wings. “Isn’t that what humans do when they want to look like pretzels?”
“It’s more than that,” Mary replied, adjusting her bonnet. “Yoga teaches us balance, focus, and inner peace. Now, who’s ready to begin?”
The animals exchanged skeptical glances.
“I’m in!” Big Red barked enthusiastically, wagging his tail so hard it nearly knocked over a nearby bucket.
“Me too!” Buckley the goat bleated, already attempting to stand on his hind legs. Predictably, he toppled backward into a pile of hay.
Sir Whiskerton sighed dramatically. “This should be entertaining.”
Downward-Facing Dog—and Ducks
Mary Hoppins wasted no time setting up her yoga class. She unrolled mats made from old feed sacks and began demonstrating poses.
“First, we’ll start with Downward-Facing Dog,” she said, bending gracefully into position.
Big Red immediately mimicked her, stretching his front paws far ahead of him. Unfortunately, his back end remained firmly planted on the ground, making him resemble more of an awkward bridge than a dog.
Ferdinand the duck tried next, but instead of bending properly, he quacked loudly and flapped his wings. “I think I prefer singing sensations to silent stretches!” he declared before waddling off to compose a new song about yoga.
Meanwhile, Buckley attempted Tree Pose by balancing on one hoof—but only succeeded in knocking over three chickens and a very disgruntled Bessie the tie-dye cow.
“Balance is harder than it looks,” Harriet clucked sympathetically as Lillian fainted dramatically onto a mat.
Sir Whiskerton watched from his perch, smirking. “Clearly, this was a terrible idea.”
Big Red’s Scarecrow Saga
As the chaos unfolded below, Big Red decided to take his yoga practice to the next level. Spotting the scarecrow standing tall in the middle of the field, he bounded over with determination.
“This will be perfect,” Big Red thought aloud. “If I meditate on top of the scarecrow, I’ll achieve ultimate enlightenment!”
Without hesitation, he leapt onto the scarecrow’s shoulders and settled into Lotus Pose. For a brief moment, everything seemed serene—until the scarecrow creaked ominously beneath his weight.
“Uh-oh,” Ditto echoed nervously from the sidelines. “Uh-oh!”
With a loud snap , the scarecrow collapsed mid-pose, sending Big Red tumbling into a pile of straw. The other animals gasped in horror as the once-proud scarecrow lay sprawled across the field, its hat askew and arms dangling limply.
“What have you done?!” Sir Whiskerton exclaimed, hopping down from the roof. “That scarecrow kept the crows away! Without it, Edgar will descend upon our crops like a feathered plague!”
Big Red whimpered, looking genuinely remorseful. “I just wanted to find my center…”
Chaos—and Calm—Ensues
As if on cue, Edgar the crow swooped down, cawing triumphantly. “Looks like lunchtime, everyone!” he croaked, eyeing the scattered vegetables.
Panic erupted among the animals. Doris fluttered wildly, shouting, “We’re doomed! Doomed, I tell you!” while Porkchop snorted sarcastically, “Well, this is peak farm drama.”
Sir Whiskerton stepped forward, tail flicking confidently. “Fear not, my feathered and furry friends. We’ll fix this.”
He quickly devised a plan. Using spare materials from the barn, the animals worked together to rebuild the scarecrow. Rufus fetched sticks for its frame, Doris donated feathers for its stuffing, and even Ferdinand contributed by singing motivational songs (off-key, naturally).
By sunset, the scarecrow stood proudly once again, patched up and ready to resume its duties. Edgar eyed it warily but eventually flew off, muttering something about “overrated snacks.”
A Happy Ending
With the scarecrow restored, Mary Hoppins gathered the animals for one final lesson.
“Remember,” she said gently, “yoga isn’t about perfection—it’s about finding balance within yourself. And knowing your limits.”
Big Red nodded solemnly. “I guess I got a little carried away.”
“You think?” Sir Whiskerton quipped, raising an eyebrow.
Despite the chaos, the animals felt a renewed sense of camaraderie. Even Buckley managed to hold Tree Pose—for approximately three seconds—before toppling over again.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Sir Whiskerton returned to his favorite sunbeam, content in the knowledge that balance had been restored—to the scarecrow and to the farm.
The Moral of the Story
Balance is important—but so is knowing your limits. Sometimes, reaching too high can lead to unexpected tumbles. But with teamwork and a bit of humor, any mess can be cleaned up—and any scarecrow rebuilt.
Until next time, my friends.
The End.
Putin and Trump shock world. Zelensky downgraded. EU, UK got played
All the Signs
Submitted into Contest #245 in response to: Set your story in a world where astrology and the movements of celestial bodies deeply impact the lives of inhabitants.… view prompt
Julia Rajagopal
“Some people want to live simply,” Derek shrugged. Derek’s family had a house on Boxer Island. He’d invited Arthur, but Arthur declined, not wanting to force his overgrown orphan self on his partner’s family.
“The chief wants to talk to us,” the other Derek said, holding his cell phone. So that was the original. Gemini couldn’t duplicate technology.
“I’m sure he does,” Arthur stood. “These murders have a connection, and the killer is working their way up the social ladder.” He glanced away as Derek merged with himself. They left, dodging the uniformed officers and the lab techs in the hallway. Down in the car, Arthur buckled his seatbelt as his partner started the engine.
“So, what do a love guru, a financial advisor, and a homeless guy have in common?” Derek asked as he drove. “That sounds like the start of a dirty joke. But seriously, it’s nothing.”
“They probably share a killer,” Arthur pointed out as he closed his eyes. “Though there are plenty of Scorpio assassins, so maybe not.”
“The victims are also all psychic,” Derek agreed.
“Which means they all probably knew something they shouldn’t,” Arthur agreed. “But is it the same something or different somethings?”
“What do you have so far?” the Chief asked, leaning a thick fist on his desk. As an Aries, he was leadership material, but his style was aggressive on a good day. Arthur sat beside Derek in the chairs on the other side of the desk. The Chief’s office was old and worn, much like the man himself. It was painted in shades of brown, most of which had faded to tan.
“The financial advisor was managing seventy-three accounts,” Arthur reported. “Including the investment portfolio of a restaurant group, endowments for two universities, and a hospital expansion fund.”
“Restaurants?” the Chief perked up. “Any mafia ties?”
“It’s likely,” Derek agreed. “I don’t know a restaurant in this city that isn’t tied to the mafia.”
“And the homeless man?”
“He was admitted to the hospital the day before his death,” Arthur reported. “The attending physician said he was brought in for an overdose, but when they got him conscious, he made a commotion and took off. He was murdered in an alley a day later.”
“Who was his dealer?” the chief asked. “Any connections to the restaurant group?”
“He lives on the East Side,” Derek said. “That’s Lazlo Family territory. I’m not sure if they’re connected to the restaurant group.”
“Forensic accounting will check,” the Chief said.
“What about the love psychic?”
“Nothing so far,” Arthur admitted. “But we were only halfway through the interviews when we caught this case.”
“Split up and get them done. Use that new Virgo woman,” the Chief ordered.
“Interrogator Messi. She can come with me,” Arthur said to his partner, who nodded good-naturedly. The Chief dismissed them, and they returned to their desks, where they reviewed the financial planner’s documents and emails.
By eight, Derek had left, but Arthur kept working. He was never sure if it was because he was a Capricorn or if he loved his job. Several hours later, the sun had risen, and Arthur was no closer to a solution. He rubbed his tired eyes and then jumped. Standing next to his desk was Interrogator Messi. She wore a brown striped suit and a surprised expression.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” she said as she tucked thick brown curls behind dainty ears. “I’m a bit early.”
“No, I’m glad you’re here,” Arthur stood and grabbed his coat. “There are a couple of people I’d like to get to before they go to work.”
“Oh, I’m sure you have time to change your shirt,” Messi said, glancing down at a stain on Arthur’s chest. He blushed and went to the locker room, where he showered and brushed his teeth. He was back in less than ten minutes. Messi was sitting on his desk next to two coffees. She was paging through the love psychic’s pink planner.
“These three people were supposed to meet with Ms. Rollings the day of her death, and these three had meetings booked for the next day,” she held up a slip of paper with names on it.
“We’re still working through the last people she saw,” Arthur said as he took a coffee.
“But why murder someone for something already said,” Messi protested. “The cat’s out of the bag.”
“You have a point.”
“Really?” she asked in surprise. “I mean, it’s just a thought.” She tucked her hair behind her ear again.
“It’s a good thought,” Arthur said. “Let’s do it.”
The first address was a swanky building in the Synastry neighborhood. Arthur and Messi beat rush hour traffic and arrived quickly at the fancy address. The woman was a well-manicured mother of two who had wanted to ask the psychic about her teenage daughter’s first boyfriend. When Messi apologized for interrupting their morning routine, the woman shrugged a cashmere-clad shoulder.
“The nanny has it covered,” she said. “I don’t know what to tell you. I wanted to consult Rollings about Jessica’s new boyfriend. I want to make sure it’s a healthy relationship for her first love.” Arthur thought letting her daughter live her life would be healthier but said nothing. He showed the woman the pictures of the homeless man and the financial advisor, but she didn’t recognize them.
“How did you hear about Ms. Rollings?” Messi asked.
“I heard about her from Tracy Rochester,” the woman answered. “She just got engaged and was supposed to consult with the psychic about her fiancé. I don’t know why, though. He’s a doctor.”
“Oh yes! She’s on our list of people to chat with,” Messi said. Arthur frowned at the breach in protocol.
“If you go now, you’ll catch her leaving yoga. It’s right around the corner,” the woman said, giving them the studio’s name. She then drifted off to check on her children. The detectives let themselves out.
“She’s telling the truth,” Messi told him in the elevator. “She has no idea who did it.”
Arthur and Messi walked to the address and waited at a cafe next door as sweaty white women filed out of the studio.
“There she is,” Messi pointed to a tall, thin woman in a green sports bra. Arthur wasn’t sure how she could tell them apart.
“Tracy Rochester?” Messi asked with a friendly smile.
“That’s me!” the woman smiled. Her smile faded as she glanced up at Arthur’s lurking form. Messi introduced them and ushered the woman to a table at the café before Arthur could speak. He was beginning to see the benefits of having an interrogator on the team.
“We’re just chatting with everyone about their appointments with Ms. Rollings,” Messi said.
“Yeah, of course,” Tracy said, sipping from an expensive water bottle. “It’s no secret. I just got engaged, and I wanted to do a consult. Everyone does it.” By everyone, she meant the wealthy elite who could afford the five-figure fee. Arthur tried to keep a neutral face.
“Congratulations!” Messi said. “So, you were going to consult Ms. Rollings about your fiancé?”
“Yeah, he’s a resident at Saint Anne’s,” Tracy smiled. “Dr. Mike Maddix. He’s in the ER. He literally saves people’s lives.”
“Saint Anne’s?” Arthur spoke up. “How long has he been working there?”
“Like four years,” Tracy replied. “He’s on the fundraising committee. It’s how we met. Last year, we raised over 3 million dollars.”
“That’s impressive,” Arthur pulled out the financial advisor’s picture. “Do you know this man?”
“Sure, that’s Edward Bouchard,” Tracy said. “He just started managing the hospital expansion fund.”
“Are you aware that Edward Bouchard was murdered last night?” Arthur asked. The woman’s eyes widened.
“You’re kidding?” Tracy gasped. “Does Mike know? He just started working with him.”
“We haven’t spoken to Mike,” Messi said. “Do you know when he started working with Edward Bouchard?”
“It was only a couple of weeks ago,” Tracy frowned. “I know because he complained that they brought in a new guy. I don’t know why because the old guy was like a million years old and absolutely useless.”
“We have Dr. Rachel Ableton as the contact for the account,” Arthur said, looking at his phone.
“Oh yeah, Dr. Ableton’s name is on it, but she doesn’t do anything. She puts her name on stuff while everyone else does the work.”
“Before we head out, we noticed that you made an appointment the week before Ms. Rollings died. It was canceled last minute, and then you rescheduled for the day she died,” Messi said.
“Yeah, I had to cancel because Mike had an accident that day!” Tracy said. “It was so weird because he never drives. He crashed his car into a lamppost in a parking lot. Some kid ran out in front of him.”
“Thank you so much for your help,” Arthur said. “We should probably chat with your finance. He’ll be at the hospital this time of day?”
“Oh, always,” Tracy smiled. “Let me know if I can help in any way. I’m sure Mike will want to help, too.”
Arthur and Messi said goodbye to the woman and hurried to their car.
“She’ll be texting him now,” Messi said as Arthur started the car. “She was telling the truth.”
“He won’t run,” Arthur said. “Smart guy like that will think he can fool us.”
“Once he realizes I’m a Virgo, he’ll know he can’t,” Messi grabbed a handle as they turned a corner. Her small shoulder bumped against Arthur’s large elbow. He blushed and moved away. His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. Arthur took out the phone and handed it to Messi.
“Answer it,” he ordered.
“It’s Derek,” Messi said. She pressed the speaker button.
“Arthur!” Derek said. “We got the killer. We contacted the Lazlo family, and they gave up the assassin. They didn’t want the heat. We interviewed him, and sure enough, he killed all three victims.”
“Who hired the assassin?” Arthur asked.
“We don’t know,” Derek admitted. “It was set up through the dark web.”
“We have a lead. We’re heading to Saint Anne’s,” Arthur said. “We’re looking for Dr. Mike Maddix. Send backup.”
“On it,” Derek said. “I’ll head over now.”
“Have them wait in the parking lot,” Arthur said. “We don’t want to spook him.” The car pulled into the hospital parking lot, and Arthur parked in the loading zone.
At the front desk, Arthur and Messi asked for Dr. Maddix and were directed to the break room. They walked through the ER, a bustling place full of hospital beds and patients, nurses and doctors rushing between.
In the breakroom, they found two female nurses and a man in a white lab coat.
“Dr. Maddix?” Arthur approached the man.
“That’s me,” the doctor said. “I hear you’re asking some questions about Edward Bouchard.” Arthur shook the man’s hand. Messi smiled and nodded. The nurses glanced at them, packed up their lunches, and left.
“We just met your fiancé, Tracy,” Messi said. “She’s fantastic!”
“Tracy’s great,” Maddix agreed. “She mentioned you stopped by.”
“She was supposed to have an appointment with Ms. Rollings,” Arthur said. “Were you aware of it?”
“Yes, I knew,” Maddix frowned. “I’m sure she mentioned that I think it’s weird, but she insisted.”
“I understand why you’d be annoyed,” Arthur agreed. “It’s not very trusting.”
“I wasn’t annoyed,” Maddix said. “Just confused. The people I grew up with don’t do things like that.”
“It must be hard to keep up with Tracy’s crowd,” Messi said. “It’s a different world. All of those galas and fundraisers. How long have you been managing the expansion fund?”
“I don’t manage that. I just help out from time to time,” the doctor crossed his arms. “Dr. Abelson manages the account.” Arthur glanced at Messi, who subtly shook her head.
“Dr. Maddix, did you hire someone to kill Edward Bouchard?” Arthur asked.
“Why would I have to hire a killer?” Maddix laughed. “I’m a Cancer. I could block an artery with my power and make it look like a heart attack.”
“But you wouldn’t have an alibi,” Arthur pointed out. “Cancers have to be in the same room as their targets. Most have to touch them.”
“I don’t have to touch anyone,” Maddix said. “I’m a top-level Cancer.”
“Dr. Maddix, why aren’t you answering the question?” Arthur asked.
“You’re a Virgo, aren’t you?” Maddix turned to Messi. “I don’t have to answer any questions without my lawyer present.”
“You aren’t being arrested,” Arthur said. “We are just having a conversation. Don’t you want to help?”
“Of course,” Maddix said. Messi looked at Arthur and shook her head.
“Look, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Maddix stood. “I’m not saying anything else without a lawyer.”
“Then you’ll have to come to the station with us. You have the right to remain silent,” Arthur said and stood. He pulled his handcuffs out of his pocket. “You have the right to legal counsel…” Arthur stopped = as pain ripped through his left shoulder. He fell to his knees. The doctor extended his arms. Messi also fell, grabbing her arm.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Maddix cried. “I’m a good person. I save lives. I deserve a decent life.” The Doctor pinched his fingers, and the pain in Arthur’s chest worsened. He fell to his side. Messi struggled up and raised her right hand. A blinding white light emanated from her palm. Arthur closed his eyes, and it was the last thing he saw.
He awakened in a hospital bed to the worried face of a nurse checking his pulse. Derek stood in the corner of the room.
“Messi?” Arthur asked Derek.
“She’s fine,” Derek said. “She got your guy. Blinded him. They’re down the hall.” Arthur gently pushed the nurse away and stood. They went down the hall, where the other Derek stood beside a uniformed officer in front of a door. Arthur opened the door and went in.
Messi sat in a chair, looking tired. The doctor lay in the bed, hands cuffed to the rails, steel mittens over his hands. White bandages covered his eyes, and his face was burned like he had spent a week on a beach without sunscreen. He was unconscious, but Arthur gave him a wide berth.
“I got the recording,” Messi whispered. She led him out the door, and the uniformed officer took her place.
“Are you ok?” Arthur asked.
“I’m fine,” she said. Before they could say anything else, the Chief appeared from around a corner, three subordinates following.
“There you are!” the Chief called. “Excellent job. The district attorney is confident this will be a slam dunk!” He clapped Arthur on the shoulder, and Arthur winced.
“It was all Messi,” Arthur told his boss.
“Oh, I know,” the Chief smiled at her. “You’re looking at a promotion for this young lady.” This time, Messi winced.
“It’s always been my goal to make detective,” she admitted.
“We’d be proud to have you!” the Chief said. “I think I know a man who could use a partner.” He smiled at Arthur as a nurse came around the corner.
“Both of you should be in bed!” the nurse said, pointing at the detectives. The Chief shooed them away, and they followed the woman to their rooms.
Old South Caramel Cake
Ingredients
Cake
- 3 1/2 cups all-purpose flour, sifted twice before measuring
- 2 teaspoons baking powder
- 1 cup butter, softened
- 2 cups granulated sugar
- 6 eggs
- 1 cup milk
- 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Caramel Frosting
- 3 cups firmly packed brown sugar
- 2 cups milk
- 4 tablespoons butter
- 2 teaspoons vanilla extract
Instructions
- Heat oven to 325 degrees F. Butter two 9 inch layer cake pans and line the bottoms with parchment or wax paper.
- Butter the wax paper. Sift flour with baking powder and set aside.
- In a large mixing bowl, cream butter until fluffy, then gradually add sugar, beating until creamy.
- Add eggs, one at a time, and beat in thoroughly.
- Add flour mixture alternately with the milk, beginning and ending with dry ingredients. Stir well after each addition, but do not over-mix.
- Stir in vanilla extract.
- Turn the batter into the prepared pans.
- Bake until the tops of the layers spring back when lightly touched, about 35 minutes.
- When the cake is done, cool 10 minutes in the pans, then turn out onto cake racks to cool completely.
- Combine brown sugar and milk in a large saucepan. Bring to a boil and cook, stirring constantly, to soft-ball stage (234 to 240 degrees F).
- Remove from heat, add butter and vanilla extract, and beat at high speed until thick enough to hold to the cake when spread. If the frosting becomes too thick, beat in a few drops of hot water.
- Spread Caramel Frosting over one layer of the cake, top with the other layer and cover the top and sides of the entire cake with the remaining frosting.
What did you think of the spat between Trump and Zelenskyy?
In the 1980s, Rajiv Gandhi went to the US for a visit and he was treated like Royalty. Reagan even held an Umbrella for Rajiv when it was raining.
Xi and China welcomed the Sri Lankan President with a full ceremony, giving him the ultimate honor
Neither man had to force their strength
Reagan may be carrying the Umbrella but his strength was so strong that it didn’t need any show of force at all. His personality was enough
So was Xi. The sheer power of the man radiated from within and didn’t need talk or demonstrations
Trump is a vain, petty man where Weakness oozes from within
He is like his bearded buddy of 56 inches and laser eyes from a few thousand miles away
He has to use speech to try and look intimidating and has to make all those “Reality Show” gestures
In reality, his weakness is exposed
Putin and Xi haven’t budged a millimetre to a single statement of his
The truth is The US no longer worries China or Russia. They have reached a level where the US is more a nuisance than anything else
So Trump has to show his strength to Zelensky
The whole dog and pony show was meant for the MAGA masses
Like a low rated reality show
He could have met Zelensky behind closed doors and delivered the same message
Instead by dressing down Zelensky, he likely gained the idiot sympathy from his fellow Ukrainians and even from the leaders of the Global South
And he is making Putin look bad
He is making Putin look like this Goldfinger like Bond Villain who controls Trump by bending over to him so much
It is a comical farce, everything happening in the US is
In fact the world’s greatest patriot could be one of those secret Service agents who reads about Caligula and gets inspired by it
Thanks for the family insights, Metallicman. Always a privilege to read. There’s a lot of stuff concerning the idea of “family” that many accept or put up with, as a matter of convention. Or out of a sense of duty to that convention. No critical thought whatsoever. Some families stick together and siblings remain close friends for life. And that’s great. That’s a family. Others, don’t. And that’s all right, too, provided one recognizes that and moves on, fixing the drama and disfunction firmly in the rear-view mirror. And keeping it there. Under no circumstances should anyone be selflessly obliged to carry other people’s burdens, psychologically or otherwise. And especially given what we now know about OE quantum constructions designed to keep each and every creature in its place. Not an easy challenge to overcome by any stretch, but what’s the alternative? A lifetime of shit and other people’s grievences?
Yah.
Good luck with that.
One of the pleasures of getting older is being able to throw out the conventions that no longer suit us. Perfect hindsight is a very useful tool provided that knowledge is used to good effect in the here-and-now– or moving forward.
Looks like Metallicman went on to master instruments of another galactic sort. And as for his sister, well, going by what we’ve heard so far, that’s not really a place anyone in his right mind would wanna go back and visit, if you’d pardon my saying so.
Onwards and upwards!