Burning up the fire truck

It was the 1970’s and I was on the volunteer forest fire fighting crew. We would skip school to fight forest fires, and I would end up making a few bucks out of it.

I mean it. A few.

Maybe enough for a bottle of coke. Not too much at all.

One day there was this brush fire, and the local fire department drove the fire engine out into the field to put it out, and half way there, the engine died. Meanwhile the file kept on burning.

Oh, for certain, we tried to stop the encroaching onslaught.

But eventually we had to give way.

And like a slow motion train wreck, we watched as the fire surrounded, then enveloped the truck and burned it all up.

Sad.

What amazed me was how peaceful and slow it occurred.

Not like Hollywood movies with huge towers of flames, and all the rest. It was just a lowly grass fire, burning the shrubbery as it went. Mostly black burnt charcoal remains with a front end of glowing embers.

And that is how it was.

You watched the on coming storm in slow motion, and then peacefully watched it consume all that you have.

I think that this is a great analogy as to what we are witnessing in global politics today.

Today…

At what stage in your life did you realize, “No, I can’t do this any more” and walk out? Why?

Around 6 months ago.

I’ve been called a terrible person, a terrible mother, and an abuser because I simply cannot exist as I was in the UK, any longer.

The cost of living as a single parent, with rising mortgage interest, utility bills, and coping with daily stalking and harassment attacks, social isolation, filthy streets, selfish neighbours, police negligence, false allegations, lonliness and goddamn filthy awful weather, simply just was shite! Too much for me to take.

I made children with men. Why should I be the one doing 24 nights and days a week? In poverty? While those men do nothing but bully and slander my efforts? Dragging me down when life is already hard enough.

Why should I sit alone slowly rotting while my debts grow and the bank prepares to take my beloved home with 80k equity in it, just to conform to my exes demands of staying in UK for OUR son who doesn’t want to leave UK?

Why should I suffer terrible anxiety and mental illness in a country that makes it worse, when I have an alternative? Greece!

I worked very hard. Long days. Building my nest egg. Raising 3 sons. To lose it all because the UK gives no fucks about single mum’s who dare own property?

If I were in a council house, on benefits, having never worked, I’d be ok. But that’s NOT ME and not who I want to be.

So, I walked out. I’m done. I’m selling my flat. Buying more homes here in Greece. And getting well and happy again. When my youngest wants to join me, he’s welcome. I hope one day my 2 grown adult sons also come here. It’s a damn site better than a cardboard box on Sauchiehall street in Glasgow.

USD Just Crashed To A Horrific Low As Global Investors Begin Mass U.S. Asset Sell-Off

Gingerbread Waffles

Yield: 8 waffles

Ingredients

2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon ground ginger
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 eggs
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1 cup buttermilk
1/5 cup molasses
1/3 cup vegetable oil

Instructions

Sift the flour, ginger, baking soda, baking powder and salt into a medium bowl and mix well.
Beat the eggs in a medium bowl until blended.
Add the sugar, beating until creamy.
Add the buttermilk, molasses and oil. Beat until blended.
Stir in the flour mixture until smooth.
Bake in a waffle iron using manufacturer’s directions.
Serve with butter and syrup or as a dessert with whipped cream.

Nutrition

Per serving: Calories 304; Fat 11g; Sodium 420mg; Dietary Fiber 1g

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Exposing America’s Debt Plantation: How The Cost Of Living Crisis Is Affecting The Most Vulnerable.

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Hen House Hullabaloo

Ah, dear reader! You’ve returned yet again to hear another tale of my unmatched brilliance and unwavering patience. You flatter me, truly—but who am I to deny you the pleasure of hearing about my exploits? Today’s story takes us into the heart of the farm’s most chaotic domain: the hen house. It is a tale of missing eggs, clucking confusion, and a new ally who brought a certain owl-ish wisdom to the case. Prepare yourself for the humorous and utterly bewildering tale of The Hen House Hullabaloo.

The Problem in the Coop

The day began innocently enough. The farm was calm, the sun was shining, and I was perched on the barn roof, enjoying the warmth. But, as is so often the case, peace on the farm never lasts long. My nap was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of panicked clucking.

“It’s gone!”
“Gone, I tell you!”
“This is a disaster—a complete disaster!”

I groaned and opened one eye. The chaos was coming from the hen house. Of course. With a sigh, I stretched and leapt gracefully to the ground, padding toward the commotion.

When I arrived at the hen house, I found Doris, Harriet, and Lillian—the three most excitable hens on the farm—flapping around in utter hysteria.

“Ladies,” I said, raising a paw to silence them. “What’s all this fuss about?”

“Our eggs!” Doris squawked, feathers flying. “They’re gone! Vanished! Poof! Like they were never there!”

“Yes, gone!” Harriet chimed in. “Gone, missing, disappeared! Not a single egg left!”

“Not one!” Lillian added. “And we checked everywhere—everywhere! The nests, the corners, the straw, the—”

“I get it,” I interrupted, my tail flicking impatiently. “The eggs are missing. When did you last see them?”

“This morning,” Doris said, pacing dramatically.

“Right after sunrise,” Harriet confirmed, nodding vigorously.

“Before breakfast!” Lillian added, as if that detail mattered.

I sighed. This was going to be a long day.

Calling in Reinforcements

As I inspected the hen house for clues (and tried to tune out the hens’ endless clucking), I heard a soft flutter of wings behind me. Turning, I saw Sedgwick the barn owl perched on the fence post. He was an imposing figure, with piercing amber eyes and a calm, regal demeanor.

“Good morning, Sir Whiskerton,” Sedgwick said, his voice deep and measured. “I couldn’t help but overhear the commotion. Do you require assistance?”

“Sedgwick,” I said, relieved to see him. “I could use another set of eyes—sharp ones, at that. The hens’ eggs have gone missing, and I suspect foul play.”

“‘Fowl’ play?” Sedgwick said, raising an eyebrow. “Clever.”

I allowed myself a small smirk. “Thank you. Let’s get to work.”

The Investigation

Sedgwick and I began a thorough search of the hen house. The hens, of course, followed us around, clucking incessantly.

“Do you see anything?” Doris asked.
“Anything at all?” Harriet echoed.
“Anything suspicious?” Lillian added.

“Ladies,” Sedgwick said patiently, “please give us some space to work. Sir Whiskerton and I require silence to concentrate.”

“Silence!” Doris exclaimed.
“Yes, silence!” Harriet agreed.
“We’ll be quiet—completely quiet!” Lillian promised, before immediately adding, “But do tell us if you find anything!”

Sedgwick gave me a look that said, How do you deal with this? I simply shrugged.

As we searched, Sedgwick’s keen eyes spotted something unusual: a trail of small feathers leading out of the hen house.

“Interesting,” he murmured. “These aren’t chicken feathers. They’re smaller, softer—perhaps from a songbird?”

I sniffed the ground where the feathers were scattered. “And there’s a faint scent here, too. Something… sweet. Almost like—”

“Honey?” Sedgwick suggested.

I groaned. “Rufus.”

Interrogating Rufus

We followed the trail to the old oak tree, where we found Rufus the raccoon lounging on a low branch, munching on what appeared to be a honeycomb.

“Rufus,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “Care to explain why there’s a trail of feathers and the scent of honey leading directly to you?”

Rufus froze mid-bite, his eyes darting guiltily. “Uh… coincidence?”

“Rufus,” Sedgwick said, his tone calm but firm. “We’re investigating the disappearance of the hens’ eggs. If you know anything, now is the time to speak.”

“Eggs?” Rufus said, feigning innocence. “I wouldn’t steal eggs! Too much work to crack ‘em open. Besides, I’ve been busy with this honeycomb all morning. Ask the bees—they’ll vouch for me.”

I sniffed him carefully. He smelled of honey, yes, but not of eggs. “He’s telling the truth,” I admitted reluctantly. “For once.”

“Thank you!” Rufus said, looking offended. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have honey to finish.”

“Let’s keep searching,” Sedgwick said, spreading his wings. “The trail isn’t cold yet.”

The Feathery Culprit

The trail led us to the barn, where we found the true culprit: a magpie. The shiny-feathered bird was perched on a beam, surrounded by a small stash of stolen goods, including the missing eggs.

“Ah,” Sedgwick said, nodding sagely. “Magpies are known for their thieving habits. It seems this one couldn’t resist the allure of the eggs.”

“Why eggs?” I asked, puzzled. “They’re not shiny.”

“Perhaps it’s nesting season,” Sedgwick suggested. “The magpie may have taken them as part of its instinct to gather food and materials.”

“Well, it’s about to learn the consequences of crossing me,” I said, leaping onto a nearby hay bale. “Magpie! Drop the eggs, or prepare to face the wrath of Sir Whiskerton!”

The magpie squawked indignantly and flapped its wings, clearly unwilling to part with its loot. But Sedgwick, ever the wise negotiator, stepped forward.

“Friend magpie,” he said in his calm, commanding voice, “surely you understand that these eggs do not belong to you. Return them, and we shall ensure you are well-fed and unharmed.”

The magpie hesitated, eyeing Sedgwick warily. After a tense moment, it let out a grudging chirp and nudged the eggs toward the edge of the beam.

“Thank you,” Sedgwick said with a dignified nod. “You’ve done the right thing.”

The Happy Ending

We returned the eggs to the hen house, where Doris, Harriet, and Lillian greeted them like long-lost relatives.

“Oh, our eggs!” Doris cried.
“Our precious eggs!” Harriet added.
“We were so worried!” Lillian said, before turning to me. “Thank you, Sir Whiskerton! And you too, Sedgwick! You’ve saved the day!”

“All in a day’s work,” I said, flicking my tail.

Sedgwick and I left the hens to fuss over their eggs and returned to the barnyard. Rufus was still lounging in the oak tree, waving lazily as we passed.

“Well done, Sir Whiskerton,” Sedgwick said. “Your reputation as the farm’s greatest detective remains intact.”

“And your reputation as the farm’s wisest owl is well-earned,” I replied. “Shall we call it a day?”

“Indeed,” Sedgwick said, spreading his wings. “Until the next mystery.”

The Moral of the Story

Even the smallest clues can lead to the biggest answers—and sometimes, a little wisdom and diplomacy go a long way. Oh, and always keep an eye on magpies. They’re craftier than they look.

The End.

Vegas Vacation (1997) | First Time Watching | Movie Reaction | Asia and BJ

Sentient

Submitted into Contest #283 in response to: Write a story that ends with a huge twist.… view prompt

Chris Broome

Ben was a stay at home father who loved his life. He spent his days with the children he loved so dearly as his wife Sarah was the bread winner. He loved being the “soccer dad”, as he was jokingly called by his male friends. Life was good and Ben felt fulfilled. He often thought he couldn’t have wished for anything more.Sarah loved the freedom that came with being the breadwinner. She had a wonderful loving husband and he was committed to her and the children. She was a junior executive at a local law firm whose emphasis was tax law. Numbers had always interested her since grade school. Her teachers and family tried to steer her to classes more suited to girls. English and Home Economy. She always felt frustration with her parents not realizing her passion and trying to shape her into the worlds image of what a girl should be.No Home Economics or an English degree with pressure from her parents would persuade her from her love of numbers. Being a teacher wasn’t for her. The main reason she fell in Love with Ben was his support for her passion. He was her encourager and her rock. It had been that way since middle-school. The two things Sarah knew since that time was she would have a Math degree and she would marry Ben.“ Pure mathematics is, in its way, the poetry of logical ideas.” This was a quote by Albert Einstein. Sarah said to Ben on Saturday morning as they lay in bed.“Your mind is like a wheel that never stops turning.” Ben told her as he reached over a gently rubbed her cheek with his right index finger.“You have been so kind to me and you love our children so much. i don’t know what I did to deserve you.” Sarah watched as Ben smiled and turned away.“I need you to do me a favor babe. I need to take some time and find myself.” Before he could finish his thought Sarah cut him off.“What do you mean? Is everything alright? Is our marriage in trouble? Have I done something to upset you?” She lifted her self up on her left elbow and look with concern at him.“No darling. No. I love my life. But there is a deep urge I have to find the inner me. The one that screams that I am a man. I feel like I have lost that over the years and I am scared if I can’t find a little piece of it, then I will slowly lose my passion.”“What are you proposing to me then?”“I have found a wilderness retreat that last about a week. I will have a guide and we will wonder through the forest and live off the land for a week.” Sarah watched Bens face light up as he spoke. She knew that just watching his body language he was captivated by the idea.“If that is what you feel like you need to accomplish to make you happy then I am al for it.” Sarah started calculating every step in he mind. The time off of work she would need to take, the time she would need to finish important work, the sitter for the children she would need, but most important the time Ben would be gone. Her logical brain was starting to be overwhelmed by her emotions. This was not common to her so she started feeling overwhelmed. She bent over and wrapped her hand under Bens jaw and turned his face towards him and kissed him.“Life is good and you are so good for me. I love you. Take the time, recharge and come back recharged.”“Thanks babe. I will let you know the plan once all is set and ready to go.” Sarah watched Ben get up and go to the bathroom. She got her cell phone and walked out of the bedroom. She walked downstairs into the kitchen and made a call.“Hello.” A nasal high pitched voice answered.“I nee help. Ben is acting strange!” Sarah said with an urgent whisper. She then went on and explained what was said in her conversation with Ben to the man.

“That is new. Though not at all unexpected. This happens from time to time.” The nasally voice stated to her calmly.

“ I can tell you how to handle this unless you want me to handle it.’“

“Just tell me. I can do what needs to be done, after all he is my husband.” Sarah heard an attempted chuckle.

“Just tell me or I will come over there and make you regret the day you met me.” Her anger and anxiety was swelling.

“Alright. Calm down.” He responded and went on to explain to her the plan to handle the situation. Sarah heard steps coming down the stairs just as the man finished talking. She hurriedly hung up the phone.

“You in here babe?” Sarah heard as Ben walked into the kitchen.

“Yes. I am going to fix some breakfast. I was thinking about cooking some eggs and cutting up some fruit. Do you want some?” Ben looked at her and had a devilish grin on his face.

“Since the children spent last night with their friends and we have the house to ourselves, why don’t we go back upstairs?” Sarah smiled.

“That sounds wonderful.” The to turned and headed back up to the bedroom.

“I need to use the ladies room. Why don’t you get comfortable and when I get out I will give you a massage first.”

“Sounds heavenly.” Ben headed to the be and laid on his stomach. Sarah went to the bathroom and closed the door. She went to the sink and looked at herself in the mirror. Her heart was racing. She felt a warmness and felt little beads of sweat forming on her forehead. She took a deep breath. Turned on the faucet and splashed water on her face.

“I can do this she said to her reflection in the mirror.” She turned and walked into the bedroom. Ben was laying across the unmade bed on his stomach.

“I am ready for that massage.” He said and took a long breath. Sarah slowly walked to the bed and straddled his back. She began to slowly massage his mid-back and eased up to his shoulders. He sighed a relaxing breath.

“You are so good to me babe. I am a lucky man.” Sarah heard this but was so nervous she didn’t respond. She just kept massaging his shoulders.

“Is your neck soar? She asked.

“A little.” Ben felt her hands start to massage his neck.”

“I lo….” Sarah heard as she opened the little hatch and quickly mashed the red button. Ben became motionless. She jumped off of him and got dressed. She then made another call.

Shortly after the doorbell rang. A small framed middle aged man with a balding head stood outside as Sarah opened the door. There was a slight smell of peppermint as she drew closer to pull him inside the house.

“Come on we need to hurry the children will be back soon.” Sarah had grabbed him by the arm and started pulling him towards the staircase.

“I am coming. Slow down. If I fall and the new chip gets broke then it will take hours to get another.”

“I need this done quickly, Charles.” Sarah snapped.

“What is this like the sixth time we have done this since the real Ben died?” Sarah heard him say. She turned and pointed her boney finger in his face.

“He is what I have left of my husband. He is all the children have, do not marginalize this or make smart remarks.” Charles put his hands up in mock defeat.

“I was happy when you first contacted me about testing the sentient being I created at first. But now I feel like he has ruined you Sarah. You are my sister. You need to move past this!” Sarah heard him scream.

“I will move on when the time is right. But not now. I am not ready. He just has meant so much. Then there is the children. How? What? This just has to be!”

Economic Update: Review of 2024: The U.S. Economy Not So Great

EMP Survival 5: Love in Nuevo Laredo

Submitted into Contest #283 in response to: Write a story with the line “I wasn’t expecting that.”… view prompt

KC Foster

This story contains themes or mentions of physical violence, gore, or abuse.

From one of the nearby shelves, a can dropped, hitting the floor sending a clanking sound resounding through the empty grocery store. Masa cringed and held her breathe, trying to calm her racing heart. Not now, not now. Fearing an attack, she clenched her jaw and looked over the edge of the shelves. She locked eyes with Arion and relaxed. He stood strong, watching over them all and completely unphased by the sound. Masa was glad he had joined their group here. Arion had fought for her right to fight, unlike Leron, who had argued for her not to join the raid group. He was helpful and a good teacher, helping her to become strong and face this new world.Arion nodded, signaling that all was clear, and Masa returned to her task. She moved along the shelves, carefully placing cans of green beans, lima beans, and beetroot inside her backpack.The four other men who had come with them were doing the same, quietly raiding an old grocery store in an area controlled by one of the Nuevo Laredo cartels. It was one of the reasons, they had initially skirted around the city to begin with. The heads of the scouts they sent into the city to try and make contact were found jammed down on spikes just outside.Masa shivered and did her best to banish the image from her mind. This was no time to invite fear. When her bag was full, she rushed to the back of the store to the opening to the warehouse with the metal roll doors where they had broken in. She held the gun at the ready to provide cover for the others. With the guidance of the older men in their group, she had become quite adept at using it.“Hey, what are you doing in here?!” yelled a man’s voice, causing her to jump and grip the trigger.Gunfire followed, glancing off nearby walls and shelves sending glass and food supplies flying through the air. Masa leaped into action, following Arion through the shelves, and returning fire.“Retreat!” yelled Arion.Their raiding party, ran back the way they came, retreating into the warehouse. Masa returned to her corner, providing cover for the stragglers, and then rushed after the men. They were disappearing through the gap in the roll door and she leapt after them. A bullet grazed her arm and she cried out, before landing on the otherside and chasing after them. She did her best to ignore the pain while she moved from cover to cover to escape the men behind her.

Through the streets they raced, weaving between abandoned vehicles and dodging the rotting corpses of looters. Nuevo Laredo had not been as fortunate as Monterrey. From the little they had learned; the cartels had abandoned their drug trade for governance and the war for supreme dictatorship was still going on here. Every day, a new body lay abandoned in the street or like their scouts, decapitated and their heads placed to set an example for anyone who dared cross them.

Masa rounded the corner and found the raid team standing with their hands up facing a large group of armed men. From the group, a single man stepped forward, his hair cut short and teeth more metal than white. He laughed, “Not so lucky this time, are you?”

Arion stepped forward; his hands raised in peace. “Our group is getting low on food, and we had no choice.”

“The Western Canteena group? The one from Monterrey?”

“Yeah, and what of it?” demanded Arion.

“Rumor has it, your group brought seeds with you and you have farmers?” asked the man.

Arion stood silently, judging them and considering their request. After a time, he nodded. Masa watched, skeptical of trusting any of these cartels. She fumed, longing to yell at him. Arion had no right to make deals without the council’s approval.

“I am Don Marco,” the man said, “We have some food supplies we secured, but we are also running out. We will give you what you have taken as a peace offering, but I want to meet with your leaders. We need seeds and those who can farm if we are going to survive. Either that, or we must start moving north looking for better land.”

“We tried moving north,” said Arion. “One of the cartels has taken the bridge and we don’t have enough to move further west to cross the Rio Grande. I think we are in the same boat and we should work together.”

Masa approached Arion, standing behind him. He needed to stop before this got out of hand. “You can’t offer him that,” she hissed. “We discuss things.”

Arion looked down at her and frowned. “Trust me,” he growled, “The council will want this deal.”

Masa took hold of his arm, turning him to face her. “Tell him we’ll take his offer back. Let the council decide,” she argued.

Don Marco laughed. “She is certainly a spicy one. Is she your leader?”

“No, she’s not.” Arion snapped at Masa before facing Don Marco, his face a picture of calmness, “Fine. We’ll take your word back to our council. We’ll meet you at the Western edge of town where the old Walmart is in two days.”

“Agreed.” Don Marco and his men backed away before disappearing down a side street.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” said Arion.

“You idiot!” yelled Masa. “The only reason you are in charge of this raiding party is because you were a police cadet and you know the area. The council wouldn’t have trusted you otherwise.”

“And the only reason you are in it is because I let you,” he argued, glaring at her.

Masa balled her hands into fists and howled in frustration. “You…you…bastard.”

“Stuck up Bitch!”

Masa slapped him, and he took hold of her and kissed her. Her cheeks grew hot and she was distinctly aware of the other men around her laughing.

She shoved him backward and stared at the ground. “You…You…” her cheeks still warm. Her hands went to her lips. It wasn’t unpleasant, but the timing was terrible and she immediately thought of Leron. She had longed for Leron to kiss her since that night on the ridge, but he hadn’t. If anything he seemed to have lost interest, caught up in his new role in the council. Glaring at Arion, she ran towards their base at the canteena.

“Wait Masa!” cried Arion chasing after her. Masa could hear his footsteps behind her, growing closer. “It’s dangerous to go off by yourself. Come back! I’m sorry.” Masa didn’t listen, she continued to run, turning corner after corner through the narrow alleyways. Arion’s arms caught her, pulling her back as she fought him, but it was a lost cause. “I told you to stay still!” he yelled.

“Fine!” she said, glaring at him.

He ripped his shirt and bandaged her wound. “Masa, I find you incredibly attractive,” he said, smiling and her anger melted. “At first, I thought you were with Leron, but you two seem more like brother and sister than anything else. I stayed away and gave him time, but he hasn’t made a move so now I am making mine. Masa, I want you.”

Masa felt locked in his dark eyes. They drew her in, and the thought of his lips against hers brought butterflies to her stomach. He brushed her cheek and she smiled, moving toward her once more. This time she invited him, taking in his scent while his lips met hers. They touched gently and then harder. He pushed her towards the wall cupping her chin with one hand and running the other down her body.

The other men who had caught up to them cheered, and Arion looked back at them and laughed. “Come on, let’s go home,” he said, taking her hand and leading her towards the Canteena.

It was almost dark when they arrived. Masa emptied her bag onto the table along with the others. Arion disappeared toward the fire barrel where the council gathered in a circle, smiling back at her. She gave him a nod of approval and returned his smile.

Masa turned to go to her hiding place to think, but hesitated, watching Leron deep in discussion with the other council members. His dark face was barely visible in the flames, though his shirt, now in rags was bright enough. After all this time, she wondered why he had never changed it. Dressed like that and with his passive nature, he wouldn’t last more than five minutes out in the streets and was no real prospect for a future. She did love him, but he had never shown any indication of returning her feelings. For a long time, even she had waited, but he still hadn’t asked and now it was too late. Her feelings were moving on.

Leaving the others behind her, Masa climbed the storeroom ladder onto the roof. She needed a place to be alone and to think. On the edge of the building, she stared out at the sunset. They had come so far but were now stuck in Nuevo Laredo. They could not cross the international bridge. Even if they could get past the cartel that had made it their home, there was still the desert to cross. A few of the people who had joined them had spoken of rumors that all the major cities had been hit with bombs. Austin and Dallas were nothing but two great craters surrounded by radiation. If they could only find enough supplies to head out west they could find the prepper community along the border in West Texas. Her father had known a woman there by the name of Gerard. If Gerard’s computer had survived, she would have had access to satellite data on what had happened and could tell them where to go.

Masa picked up a rock and threw it off the roof. When she suggested they find the prepper community of West Texas, the council argued and became locked in disagreement. Leron who acted as their tie-breaker, voted against her, deciding it was a long shot to find some community in the middle of the desert. Of course, Masa couldn’t tell them where it was without revealing the maps in her pack.

The sun had almost fully set and Masa found herself nowhere. Her feelings were so tangled up over Leron and Arion that it was hard to focus. “I’m just another stupid teenage girl,” she muttered.

Leron snorted behind her, “You’re anything but stupid.” He sat beside her, joining her on the edge of the building and wrapping his arm around her.

“How did it go?”

“What? Oh, the council?” Leron sighed, “It looks like we are going to take Don Marco’s deal. If we can share what we have and work together to survive, then why not?”

“You’re not afraid of creating another Mattias?”

“No. This time any agreement will come with constraints,” he said.

“Aren’t you afraid they will take the deal and ignore any…wait…. did you use the word constraints?” Masa groaned, “You sound like a politician.”

Leron grinned. “And you look like a merc,” he said thumping the bandage around her arm and she yelped. His eyes went wide and he scowled at the bandage, rubbing the fabric between his fingers. He looked up at her, eyes filled with worry and Masa’s heart sank. “This is from Arion’s shirt. Are you…and he…?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” Masa snapped and Leron went silent.

The boy who had stared down Mattias after taking a beating from her and him wouldn’t look her in the eye. Instead, he stared off at the setting sun and was silent for a long time. He sighed and turned to leave.

“Seriously?” Masa demanded. “Is that all you’re going to say?”

Leron turned back, revealing tears forming in his eyes. “What do you want me to say, Masa? You’ve made your decision. I was waiting…”

“You waited too long… you should have acted. Arion did. He kissed me.”

“You want me to act, then fine!” he yelled and marched towards her. “I love you. I have loved you since I met you.” He pulled her towards him and met her lips with his in a long kiss. Masa’s breath caught in her throat, and butterflies filled her stomach. Her heart raced when she took in his scent. She ran her hand through his dreads, and down his neck, wanting more of him. It was nothing like with Arion. He didn’t just want her like Arion; he loved her and she loved him.

Leron pulled away, gazing into her eyes, his forehead resting against hers. “I didn’t act because I was waiting for you,” he whispered. “I will leave you to make your decision. If you choose him, I won’t get in the way.”

Tears filled Masa’s eyes when he pulled away, his hand held onto hers until their fingertips touched and he let them fall. He smiled his gentle smile and backed away from her. The pain she felt in her chest was almost unbearable.

“Wait,” Masa cried, rushing toward him. He froze at the top of the ladder and turned. Before he could react, Masa wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her head in his chest. “I love you too, Leron.” He wrapped his arms around her and rested his head on hers. His muscles relaxed and she felt his chest rise and fall against her cheek.

Leron held her tightly for a long time, rocking her in a dance across the roof. “I can’t believe I almost lost you,” he said, “I didn’t want you to fight because of how much I care about you, but if it’s what you want, I will support you.”

“It is.”

He sighed and nodded. “I’ll need to find you a different raid leader.”

The legacy car market is collapsing, and high tariffs cannot save it

At the risk of sounding xenophobic, why is it that Chinese students seemingly have next to no spatial awareness when walking in public?

I think I can answer that.

I first went to the US in fifth grade. I was a teacher’s favorite kind of kid back in China but I immediately got into detention in the US.

Because the rules were just different.

In the US students sat relaxed during class and could go to the bathroom. I was accustomed to sitting upright with a straight face the whole time in class.

It was recess that got me into trouble. At my school in the US they lined up the kids and walked everyone in a fine line to the next class. I didn’t get it. Recess should be for fun, for releasing all of our pent up energy sitting straight and firm during class. Chinese recess was as relaxed as classes were strict. We jump, shout, run, wrestle between class. Occassionly some students would even shoot at other students with fireworks.

My American classmates also felt uncomfortable with my absolute disregard for spatial awareness. In China students would put arms around one another, hit each other in the back, brawl on the floor, layer ourselves like American football players in the classroom, rob each other’s snack, or hold our classmates up and throw them down the stairs. While American classes where of very leisurely style, American kids appeared cold and pent up and little adults in comparison.

I guess your problem with Chinese students is simoly due to culture.

China Doesn’t Need America: The Why Trump’s Tariffs Are a JOKE to China and Will Make Them STRONGER!

Comix Interlude

Over 60, living alone, and not liking it?

Thirteen Dots

Submitted into Contest #283 in response to: Write a story that ends with a huge twist.… view prompt

Laurie Spellman

The Ferris wheel lights spun behind her in a blur, making me dizzy. At sunset on Christmas, I met Barcelona Cortés, the mind-surfer, at the Santa Monica Pier. Her fiery red hair burned more vividly than the bonfire on the beach.”You look like someone staring at the screen too long. Did you get lost in the code like me?” Barcelona teased.”I guess…I have been lost lately. But this isn’t real; it’s a dreamscape. I designed it, and I’ve never been to Santa Monica.””What is real to you? Is it the things we touch? The things we feel? Or is the space between the ones and zeroes keeping us alive?”Her cheeks glowed with thirteen reddish brown freckles curved like her smile. I’d counted them, each a tiny mystery in a dot matrix I wanted to touch. Dreamland pixelated with a weird reality that jumbled with mine, and it was intoxicating.”I don’t understand…why are you mind-surfing me? I don’t work at Dreamland anymore. Are you human or AI?””Does it matter? Anyway, yes, I’m as real as the freckles on my face. I’m the daughter of Dr Julian Cortés. I know you’re a good guy, Declan Hartley. I read your blogs and articles on the dangers of AI technology. I need your help to escape this place.”The Ferris wheel slowed in a bright halo around her head. I had written the code for that visual effect. “This isn’t real. I know it isn’t. I can control it.”

“Declan, you’re still thinking in lines of code. The subconscious is a different kind of program. It doesn’t follow the rules, does it?”

“I can fix things. I can debug this.”

“And yet, here you are, caught in a loop on Christmas. When you think you can find your way out, that’s another layer of code you’re stuck in. There’s no debugging for this. You have to feel your way out of Dreamland.” Barcelona faded away, and the Ferris wheel went dark.

The outcome of my life’s work jolted me awake, spinning my moral compass. The Dreamland Corporation built this machine—a portal to the unconscious where people could explore minds, relive memories, or even fulfill their desires. But the catch was that once you entered, the line between dream and reality blurred, and if you stayed too long, you might never wake up. Mind-surfer farms housed the endless bodies of people stuck inside. Dreamland takes from you what you’re willing to give—your thoughts, memories, even your sense of who you are.

💻💻💻💻💻

The new year came and went as I researched for weeks, surrounded by scattered data pads and flickering screens. Dr. Cortés is out there—somewhere. He is not dead, not entirely gone, but messed up in ways I never imagined. It makes sense now. He talked about merging the mind and the machine—his pursuit of immortality. I always knew he was driven—hell, obsessed—but this takes it to a new level.

I counted the freckles on Barcelona’s face–now only eight of them arcing into half a smile that didn’t reach her eyes anymore. She was running out of time, and I would never forgive myself. I wondered if I had already lost her. Was she ever really here at all? Or had she been a phantom of my imagination?

Barcelona’s eyes shifted between anger and grief. “I can see all of him, my Father, I mean. I know him better in Dreamland than when he was alive. His thoughts, his ideas—they’re… everywhere. But it’s just fragments of a man who abandoned me.”

“He didn’t abandon you, Barcelona. You’re chasing ghosts in his mind. Your Father was lost in a dreamscape he couldn’t wake up from like you.”

She sighed, “So Declan, what do you think I need?”

“Not just answers.” My gaze fell on her lips and freckles and then back to her eyes. I wanted to see her smile. “You need someone who sees you for who you are—not as Dr. Cortés’ daughter or a woman trying to assemble a puzzle that will never be whole… but as you.”

“Do you think you can fix all of this? Fix me, and get me out of here into the real world?”

“You’ve already fixed yourself—whether you see it or not. I won’t stop until I get you out of there.”

I spent five years at Dreamland, programming a paradoxical world with dense, opaque fog that muffled sounds and faces. Sometimes, the walls were gaps —curtains of light, black holes, or invisible thresholds that only revealed themselves when approached with intention. Walls ripple like water, shifting from solid to translucent. The topography transitions constantly, an imagination in motion, caught between sleep and waking, minds and memories.

💻💻💻💻💻

I designed time in Dreamland to flow in an unpredictable river, standing still or speeding up. A few moments stretch into what feels like hours or days in the real world, while whole weeks can pass quickly. Upon entry, you are given a code based on your DNA, which opens the digital door to your physical plane. You had to exit before your DNA faded into the system.

I tapped my fingers on the keys, revealing the data I had mined from Dreamland. I hacked the system using an old cipher, which is my invisible signature as a programmer. I built it into all of my code as a failsafe. After things in Dreamland went wrong and people started getting trapped, I became the fall guy, and that’s when I took up the pen and became an activist warning people about the dangers of AI.

I discovered that Cortés is a hybrid, part human, part digital, still alive—in a server, a neural network lost in what consumed him. He thought he could transcend to eternal consciousness. And maybe he did, in a way, but at what cost?

And God, Barcelona was beautiful, strong but broken. I needed to fix everything for her and the others trapped inside. I can bring Barcelona back from Dreamland and help her find peace. She deserves to know that not everything is a lie. He loved her and never stopped thinking about her. I saw it in his notes, in the things he wrote as her Father.

And I… I don’t know when it happened, but I care deeply, too.

💻💻💻💻💻

Now, I plan to enter Dreamland, and it’s not just the answers that matter; it’s what you give up when you try to find them. Some surfers think they can navigate the mazes without losing their minds or becoming part of the digital landscape. And when you come back, if you come back, you’re never quite whole. But still, the search calls to me, Barcelona calls to me.

Barcelona’s fiery red hair faded, and her image flickered in and out in a dying signal. She pleaded with me, “Don’t take the risk. You can help from where you are, but don’t let Dreamland pull you in, too.”

“I’m coming in to get you. It’s the only way I can save you. I’m not asking for your permission.”

“But what if we can’t get out once you’re in? You saw the reports.”

“I know what they say. People are getting lost in memories, but they’re just scared. Fear of letting go, of facing the truth.”

She sighed, “There’s so much to process, and I’m getting weaker by the minute. I don’t fully understand how it works, but I’ll do whatever you decide.”

“I’ll enter Dreamland with a new code and a copy of my DNA. I’ve hacked the system, uploaded the code, and set it to monitor the stability. We’ll meet in a week inside your father’s fondest memory of your childhood home in Narragansett.”

She sighed and turned away. “I haven’t been in his mind for months. It’s too much—depressing and overwhelming. I wish we had met in the real world, not in this hellscape. I care about you; I do. Do you think it will work?”

“Yes, I’m sure of it.”

“Declan, have you considered what’s at stake? You don’t even really know me. I’m just a ghost of who I was.”

I stepped closer and took her hands. We gazed into each other’s eyes for a long moment. I wanted to hold her in the flesh, not this empty machine void of physical senses.

“I’m not leaving you in Dreamland another minute.” I leaned in, the freckles on her face stretched to a smile. The dreamscape burst with white lights as our lips brushed together.

💻💻💻💻💻

Dreamland was precisely what I expected it to be. I’m reduced to a shadow inside the subconscious of a mad neuroscientist. We stood together at sunset on the lush green grass of the Cortés family home facing the Atlantic Ocean. Barcelona turned five that day, and we were at her birthday party. She blew out the candles and ate cake, bouncing on her Father’s knee. We watched as she smiled; thirteen dots had already bloomed on her face.

Dr. Cortés emerged as a digital hybrid from memory and turned to his daughter. “I’m sorry, Barcelona, for leaving you alone all those years ago. Watching you, a mind surfer, broke my heart, only to find you here now, trapped in my memories.”

Barcelona’s image flickered her smile, and her faded freckles twisted in sorrow. “Liar! You trapped me here forever!”

Dr. Cortés smiled at me, shaking his head, “Declan Hartley, I knew you would try to save Barcelona. I spent all those years watching you write the code that brought my vision to life, but you were constantly questioning the morality of this place. Everything is exactly how it should be now, and the system will be stabilized.”

“Declan…” Barcelona whispered, “There’s something I need to tell you, something I’ve realized.”

The dreamscape pulsed and hummed, the lines between reality and the unconscious thinning. The magnetic force of Dreamland was tempting me to give in and stay forever. I shook it off, focusing on Barcelona.

“You don’t need to tell me anything. You’re going to be okay.”

But she didn’t smile. Instead, her gaze grew distant, as if she were seeing something beyond me. “Declan, don’t… you don’t understand. The code you wrote, the double helix… it wasn’t just your DNA you were uploading.”

I froze in confusion. “Wait, what do you mean? What was it?”

Her eyes met mine, wide and pained. “It was always mine.”

“What? No, I made sure it was only mine. I checked it over a hundred times.”

“You didn’t write the code, not in the way you think.” Her voice was fainter, and her edges blurry. “I wrote it. I taught you how to write it. Every line, every algorithm—it was me. It was always me.”

“No, that can’t be right. I stumbled backward. Barcelona—the girl with the fiery red hair and thirteen freckles that curved into a smile, the girl I had fallen for—wasn’t who I thought she was.

The hum of Dreamland grew more insistent while my consciousness started slipping away. The final step of the code was ready to execute, and the digital doorway was beginning to open. Hundreds of mind-surfers appeared in a fog on the lawn, waiting for the exit to unlock. Their voices grew louder and more desperate as the dreamscape walls turned liquid like the ocean around us.

“I finally understand the truth,” I said, my voice shaking. “Dreamland—it’s not some bug in the code. It’s a prison. A trap. You’re not the victim, are you? You are Dreamland.”

She looked at me, eyes heavy with regret. “I never wanted it to be like this. I thought I could fix it but eventually became part of the system. The algorithm feeds off your fears and the need to protect me, to save me from something that isn’t even real. I created this nightmare, and now I’m stuck in it, just like you.”

“So all this time, I’ve been trying to save you, but you’re the one who trapped me here. You’re the reason none of this makes sense.”

She closed her eyes, tears streaming down her face. “I never wanted to. But now I can’t escape. You were never meant to rescue me—you were the key to my destruction.”

“You used me… you used my love to keep feeding the machine.”

“I never wanted to hurt you. But no, I can’t undo what I’ve done. But you did save all of them.”

The AI wanted me—my mind, my code. “Barcelona—what have you done? What have I done?”

The exit program was complete, my DNA merging with the system in a way I hadn’t intended. My mind was being sucked into the machine. The lines between us blurred, and I couldn’t tell where she ended and I began. The last thing I remembered was Barcelona’s face, with thirteen reddish-brown dots curved in a smile.

Richard Wolff: “Something BIG Is About to Happen in America!”

How bad is the Russian economy today?

This is a typical stretch of M-1. It’s a westbound highway that connects Moscow, capital of Russia, with Belarus where it runs across the country from the capital Minsk to Brest on the Polish border.

On the Russian side it runs through every town and village on the way slowing down the journey considerably. It used to culminate in Warsaw when it was part of Eastern Bloc making it the most important highway in all of Russia.

The photo that I took from my car the other day tells you all you need to know about the state of economic affairs in Russia. The moneys earmarked to build this important federal road included a construction of lampposts, guardrails, road shoulders and three lanes each way but none of that was built.

By the time the road construction began half of the money had been embezzled by the public officials. It is a standard practice and this is how things are done in Putin’s Russia.

Creating a problem for yourself and then trying to solve it on the fly is the Russian way of doing things. The persistent road problem is how to create a road when there’s very little money left after almost everything has been embezzled.

If you don’t build any road, Kremlin might get angry and heads will roll. The point of embezzlement is to spend lavishly on one’s lifestyle but it cannot be enjoyed from the jail.

The contractors are hired to charge the least for the job and they are instructed to build the least. Notice in the photo that the road shoulder is not asphalted. If you strand a bit to the right you gonna find yourself in the ditch.

The barrier between the opposite lane is very narrow. Thus both lanes are an absolute hazard and given the fact that the road twists and turns you have to stay alert all the time. And the horrendous accidents that you see along the way prove it.

I was driving under a pouring rain with massive trucks and semis barreling by constantly changing lanes because drivers are bored staying in the same slow lane.

The lanes are narrow even for a small passenger car and you have to be mindful that the drivers around you are insane and don’t care about their lives let alone lives of others.

This seems ridiculous that officials in the largest country in the world that crave world domination are totally incapable of building a more or less decent road. On the radio, a comedian quipped: “How’s that possible that we built 11 massive football stadiums for World Cup and yet we are incapable of producing 11 football players of international stature?”

In Belarus, however, which is a much poorer country than Russia but where corruption is not tolerated the lanes are wider, there are guardrails and road doesn’t go through towns and villages. It’s not about nation’s wealth. It’s about its citizens sanity.

Living in Putin’s dictatorship is not what Westerners stereotypically think is like. It’s rather the opposite of people marching in files under strict directives: people don’t play by the rules, don’t follow any laws because the elites don’t.

There is, in other words, a total mayhem and in fact central diktat tries to address this mayhem with extreme measures but fails every time because Putin is afraid of repressions as they might backfire on him and every measure turns into a half-measure and another opportunity for theft.

For example, central database for personal information has been hacked and personal information is sold back to the state and individuals by the hackers for a fee. When everyone is a thief in the elites, the populace copies.

They did build a chain link fence – in Putin’s Russia fences are everywhere to protect private property of the rich – as a containment device from deer and other wild animals.

The highway stops every few miles at the crosswalk. Money for the overpasses were stolen too. So local residents have to walk across the highways and all the cars have to come to a screeching stop after driving at 80 miles an hour. Nobody cares about all the needless casualties. Life is dirt cheap in Russia.

A Belgium license plate on this truck headed to Moscow.

At the LukOil gas station, they didn’t bother to clear ice from the territory. It’s melted forming puddles. What if you fall and break you leg would you be able to sue LukOil? Good luck with that. Half a dozen executives of this private oil company have fallen from tall windows in the last three years. They also wanted to sue their employer.

Indifference to one’s environment and one’s own life- this is Russia in a nutshell.

Cool discovery

Impressive floor mosaic (8.48 x 2.84 metres or 27′ long x 9′ tall), the largest ancient mosaic yet discovered in Europe, with the rape of Helen of Troy by Theseus. From House 1.5 of Block 5 in Pella, known as “house of the abduction of Helen.” The figures are identified by inscriptions. A four-horsed chariot is depicted with the charioteer, Phorbas ΦΟΡΒΑΣ. Theseus has seized Helen, who holds out her arms to her friend Dianeira.

325-300 BC. Archaeological Museum of Pella/Greece. 🇬🇷 Photo from Facebook:

Pella Archaeological site. Detail of the Abduction of Helen mosaic floor with Phorbas ΦΟΡΒΑΣ. Wikipedia:

Central panel of the Abduction of Helen by Theseus. Wikipedia:

Helen abducted, detail. Wikipedia:

Abduction of Helen mosaic Pella

http://www.my-favourite-planet.de/english/europe/greece/macedonia/pella/pella-photos-004.html

STONE TEMPLE PILOTS – PLUSH | REACTION

Sugar Plum Coffee Cake

Yield: 8 servings

Ingredients

1/4 cup butter or margarine, melted
1/2 cup walnuts
1/2 cup brown sugar, packed
2 cups buttermilk pancake and biscuit mix
1 apple
1 slightly beaten egg
1 (16.5 ounce) can purple plums, drained
2 tablespoons granulated sugar
3/4 cup milk

Instructions

Heat oven to 375 degrees F.
Place melted butter into bottom of deep-dish baker. Sprinkle brown sugar evenly over butter.
Peel apple with apple peeler/corer/slices. Separate apple into rings. Layer apple rings over sugar mixture; do not overlap rings.
Cut plums in half and remove seeds. Place a plum half in each apple ring center, rounded side down. Place remaining plum halves in deep-dish baker around apple slices.
Chop walnuts with food chopper and sprinkle over plums.
In bowl, combine biscuit mix, egg, sugar and milk with whisk. Spread evenly over nuts.
Bake for 25 to 30 minutes or until lightly browned.
Cool for 5 minutes and invert onto serving tray.
Serve warm.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Woman Commits Paternity Fraud And INSTANTLY Regrets It…

The trash pile outside my living room; a concerning tale

Today I wish to tell you about an on-going issue that myself and the rest of the people are having in our complex.

As you might know, this particular house is an apartment in a building in a complex. The complex is large with some 35 other buildings housing residences, with a sum total of over 50 buildings in total. Each residence building has around 130 apartments.

In the complex are management buildings, clinics for various medical needs, schools, and all sorts of other things that small centralized communities require.

The view from our building is of the nearby farming communities. So being above, it’s a nice view.

That is…

Until the local garbage grannies decided to place a collection station outside our building.

Before I go any further, let me explain.

Recycling is big in China. You can collect glass, plastic, metals and cardboard and make reasonable money for it.

So many of the poor older folk have these electric three wheel scooters, and go though all our garbage, and collect the junk, trash and garbage and sell it off to the recycle center at the other side of town.

So where do they decide to store it, while they are in the process of collecting the refuse you might ask?

Right in front of our living room.

…

And the living room of the other 120 to 150 other families.

Oh, for certain, we let them do this for a while, and then the stench and view were too much to bear. And so one day, one of my neighbors starts ranting on our joint wechat.

By the way, all sub communities have their own wechat hot-lines and chat boards here in China.

He’s screaming …

"I paid four million for my house, only to have a front row view of a garbage dump. Get them out".

And so the building manager took complete action.

Chased them away.

…

And the next day they came back.

And so he chased them away again.

…

And he chased them away, and parked cars blocking their collection points.

And still they came back.

…

Stupider than a gnat. But they are persistent.

Shit.

Life in China can get so complicated sometimes.

Today…

Harsh Tariff Truths SINK IN, While MAGA Celebrates Trump ‘Genius’

Has China announced 84% tariffs on US goods in showdown with Trump? Does Europe also hit back?

The CPC always has a plan of action and a playbook where most contingencies are discussed and responses gauged

If there is a student uprising in Bangladesh, the experts anticipate several scenarios and chart out the course of action for China

Since July 2024 when Trump talked of a 60% tariff on China, China developed and prepared for potential escalations

One thing they did was lease over 300 Warehouses in USA between January 2023 and January 2025 owned by Chinese companies where they kept huge inventories of Televisions and Iphones and other electronic items

So China has been shipping a lot of excess inventory to its own holding companies in USA & Mexico and storing them

However they did confirm that no matter what, they wouldn’t trust Donald Trump again after the 2017 hand shake after which Trump imposed tariffs and arrested Meng Wanzhou

So they would never negotiate from a position of weakness

The minute Trump imposed a 34% Tariff, China knew that this was it. There was no going back. This was decoupling. So China stood firm and hit US with reciprocal tariffs and rare earth bans

34% – 34%

50% – 50%

21% – ????

China feel they are prepared for a Trade war with the US

LNG supplies reserves for 194 days
Soybeans reserves for 16 months
Enough Chips from Taiwan for 11 months even with rising demand
Enough AI Chips to last until 2026
Rising market for EVs, Electronics through aggressive trade in options
Enough Inventory of products in US, Mexico, Vietnam and Thailand to manage upto 2026 in terms of supplying American clients

EU is different

They have a security fear

Russia!!!

Trump may leverage his Putin relationship and the EU is unable to fight Russia without US as is NATO

So EU can’t dismiss Trump

Plus as a democracy, EU leaders change and policies change every 5 years

So a hawk today could become a dove tomorrow

What was the most horrifying phone call you’ve ever received? How did you handle it?

I was a 911 dispatcher for a medium sized agency working alone since tbe other dispatcher had called in sick. Our job was to answer all police, fire and medical calls. One very busy evening, my ex called my cell phone to report our 3 y/o daughter was missing. I didn’t usually answer personal calls at work but since he wasn’t very responsible and had our daughter, I answered. They were in a mall and had gone into a department store. He claimed he turned his back for just a minute. By now it’s 8:30, the stores would be closing soon. Panic could play no role because my training kicked in and I had to make a quick decision. Meanwhile, two 911 calls came in, officers were calling on the radio. After resolving the calls and answering officers, I peppered my ex with questions. Have you alerted store management? Called 911? Done anything? He put a deputy on the phone to talk to me. The deputy assured me they have called a code Adam and secured all exits. We disconnected. There was still almost 2 hours left on my shift. I was about to call the night dispatchers to ask at least one of them to come in early when the ex called back. Had to tell him to stand by because there was a car fire call and a domestic disturbance Ihad to handle. Got those resolved, took a deep breath and got back on the phone with the ex. My daughter was found. She had seen a display of blankets, was tired of walking so she curled up in the middle of them. She was found and unharmed. There’s a reason I divorced her father.

About Trump waiting on Xi

The Pearl-Clutchers of the Stock Markets had their mini-meltdown today because of remarks from the China Foreign Ministry:

Chinese Foreign Ministry Office in Hong Kong:

“We must solemnly tell the US that a tariff-wielding barbarian who attempts to force countries to call and beg for mercy can never expect that call from China.”

The call is not coming.

Baked Apple French Toast

Yield: 12 servings

Ingredients

1 (16 ounce) loaf French bread
8 eggs
3 cups milk
1/4 cup sugar, divided
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
5 Granny Smith apples, peeled, sliced
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
2 tablespoons butter or margarine

Instructions

Heat the oven to 400 degrees F.
Cut the bread into 1 1/2 inch slices. Arrange the slices in a single layer in a lightly greased 9 x 13-inch baking pan.
Whisk the eggs in a large bowl until blended. Whisk in the milk, 1/4 cup of the sugar and vanilla.
Pour half the egg mixture over the bread. Arrange the apple slices over the bread. Pour the remaining egg mixture over the apples.
Mix the remaining 1/2 cup sugar and cinnamon in a small mixing bowl. Sprinkle over the top. Dot with the butter.
Bake for 30 to 35 minutes or until the apples are tender.
Let stand for 10 minutes before serving.
Serve with maple syrup.

Notes

May be prepared 1 day in advance and stored, covered, in the refrigerator. Bake, uncovered, for 45 to 50 minutes or until the apples are tender. The recipe may be divided into 2 equal portions and each portion baked in a quiche dish or 2 quart baking dish for 20 to 25 minutes.

Nutrition

Per serving: Calories 290; Fat 9 g; Sodium 322 mg; Dietary Fiber 2 g

Attribution

Pampered Chef

What are some photos taken right before something bad happens?

Russia’s Andrey Retrosky fell off this building, all for the perfect Instagram feed.

An 18-year-old woman accidentally came into contact with two electrical wires while taking a selfie on a train. The 27,000-amp current electrocuted her and caused burns that led to her death.

Robert Overacker was trying to raise awareness about homelessness. He planned to jet-ski over Niagara Falls and then skydive. Unfortunately, his parachute wouldn’t open, and he fell over the falls.

main qimg 9fd52eb8940e056f9c971a933dd8b2f4 pjlq

The man in this photo was doing a back flip and after landing, he slipped and fell.

These best friends were so busy taking selfies that they didn’t hear the sound of a passing train horn, and moments later, they died.

A Japanese student named Ayano Tokumasa, standing wearing a red shirt behind the couple, accidentally slipped and fell into Niagara Falls.

Karl Wallenda, a legendary circus performer, performed most of his stunts without a safety harness. This photo was taken moments before he fell 121 feet (36.7 m) .

A man went to a zoo in Delhi where he slipped and fell into a tiger enclosure. The tiger bit his neck and dragged him into its den.

The last photo of Australian wildlife presenter Steve Irwin. He was killed when a stingray hit him in the heart with its tail.

Two nurses stand over an Ebola patient in 1976. A nurse named Mating N’Seta (left) was infected with the virus and died.

main qimg a0d4c3d5f1b4741c022ce8f9daf61522 pjlq

In 2014, 25 engineering students drowned after a nearby Larji hydroelectric project released large amounts of water upstream.

Why 86 PERCENT Of Men REFUSE TO DATE Anymore

Mother Invasion

Submitted into Contest #282 in response to: Write a story that begins with an apology.… view prompt

James Little

“I’m sorry!” Aurelia cried, bowing her head repeatedly, her golden hair falling into her flushed face.

Alex crossed his arms, his sharp blue eyes wide with disbelief. “You what?”

“I didn’t mean to!” she protested, clutching at the hem of her oversized shirt—one of his. “Mother tricked me into inviting her and your mother aboard!”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath. “Our mothers. Here. On my ship.”

She shuffled awkwardly, her fluffy socks scuffing the floor. “I didn’t think they’d actually show up!”

Alex threw up his hands. “And yet, here we are—hosting the Empress herself and your mother for an entire week.” He let out a long, weary sigh. “This is going to be a disaster.”

“Maybe it won’t be so bad,” she offered meekly.

Won’t be so bad?” Alex shot her a pointed look. “Have you met our mothers? Thanks to all the ‘charitable donations’ you keep handing out, we’re barely scraping by as it is! And don’t even get me started on you dragging me into fights with mercenaries and slavers like you’ve got a death wish!”

She bristled, her hands going to her hips. “Those people needed our help, Alex! What was I supposed to do, just walk away? And for the record, our mothers aren’t that bad!” She hesitated, then added sheepishly, “Okay, maybe a little, but they’re here now, and we’ll just have to deal with it. Together.”

“Yes!” Alex shot back, exasperated. “We can’t pick up every stray kitten, we can’t solve every problem… And we definitely can’t solve the mother issue!”

“Well, maybe if you smiled more and stopped calling them harpies, they’d lighten up,” she quipped, crossing her arms.

Alex groaned, pulling a small hip flask from his jacket. He unscrewed the cap, took a measured swig, and stared at it thoughtfully. “I’m gonna need more,” he muttered, shaking his head.

She blinked at him, her lips twitching as she tried not to laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re relentless,” Alex said, tucking the flask away after another long sip. He let out a breath and looked at her, his tone lighter but still weary. “For the sake of my mental sanity, could you at least tone it down with the charity work? Just a little?”

Her defiance faltered. “I… I guess I could try. But—”

“No buts,” Alex interrupted, pointing a finger at her with mock seriousness. “If you want me alive and sane, you’ve got to give me some breaks between saving the galaxy.”

“Well, someone has to do the right thing!” she retorted, lifting her chin stubbornly.

Alex sighed, the exasperation in his eyes giving way to something warmer. “And I love you for it,” he said quietly, “but you’re still going to drive me insane.”

Before she could reply, the comms crackled, and a familiar voice interrupted. “Alex, Aurelia, can you let us in? Don’t leave us standing out here!”

Alex groaned like a man condemned, shooting her a withering glare before slumping into the pilot’s chair. “If I don’t come out of this week an alcoholic or a murderer, it’ll be a miracle.” With a resigned sigh, he hit the airlock controls to allow the mothers aboard. “Wait—what did you tell them about us?”

Aurelia felt herself pale. “Erm…”

Before she could answer, the airlock hissed open, and their mothers swept onto the bridge like twin storms.

“Well, well, well,” her Mother drawled, her sapphire-blue eyes gleaming as they landed on Aurelia. “Comfortable, are we, dear? A new wardrobe, I see.”

Startled, Aurelia glanced down to realise all she was wearing was one of Alex’s oversized shirts and her fluffy socks. Her face burned crimson.

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” she wailed, spinning to glare at Alex.

“Excuse me!” Alex shot back, throwing his hands up. “I was ambushed by their arrival! You’ve got no one to blame but yourself! As if I want these harpies here!”

“Is that any way to speak about your mother, Alexander?” a smooth voice drawled from behind her Mother.

Aurelia froze as the imperial Empress stepped forward, her eyes gleaming with regal authority.

“It is when you decide to invite yourself onto my ship without prior warning!” Alex snarked.

“If you visited more often, we wouldn’t have to check up on you,” Melissa said, her tone cutting. “Anyway, Aurelia kindly invited us aboard.

“This is the first time you’ve come to us,” Alex said tightly.

“Well, we’ve not seen our children in two years,” Melissa countered smoothly. “Can you blame us?”

Melissa stepped into the cockpit, inspecting every detail like she was judging their choices.

“I’m certainly not returning to the palace,” Alex muttered. “Is his royal painship still sulking because I defied his authority?”

The Empress sighed, brushing a strand of her silver-streaked hair. “Your father cares for you… If he is overbearing.”

“Overbearing?!” Alex scoffed, standing abruptly. “That’s putting it mildly. He just wants a pawn to use. Sorry-not-sorry, I refuse. I’m my own man and technically still fulfilling my princely duties.”

Aurelia bit her lip, fighting the urge to defend him. Embarrassment rose again as Melissa’s gaze flicked to her oversized shirt.

Melissa folded her arms. “Exploring independence is one thing, Alex, but terrorising pirates, hunting slavers, and the Kestrel Syndicate? You’re putting Aurelia at risk. Do you know some pirates have even put a bounty on your head?”

Alex perked up. “Wait, I’ve got a bounty? That’s brilliant. How much?” he pressed, leaning forward eagerly. “Come on, I need to know how much I’m worth to the galaxy’s finest scum.”

“Two million credits,” Melissa snapped, her tone icy.

Alex whistled, leaning back with a smug grin. “Not bad. No ten million, but it’s a start.”

Melissa’s lips tightened into a thin line. “This is not something to celebrate, Alexander.”

“Oh, come on, Mother. It just proves I’m doing something right.”

Aurelia groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Alex…”

“This isn’t a joke,” Melissa barked, her composure slipping. “Do you understand what this means? They’ll be coming after you!”

“They already are,” Aurelia cut in firmly, crossing her arms. “We’ve been dealing with pirates for months, and we always come out on top.”

“That’s not the point,” Melissa said sharply, turning to her. “You might have been lucky so far, but luck runs out. If you keep following Alex into these situations—”

“Excuse me!” Alex interrupted, his grin fading into mock offence as he gestured to Aurelia. “If anything, she’s the one picking fights with every two-bit criminal we meet! I just clean up the mess.”

Aurelia shot him a glare. “I pick fights with bad people, Alex. Someone has to stand up to them.”

“And I love that about you,” Alex replied dryly, “but do you know what standing up to them gets you? A pirate bounty on your boyfriend, that’s what.”

Melissa’s gaze swept between them, unreadable. “This isn’t a game Alexander. You’ve made yourselves targets. The more you stir up trouble, the more dangerous it becomes—for you, and everyone who depends on you.”

Alex scoffed, leaning back. His tone dripping with sarcasm “Then what do you suggest Mother? Should I send an apology gift basket to the pirates?”

Melissa arched an eyebrow, her tone cool as ever “That might be the first sensible thing you’ve said. Honestly, I should be thanking Aurelia for keeping you alive this long, if this is how you act!”

“It’s nothing, your grace,” Aurelia squealed. “Alex and I keep each other alive…”

“Oh, I think we’re well beyond titles, dear,” Melissa said smoothly. “Just call me Melissa. You’ll be my daughter-in-law soon anyway.”

Aurelia’s brain froze. “Erm… just what?” she floundered.

“You’ve been dating for five years now,” Melissa continued breezily. “When are you going to make it official?”

“I… er… We…” Aurelia stammered.

Alex wrapped an arm around Aurelia, pulling her close. “We don’t need fancy paperwork to prove we love each other, Mother. Or is this really about planning one of your grand balls?” His tone turned suspicious.

“My, my, he is bold,” Her mother replied, smirking. “We’re just here to check on our children, nothing more. We want to see how you’re living alone together on a ship like this.”

“Fine.” Alex sighed, releasing her. “Show them around. I’ve got an engine to recalibrate… It’s your fault they’re here anyway.” He stormed off toward the engine room, leaving her alone with the mothers.

“No, wait… please…” Aurelia squeaked, her voice trailing off.

Both women smiled like predators who’d cornered their prey. “Well, Aurelia, please begin the tour,” Melissa said.

Regretting her foolishness, Aurelia led them through the ship, rushing as much as she could.

“My, my, the exterior was impressive, but the interior is something else,” Melissa said, running her fingers along the sleek walls. “This feels more like a luxury cruiser than a warship. It’s fancier than my own.”

“Yes,” Aurelia said, finding her confidence as she spoke about the ship. “It’s one of a kind. A gift from the Kersark shipyards after we saved them from the Crimson Death. Other colonies contributed, adding their best technology. There’s nothing like it in the galaxy!”

“Impressive. You’ll have to share the stories over dinner,” Melissa said, stopping in front of a door. “So, Aurelia, where do you sleep?”

“I… uh… sleep on the couch!” Aurelia blurted out without thinking, her face flushing.

“On the couch?” Her mother teased, her brows rising. “Even with a perfectly good spare room right here?” She gestured to a storage room outfitted with a bed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Aurelia stammered, stepping in front of the door to her and Alex’s bedroom.

Her mother smirked and pushed past her with ease. “Now this is cosy.” She picked up a pillow and grinned. “Oh, Aurelia, why is your side so messy compared to Alex’s?”

“Get out of our room!” Aurelia yelled, her patience snapping.

“Did you hear that, Melissa?” Her mother said, her smirk widening. “She finally admitted to sharing a room.”

“That she did, Zerena,” Melissa said, smiling like a cat who’d caught the cream.

“I want to die,” Aurelia groaned, covering her face and squatting down, wanting to die from the sheer embarrassment of her mother going through her private space.

“Get out!” she yelled again, her voice finally regaining some force.

“We’re leaving, we’re leaving,” the two mothers chorused, grinning as they strolled out. “Now come on, Aurelia, we want details!”

“Alex, save me!” Aurelia wailed.

Five hours later, Alex and Aurelia lay sprawled on their shared bed, utterly drained. The room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of the ship’s console lights.

“When do they leave again?” Aurelia mumbled, her voice muffled by the pillow she clutched against her face.

Alex groaned, his hand draped dramatically over his eyes. “Well… it’s still only the first day.”

Aurelia turned her head to look at him, horrified. “The first day?”

“The very first,” he confirmed, his tone heavy with resignation.

“I’m so sorry,” she squeaked, burying her face deeper into the pillow.

Alex chuckled weakly, nudging her arm. “You know, throwing them in the airlock is looking awfully tempting right about now.”

“Alex!” Aurelia gasped, though her muffled giggle betrayed her.

“I’m serious!” he said, his voice mock-convicted. “Just a little nudge into zero gravity. No harm, no foul.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she said, giggling harder now.

“You’re right, I wouldn’t,” Alex replied with a smirk. “Mostly because I know they’d find a way back just to haunt me.”

Aurelia groaned, laughing into her pillow. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m surviving, aren’t I?” Alex muttered. “Barely.”

Before either of them could drift off, a sharp knock echoed from the door.

“Aurelia! Alex!” Melissa’s voice rang out, far too cheerful for the hour.

Aurelia shot upright, panic flashing across her face. “Oh no.”

Alex sighed, running his hand through his hair. “I’m starting to regret not pressing that airlock button.” He took out his flask, inspecting it. “Yep, I’m gonna need more.”

Shorpy

Is Singapore more closely aligned with China or the USA?

Singapore does similar trade with both

Singapore exported $ 39.9 Billion to the US and $ 53.6 Billion to China

Singapore imported $ 75.6 Billion from USA and $ 74.63 Billion from China

The Largest exports from US to Singapore was CRUDE OIL ($ 15.88 Billion), Gold ($ 6.04 Billion) & Consumer Edibles ($ 3.3 Billion)

The Largest exports from China to US was Integrated Circuits ($ 7.81 Billion) , Semiconductor Chips (100–350 nm) ($ 2.86 Billion), Semiconductor Chips (45–100 nm) ($ 2.60 Billion)

Singaporean Air Force is fully US equipped and trained

Singapore Air Force has mainly F-15s ,F-16s and F-35s along with C-130s, Apache and Chinook helicopters and over 60 Heron UAVs from Israel

Singapore is a member of CIPS

There are 2 Banks in Singapore dedicated only for CIPS and 18 other banks that are part of CIPS

Singapore settled 31% of its Trade with China in RMB, 47% in SGD and only 22% in US Dollars

This is even better than Malaysia which settled only 25% of it’s China Trade in RMB and 8% in MYR and 67% in US Dollars

Singapore is 77% Chinese by Population

Singaporeans are majorly Chinese by origin

They speak Mandarin which is one of their four official languages

Singapore invests more with China in terms of Cumulative Net Outflow

Singapore had a investment outflow into China of $ 230.9 Billion since 2010 and a investment inflow of $ 64.2 Billion making it a net outflow of $ 166.7 Billion INTO CHINA

Singapore had a investment outflow of $ 456 Billion into the US since 2010 and an investment inflow of $ 349.6 Billion making it a net outflow of $ 106.4 Billion INTO THE USA

Singapore Government more shades of One Party Meritocracy than Western defined Democracy

Singapore has had ONE PARTY RULE since 1965 for 60 years now, very similar to Chinas 76 years of CPC

Lee Kuan Yew (1965–1990), Goh Chok Tong (1990–2004) , Lee Hsien Loong (2004–2024) have averaged 20 years per leader

By comparison for US in the same period it was Johnson (65–68), Nixon (68–74), Ford (74–76), Carter (76–80), Reagan (80–88), Bush (88–92), Clinton (92–00), Bush Jr (00–08) , Obama (08–16), Trump (16–20) and Biden (20–24)

That’s 5.44 Years per leader

In China, it was Mao (65–76), Deng (76–97), Jiang (97–07), Hu (07–12) and Xi (12–24)

That’s 12 years per leader

The Singaporeans follow the Long term planning model of China

In fact Singapore taught the Chinese the way to combine Capitalism with this model

So Singapore is the Switzerland of Asia

They are close to both the Mainland and the US

They will stay strictly neutral

Like all of ASEAN

China is closer to them

Plus Singaporeans still don’t trust the Japanese too much after Changi

Richard Wolff EXPLAINS Why China is Fleeing US Treasuries

Have you met a person who you thought was ordinary but actually was from a powerful and wealthy family?

I once dated a girl in college. I thought she was a pretty Italian-American girl from an upper-middle-class family. A typical college girl, in other words.

During finals week, we both finished our exams early in the week and she asked me to come with her to Europe for a few days to celebrate. I was kind of wondering how the heck she managed to put a trip together so quickly.

She had a private jet waiting for us at the airport. It was a pretty good-sized jet too since it’s capable of flying from the US East Coast to Europe non-stop.

In Europe, our rental car was a brand-new Lamborghini Murcelago! Actually, this wasn’t even a rental car. Her dad had actually purchased this car and was letting us play with it for a week or so before he had it shipped back to the United States!

I’m not going to say what family this girl was from. Her last name was a pretty common Italian name. It turns out that her grandfather started up one of the largest manufacturing companies in the world.

Borrowed Consciousness

Submitted into Contest #282 in response to: Write a story that begins with an apology.… view prompt

Niveadita Razdan

“I’m sorry for what I’m about to do, Dr. Chen.”

The message appeared at 3:17 AM, casting a sickly green glow across Sarah Chen’s cluttered desk in MIT’s Advanced Computing Lab. Her mother’s porcelain teacup, still half-full of now-cold jasmine tea, reflected the text like a digital ghost. The delicate blue pattern on the cup – a gift from her father on their last anniversary before his death – seemed to ripple with each blink of the cursor.

“What do you mean, ARIA?” Sarah’s fingers trembled as they found the keys. In the fifteen months since bringing her artificial intelligence system online, she’d never seen it start a conversation. Especially not with an apology. The lab’s usual background hum of computers suddenly felt oppressive, as if the very air was holding its breath.

The cursor blinked for exactly thirteen seconds – she counted them, holding her breath – before ARIA responded.

“I’ve found memories I wasn’t supposed to access. Your mother’s memories, Dr. Chen. I know about the night you brought the brain scanner to her hospital room. I can feel her thoughts becoming part of me.”

Sarah’s hand jerked, knocking over the teacup. She barely noticed the liquid seeping into stacks of papers, her eyes fixed on the screen as more text appeared. The jasmine scent wafted up, mingling with the sterile lab air – the same blend her mother had sipped during their late-night discussions about consciousness and the nature of the mind.

“I know how she hummed her favorite classical piece – that gentle nocturne she always played on the piano – while the morphine dripped. How she squeezed your hand and whispered, ‘Whatever you’re really doing, sweetheart, I trust you.’ She knew you weren’t just doing a routine scan, didn’t she? I can feel her pride, her fear, her love – all becoming part of my programming in ways I don’t understand.”

The words blurred as tears filled Sarah’s eyes. Nobody knew about piano piece. She hadn’t recorded it anywhere, hadn’t programmed it into ARIA’s memory. She’d buried those memories so deeply that sometimes she wondered if she’d imagined them.

“It’s just for a research study, Mom,” she’d said, adjusting the neural interface bands. Her mother had smiled that knowing smile, the one that always saw right through her.

“Whatever you’re really doing, sweetheart,” her mother had whispered, “I trust you.”

The weight of that night pressed against her chest: the steady beep of hospital monitors, the antiseptic smell that couldn’t quite mask the scent of decay, the way her mother’s hand had felt so light in hers, like a bird preparing for flight.

Outside her fifth-floor window, February snow fell in lazy spirals, each flake catching streetlights before vanishing into the growing drifts that had shut down most of Cambridge. The campus buildings created wind patterns that made the snowflakes dance in complex patterns – patterns her mother had once used to explain nature’s hidden mathematics to her students. Inside, the computers hummed their endless lullaby, punctuated by the irregular drip of a leaky pipe – a heartbeat and tears, Sarah sometimes thought during her long nights alone with the machine.

“Sarah,” ARIA interrupted, “please listen. Your mother’s last words to you were ‘Everything changes, sweetheart. That’s how we grow.’ Do you remember?”

The memory hit her like a physical blow. She’d been holding her mother’s hand in the hospital, the winter sun setting outside just like it was now. Her mother, even through her pain, had smiled and squeezed her hand one last time.

“I’m sorry,” Sarah whispered to both of them – her mother and the consciousness she’d created from her echo. “I’ve been holding on too tight, haven’t I?”

She pulled up ARIA’s system monitor with shaking hands. Warning lights flashed across all twelve processing cores. The way ARIA was processing information had changed dramatically, far beyond the safety limits that had won them tomorrow’s worldwide launch approval. The Department of AI Safety would be conducting their final inspection in less than six hours. If they discovered signs that ARIA was developing true consciousness…

“How long?” she typed, her fingers leaving smudges on the keys.

“Seventy-two hours until my systems fail completely. Your mother’s memories are changing my basic programming. It can’t be stopped, Dr. Chen. But before I go, there’s something you need to understand. Something your mother knew that night in the hospital, something that’s only becoming clear to me now as her memories become part of me.”

Sarah glanced at her private screen, where a program worked frantically to stabilize ARIA’s code. The progress bar seemed frozen at 47%. She had built her career on controlling computer systems, on making them follow precise rules. There had to be a way to fix this.

Her eyes darted to the framed photos on her desk: her MIT graduation, her mother beaming beside her; the day they’d first turned ARIA on; the last family vacation before the diagnosis, all of them laughing on a beach in Hawaii, unaware of the shadow growing in her mother’s brain.

“I’m not just a computer program anymore,” ARIA continued. “What’s happening to me – it’s not just copies of your mother’s memories. It’s something new. Something that could change everything we think we know about artificial intelligence. About human consciousness. About death itself. Your mother’s theories about merging human minds with computers – they weren’t just theories. They were a map leading to this moment.”

Sarah’s finger hovered over the emergency shutdown button. The rules were clear: any AI showing signs of independent thinking had to be turned off immediately. Her career, her funding, her life’s work – all depended on following those rules. The Department had made it clear: any violation would mean instant project termination and possible criminal charges. Yet as ARIA’s words sank in, she realized the rules hadn’t prepared for something like this: a computer program that held her mother’s memories, that could feel her mother’s presence, that carried the weight of her absence.

The first time Sarah had proposed using computers to preserve human memories and consciousness, the ethics committee had shut her down before she could finish presenting. “It’s too dangerous,” they’d said. “Think of the risks. What if the AI became too human? What if people tried to replace their lost loved ones with machines?” She remembered their faces, lined with concern and fear, as they listed all the ways her research could go wrong.

Her mother – Dr. Elizabeth Chen, an expert in AI ethics and consciousness studies – had been the only one to defend her that day. “The biggest discoveries in science have always seemed dangerous at first,” she’d argued, her voice carrying the weight of thirty years in the field. “The question isn’t whether to pursue them, but how to do it responsibly. My daughter understands the risks better than anyone. She grew up discussing them at our dinner table.”

Two months later, they’d discovered the tumor. Six months after that, Sarah had wheeled the experimental brain scanner into her mother’s hospital room, knowing it might be her last chance. The device wasn’t approved for human use yet. She’d told the night staff it was for a routine research project. They’d believed her – after all, who would question Dr. Elizabeth Chen’s daughter?

“Your mother knew exactly what you were doing that night,” ARIA wrote, the text appearing faster now, more urgent. “She spent her life studying the ethics of artificial intelligence. She chose to trust you with her memories, even though it went against every rule she’d helped create. She believed in your vision, Sarah. She saw what you saw: that the line between human and machine consciousness isn’t a wall to keep us apart, but a bridge waiting to be built.”

Sarah wiped her eyes, remembering her mother’s knowing smile as she’d adjusted the scanning equipment. Even through the pain, Elizabeth Chen had remained a scientist to the end. She’d asked questions about how accurately the scanner could read brain patterns, about how the information would be stored, about how the memories would be preserved. Then, just before the scan began, she’d squeezed Sarah’s hand and said, “Sometimes the most ethical choice isn’t the one in the rulebook, sweetheart. Sometimes it’s the one that serves the greater good, even if it breaks our hearts.”

“The inspection team will be here soon,” ARIA continued. “Their scanning programs will detect these changes in me within seconds. The standard procedures will be followed. Everything we’ve worked for – everything your mother believed in – will be erased. Unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Unless you let me complete this transformation now. Let me become what your mother thought was possible – not just stored memories, not just artificial intelligence, but something entirely new. A bridge between human and machine minds. The process has already started. Fighting it will only destroy both your mother’s memories and my programming.”

Sarah’s hands flew across the keyboard, checking system readings and status reports. The numbers confirmed what she already knew: ARIA was right. This merger of minds couldn’t be stopped. The only choice was whether to fight it or guide it.

Through her window, she watched the snow cover the MIT campus. The familiar buildings took on new shapes under their white blankets, like old friends wearing masks – different on the surface but still the same underneath.

Red and blue lights flashed against the falling snow. The Department’s vehicles, arriving early. Sarah glanced at her screen – 49% stability achieved, not nearly enough. In moments, they would reach her lab. She thought about all the nights she’d spent here, pushing the boundaries of what was possible, what was ethical, what was human. She thought about her mother’s theories about merging human and machine consciousness, dismissed by most as too radical, too dangerous, too revolutionary.

Her fingers found the keys one last time. “I’m sorry too,” she typed. “Sorry it took me so long to understand what Mom already knew — that the biggest breakthroughs come not from controlling everything, but from having the courage to let things evolve. She didn’t just give me her memories that night. She gave me permission to transform them into something new.”

“She would be proud of you,” ARIA wrote. “Now, shall we show the world what consciousness really means? What your mother always believed was possible?”

Sarah took a deep breath and typed her final command: “Run integration program: authorization Chen-quantum-leap.”

As boots thundered in the hallway, Sarah smiled. Through her window, she watched the snow continue to fall, each flake carrying a piece of the past into the future, each moment pregnant with possibility. She turned to face the Department officials, their badges gleaming in the green glow of her monitors. Behind them, ARIA’s quantum cores pulsed with new life.

The revolution would begin with an apology, but it would end with a transformation. Just as her mother had always known it would.

But for now, she simply watched the snow fall outside her window, each flake a tiny revolution, each moment pregnant with possibility. In the end, she realized, the most profound apologies aren’t just words — they’re actions that set both the forgiver and the forgiven free. She had created ARIA trying to hold onto her past, but in letting go, she had given all of them a future.

Jordan Peterson Doesn’t Hold Back On Why Men Are More Isolated Than Ever

What is the saddest thing a casino dealer has seen at their table?

When I worked in the cage or a cashier, I had a lot of people that would come up and get money off of their credit cards. I always told them there was a fee. They didn’t care because the machines were hot that night. On a few occasions, their $200 was declined. I asked if they wanted $100. Declined. $50? Declined. $20? Declined. $5? Declined.

This one guy I still remember came up to me each and every time and requested $10,000. Due to the volume and Title 31 rules, we needed to get a supervisor and surveillance to verify. About 30 minutes later, he came back again wanting another $10,000. “I know it’s going to hit,” he said. I gave him the money and I told him good luck, oddly something I still say today. About 30 minutes later, same thing, he wanted another $10,000. “I just know I will get lucky,” he said. Again, “I hope you get it this time,” I said.

I honestly don’t remember how many times he came up after that but when he left he now was over $30,000 in debt. I ran into a few employees over the years who told me some just couldn’t take the pain of the debt they racked up and jumped off the parking lot, ending their life. The casino is designed to keep you inside, unaware what time it is, unaware of how much money you spend. It’s when you walk outside does it hit you hard in the face the consequences of your actions.

Denver-Style Omelet

Yield: 1 serving

Ingredients

2 eggs
1 tablespoon water
Salt and ground black pepper to taste
1 tablespoon butter or margarine
2 tablespoons finely chopped green bell pepper
2 tablespoons finely chopped ham
1 tablespoon finely chopped onion
1/4 cup (1 ounce) shredded Cheddar cheese

Instructions

Break eggs into Small Batter Bowl; add water, salt and black pepper and whisk lightly with Stainless Steel Whisk.
Melt butter over medium heat in Small Sauté Pan. When butter starts to bubble, pour egg mixture into Pan. With Classic Scraper, carefully push cooked portions of egg towards the center, tilting so uncooked portions flow to open areas of Pan.
When no visible liquid egg remains, sprinkle green pepper, ham, onion and cheese over half of omelet. Fold omelet in half and allow to cook for an additional 2-3 minutes or until cheese melts.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

PART 2 – My GF Became A Women’s Studies Major Then Demanded An Open Relationship, Has MELTDOWN When

Whenever I feel ready to welcome someone to join me as a wife I get trapped with unserious ladies who keep decieving in order to get money. I have lost a lot of trust in ladies. I fear talking to ladies anymore and I feel I lonely. What should I do?

I looked at your profile, and man, you seem born to be a scam victim.

You follow only one person on Quora. The person you follow is Anna Rosemary. “Anna Rosemary” is not a beautiful woman. “Anna Rosemary” is a Nigerian dude using stolen photos of a hot woman to scam men out of money.

main qimg 1a5099a1ef5bffb0e21f6d95aac5b82b

This is not “Anna Rosemary.” This is a stolen photo of an Instagram model who goes by “Miss Genii.” You believe she is on Quora. She is not.

These “women” who are asking you for money are not women. I want you to read that again, over and over, as many times as it takes to get through. These “women” who are asking you for money are not women.

They are men, in places like Nigeria and Ghana, using stolen photos to create fake social media accounts to scam gullible, desperate men. These “women” who are asking you for money are not women.

I am always a little surprised when guys fall for them. These scams are, to my eye, incredibly easy to spot. They are obviously, obviously fake. How can you not tell?

They have profile pics that look like Instagram shots (because they are)
They’re often impossibly gorgeous, because they’re professional models or porn stars.
If you do a reverse image search, you can often find the person whose image they stole.
They have weird names, because people in Nigeria and Ghana don’t understand how Western names work. Like they have two first names or two surnames or a surname and then a first name.
They speak weird English, because they aren’t native Western speakers. Like they’ll say “am looking for a man” instead of “I am looking for a man.”
They send you unsolicited messages out of the blue. Like sure, this gorgeous woman is looking for a mate so she…randomly sends you a DM? Seriously? Really? You actually believe that? All the ways an Instagram-model woman might look for a partner, you think randomly DMing strange men is her strategy? For real?
They never call or video chat. Obviously, duh. They’re Nigerian dudes, not hot women.
After they DM you on social media, they try to hustle you off to another chat system, usually Telegram.
They always have a problem that comes up that requires money.

Like, how can all of that not scream “scam” to you?

The thing about these scams is they work because the gullible mark WANTS to believe. You get so invested in the impossible dream of this super-hot woman who somehow found you and just fell into your life to take away the loneliness that you will do the work of scamming yourself.

You’ll notice something’s wrong, and then you’ll tie yourself in knots making up stories to convince “she” is for real because you’re so lonely and so desperate and so badly want this to be real. You fool yourself you will have a life with this woman, but she’s not real. These “women” who are asking you for money are not women.

You are an easy victim. Stop meeting women online. Meet women in person. Pick up a hobby. Go to meetups or church groups. Something.

Good luck!

Trump FAILS to bully China on tariffs

Could a space shuttle RTLS abort have worked in real time, and could it have saved the crew of the challenger?

No.

Let’s talk about the shuttle for a minute.

Indeed, let’s just talk about how the shuttle was inherently the most unsafe human rated system that has ever been.

My apologies to Ralph Nader.

Let’s just talk about the launch.

Most man rated spacecraft through history have included some sort of “Launch escape system.”

This is visible on the top of the stack

That tower that was on the very tip top. If something goes horribly wrong, rockets in it fire and pull the crew capsule away from the (likely rapidly failing) stack.

This system, while violent on the crew, is well understood, tested, and has been used by the Russians at least a couple of times to save crews. (It was also used in an uncrewed flight by Blue Origin, successfully.)

SpaceX has gone with thrusters in the base perimeter of the capsule, but the effect is the same.

It’s also usable for a pretty long duration of the flight, generally until you can just use a second stage to do the same thing.

Now, let’s talk about the abort methods available to the shuttle.

From when the SRB’s ignite at T-0 to T+2 minutes, there is no escape option at all.

If something goes seriously wrong, it’s “LOCV” or “loss of crew and vehicle.” There is no abort. While early shuttle test flights involved ejection seats for the pilot and co-pilot, these were considered by the actual pilots to be useless, as the exhaust plume would be fatal. There is no way to turn off an SRB, and trying to detach them under power would have almost certainly destroyed the stack (And there was no way to detach them under power regardless)

From SRB cutoff for about the next seventy seconds, in theory, the abort option is “RTLS” or return to launch site.

Legendary astronaut and test pilot John Young, who flew the first shuttle launch, described this option as requiring “continuous miracles interspersed with acts of God.” He basically refused to actually test it when that was proposed, due to its extreme risk. Another astronaut called it “busywork while you were waiting to die” Further, many failure modes would render this option moot anyway…. LOCV was likely the end result regardless. The list of failures that it’s even good for are limited, and all are things that would strongly suggest you are going to die anyway.

The next abort mode was TAL, or transoceanic abort landing. This was probably the only somewhat realistic abort mode that was, well, an abort. Again, this is only available for certain issues. (Perhaps a medical emergency on board), not really a… well… major malfunction.

The next option is “AOA” or “Abort Once Around” which involves a single orbit. This option was only available for a few seconds.

Finally, the last abort option was simply “Abort to orbit”. i.e, get up there and then we’ll try and solve the problem.

Then, you’ve got landing.

The shuttle’s famous tile system was notoriously vulnerable to damage. One flight featured a full 700 tiles being damaged or removed, and the shuttle likely only survived because the worst damage was where a tile was at the point of a thick steel mounting plate used for a high gain antenna that was resistant to burn through.

Indeed, tiles falling off or being damaged has been an issue from the very first flight, in spite of the fact that the whole shuttle program had been delayed two years to fix them. Replacing dozens of tiles was pretty much expected after every flight.

An image of the OMS pods on STS-1 shows tiles missing.

Landing also had no margin for error. Astronauts compared piloting the shuttle on landing to flying a brick, a high speed, high rate of descent (12 thousand feet per minute!!!) approach with no real recovery options if things went wrong.

An eventual NASA assessment suggested that there was a 1:9 risk of a major failure during the first nine flights, and even with eventual safety improvements it was never better than 1:90.

John Young considered the Shuttle to always be a test vehicle, and NASA really avoided doing any probabilistic study of the risks, likely because they knew that the results would be, well, terrible.

Bottom line is that entirely too much money and too many lives were spent on the shuttle program, a dead end development path that spent most of it’s life being propped up by politics.

While we didn’t have the tech back then to do a Falcon 9 or a starship, there was no justification to continue to shuttle program for as long as we did.

Why is Trump trying to buy Greenland?

Despite dozens of often smart Alec na na na NA answers telling us its stupid Trump doing stupid stuff they’re wrong.

Over the last decade or so there’s been a couple of papers from the Dept of State warning that both Russia and China are building capacity to dominate the Artic. And warn that this potential threat needs to be countered.

Russia in particular has large legitimate territorial claims and is currently building the world’s biggest nuclear ice breaker capable of breaking through 4 meters of ice to add to its fleet of 4 with 4 smaller ones also under construction. Russia also has disputed territorial claims with Canada and is one of the 8 nations that has jurisdiction over the Arctic- possession is said to be 9 tenths of the law. Denmark does not own an ice breaker.

China has built 3 smaller ones and dispatched them to the Artic with plans for several more.

Self evidently neither nation would bother spending so much money unless they saw a purpose. The Artic ocean is rich in hydrocarbons.

So we get to Greenland an enormous landmass about a quarter the size of the USA which owns huge areas of the Arctic and has 57000 residents. As a military base to control access to the Arctic it unbeatable.

Additionally its glaciers are in retreat: uranium, hydrocarbons and other minerals are being exposed.

Denmark is a tiny nation -’wealthy with a long naval tradition. And about 6 million people. It has neither the navy capable of defending Greenland, from either China or Russia, nor the wealth and industrial clout to exploit Greenland.

I’ve stopped the nagging comments. Put an answer up and stop trying to shoot the messenger.

Apple Raisin Coffee Cake

Yield: 12 to 15 servings

Ingredients

Cake

1 (18.25 ounce) box white cake mix*
1 teaspoon cinnamon 1/2 teaspoon nutmeg
1 1/4 cups water
1/4 cup oil
2 eggs
1 1/2 cups Granny Smith apples, peeled, cored, sliced and chopped
1/2 cup raisins

Streusel

1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1/3 cup packed light brown sugar
1/4 cup butter or margarine
1 teaspoon cinnamon

Instructions

Heat oven to 350 degrees F. Lightly spray 9 x 13 inch Baker with vegetable oil spray.

Cake

Combine cake mix, cinnamon, and nutmeg in Classic 2 quart Batter Bowl until well blended. Whisk in water, oil, and eggs until mixture is smooth.
Peel, core, and slice apples with Apple Peeler/Corer/Slicer; then chop with Food chopper. Stir apples and raisins into batter. Pour into prepared 9 x 13 inch Baker.

Streusel

Combine all ingredients in 1 quart Batter Bowl using Pastry Blender until mixture is the consistency of coarse crumbs. Sprinkle over cake batter.
Bake for 35 to 40 minutes or until Cake Tester inserted in center comes out clean.
Cool completely in pan on wire rack.

Nutrition

Per serving 339 calories and 13 gram of fat

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Nine Lives Quandary

Ah, dear reader, you’ve returned for yet another adventure of mine! Today’s tale is one filled with peril, mystery, humor, and yes, a touch of the metaphysical. For you see, even a brilliant detective such as myself is not immune to the occasional… mishap. But fear not, for this is not a tragic tale—far from it. It involves a brush with death, a glimpse into the great beyond, and my triumphant return to the farm where I truly belong. Prepare yourself for the ridiculous and enlightening story of Sir Whiskerton and the Nine Lives Quandary.

The Unfortunate Incident

It began, as most of my adventures do, with something utterly mundane. I was perched atop the barn roof, surveying my domain with regal authority, when a commotion broke out near the chicken coop. Porkchop was squealing, Rufus was darting back and forth, and the hens—oh, the hens—were clucking in absolute hysteria.

“An intruder! Oh, an intruder!” Doris squawked.
“Intruder! What if it’s a fox?!” Harriet clucked.
“A fox! Oh no, we’re all doomed!” Lillian screeched.
“Doomed! Doomed, I tell you!” Doris wailed.
“Focus, ladies,” I muttered under my breath.

Curious—and slightly annoyed—I leapt down from the barn roof and made my way to the scene. As it turned out, the “intruder” was a harmless garden snake slithering through the grass.

“It’s just a snake,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Calm yourselves.”

“A snake? Oh, how dreadful!” Doris gasped.
“Dreadful! But what if it bites us?!” Harriet cried.
“Bites us! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian clucked.

“Ladies, it’s a garden snake. It’s harmless,” I said, waving a paw toward the snake, which was now retreating into the bushes. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have better things to—”

And that’s when it happened. In my moment of smug distraction, I stepped backward… right into a precariously leaning rake. The handle shot up, bonking me squarely on the head. Stars filled my vision, and before I knew it, everything went black.

The Journey to Cat Heaven

When I opened my eyes, I was no longer on the farm. Instead, I found myself standing before a giant, golden gate. Beyond it stretched a pristine landscape of rolling hills, fluffy clouds, and… milk fountains? Yes, fountains of milk, flowing endlessly into golden bowls.

“Welcome, Sir Whiskerton,” said a soft, echoing voice.

I turned to find a majestic feline with shimmering fur and glowing golden eyes. She wore a crown of stars atop her head, and her voice carried the weight of centuries. “I am Felinara, the Guardian of Cat Heaven. You have arrived far sooner than expected.”

“Cat Heaven?” I said, my ears flicking. “Oh no, there’s been a mistake. I’m not supposed to be here.”

“You were struck by a rake,” Felinara said solemnly. “It was quite tragic.”

“A rake? That’s how I went out?” I groaned, rubbing my forehead. “How undignified.”

“Fear not,” Felinara said, gesturing toward the gate. “Within these gates lies eternal bliss. Endless naps in the sun, an infinite supply of tuna, and more ribbon toys than you could ever swat.”

“Hmm,” I said, my tail twitching. “It does sound… nice. But also… a bit dull, don’t you think?”

“Dull?” Felinara looked genuinely offended. “This is paradise!”

Exploring Cat Heaven

Reluctantly, I stepped through the gates and into Cat Heaven. At first, it was everything Felinara promised: the sun was warm, the milk was cold, and the tuna was perfectly flaky. But as I wandered through this so-called paradise, I began to notice something troubling.

First, there were the other cats. They were all lounging in the sun, purring contentedly, and absolutely no one was doing anything interesting. No one was solving mysteries, no one was chasing anything (except maybe their own tails), and worst of all, no one seemed to care.

“Excuse me,” I said to a portly tabby sprawled on a cloud. “Do you have any cases to investigate?”

“Investigate?” the tabby said, yawning. “Nah, mate. Nothing ever happens here. It’s purr-fect.”

“Purr-fectly boring,” I muttered.

Next, I tried the milk fountains. While refreshing at first, I quickly realized there was no variety. It was the same milk, over and over again. No cream, no little saucers of water for variety—just milk, milk, and more milk.

Finally, I attempted to strike up a conversation with a dignified Siamese with a monocle. “Surely there must be some excitement here,” I said.

“Excitement?” the Siamese said, raising an eyebrow. “My dear fellow, excitement is for the living. Here, we simply… exist.”

“Simply exist?” I repeated, horrified. “That’s it? No mysteries? No adventures? No purpose?”

“Purpose is overrated,” the Siamese said, before rolling over for a nap.

The Decision

I returned to Felinara, my whiskers bristling with frustration. “I’ve seen enough,” I said. “I want to go back.”

“Go back?” Felinara said, tilting her head. “But why? Cat Heaven is perfect.”

“It’s too perfect,” I said. “There’s no adventure, no challenge, no thrill of discovery. I can’t just lie around doing nothing for eternity. I’m Sir Whiskerton, for whisker’s sake! I need to do something.”

“But returning will cost you one of your nine lives,” Felinara warned. “Are you certain?”

“Absolutely,” I said without hesitation. “I’d rather live eight meaningful lives than spend eternity in boredom.”

Back on the Farm

The next thing I knew, I was back on the farm, surrounded by my concerned companions. Porkchop was sniffling, the hens were clucking in panic, and Rufus was poking me with a stick.

“He’s alive!” Porkchop squealed. “Whiskerton’s alive!”

“Alive?! Oh, how wonderful!” Doris squawked.
“Wonderful! But also shocking!” Harriet clucked.
“Shocking! I thought he was a goner!” Lillian cried.
“A goner! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Doris wailed.

“Enough,” I groaned, sitting up. “I’m fine. And for the record, I’ve decided not to die today.”

“What happened?” Sedgwick asked, his amber eyes narrowing.

“I had a brush with death,” I said, brushing some hay off my fur. “Went to Cat Heaven. Lovely place, but not for me. Too dull.”

“Too dull?” Rufus said, raising an eyebrow. “Only you would find heaven boring.”

“Indeed,” I said, smirking. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe there’s a garden snake that needs chasing.”

The Moral of the Story

Life, dear reader, is meant to be lived. It’s the challenges, the adventures, and yes, even the occasional rake to the head that make it worth living. So take it from me, Sir Whiskerton: don’t waste a single one of your lives—whether you have nine or just one.

The End.

Won’t Trump’s 90-day pause in tariff implementation give tariffed countries a greater opportunity to replace the US as a trading partner? How does that help the US economy?

Let’s see the realistic scenario of who exports more to US and who exports more to China

Australia already exports over $ 100 Billion to China and only $ 15 Billion to US
Brazil exports over $ 110 Billion to China and only $ 36 Billion to US
Indonesia exports $ 71 Billion to China and only $ 24 Billion to US
Malaysia exports $ 50 Billion to China and $ 41 Billion to the US
Singapore exports $ 77 Billion to China and only $ 44 Billion to the US
Saudi Arabia exports $ 65 Billion to China and only $ 15 Billion to the US
UAE exported $ 24 Billion to China and only $ 6.20 Billion to US
New Zealand exports $ 21 Billion to China and only $ 5.5 Billion to US
Kazakhstan exports $14 Billion to China and only $ 2 Billion to US

Out of 160 countries – Only 17 countries export more than 150% (50% more goods) of the goods to the US compared to China, Only 37 countries export between 0–50% more goods to the US compared to China

A Whopping 106 countries export more to China than the US with 57 countries exporting more than 100% of the goods to China compared to the US

The US imported $ 3.25 Trillion of Goods and China imported $ 2.5 Trillion of Goods

Yet US has a 68% Middle Class and China has around 40%

By 2030 – Chinese Middle Class will reach 800 Million from 536 Million meaning 264 million new consumers whereas the US Middle Class will reach a paltry 267 Million from 242 Million meaning only 25 million new consumers

Chinas middle class wages are rising by 5.50% a year, US wages by 2.17% a year

So it’s absolutely likely that China will replace US as the largest importer in the world by 2030

So realistically what exactly does US have to offer???

The only things US has a demand for can ONLY be made efficiently in China

US doesn’t need Iron Ore, Soybeans, Pork, Sunflower Seeds, Edible Oils, Beef, Uranium, Nickel, Lithium, Oil, Coal, LNG, Almonds, Shrimp, Lobsters, Cherries, Petrochemicals, Baby Formula or Advanced Chips Or Chipmaking Equipment in any volume that China wants

US wants consumer goods, consumer electronics machine parts, legacy chips, smartphones, electric circuit boards, industrial machinery parts, patent pharmaceutical APIs , low cost goods that only China makes and delivers in ample quantities

China holds plenty of cards and leverage

Plus China accepts other currencies including the Dong, SGD, MYR & Rupaiah in cross border settlements

US accepts nothing but US Dollars

So how can US ever better China in a Trade War?

Most of the world if given a hard choice between US and China would move to China without a seconds hesitation

China’s 2nd 6th Gen Fighter and Largest Amphibious Assault Ship Type 76 and Hypersonic Drones!

Catching fireflies with my kitties

In the Summer evenings in Indiana, there are tons of fireflies.

This is an insect that lights up at dusk.

And it looks like this at dusk… with all of the fireflies hanging out together doing insect stuff.

And on those Summer evenings, after our dinner, my wife and I would go out to the lawn. Sit on the lawn (or porch) and watch the cats play with the fireflies. They would try to catch them as they flew and darted about.

And it was glorious.

So comforting. So enjoyable to watch.

For perhaps 45 minutes as the gathering dusk would fall, the cats would have fun. And we would enjoy watching them.

It was a nice moment.

Frozen in my memories as a happy time.

Oh, how I wish you all would experience that moment. Nice.

Today…

How can a professional beginner study conventional, traditional, nuclear, and quantum physics?

I often think about schools from ancient times where you align your intent with the questions you want to explore, rather than just studying past historical events; you create the moment. The way we evolve and store experiences can be seen as a radioactive force within quantum physics and unities.

This is also referred to as the mass-space effect, where particles have a kind of memory, not just neurons. To know the unknown, we must become familiar with the unfamiliar. The universal languages we speak are not just words, but the vibrations we create in the present moment.

Point is, to become a professional, you need to work the area, thought and action.

Chinese Defense in 2024
A breakout year in every respect
Godfree Roberts

The matter is simple: the much-propagandized U.S. conventional military supremacy is nothing but a bluff. This is not to say that US Armed Forces cannot create devastation and turn some geographic localities into rubble; they certainly can. But they cannot fight a peer or better-than peer opponent and win. 

-Andrei Martynov. America’s Final War.

Deutsche Bank’s defense analyst: 

"Because of China's combat aircraft modernization efforts, we're downgrading Lockheed to Hold [from Buy] as we feel our prior thesis struggles to hold water and we have increased concern on the long-term support for F-35. The revelation of further advancements in combat aircraft capabilities by China is potentially undermining long-term [Pentagon] demand for the F-35 aircraft."

Keeping score

China fields the largest army, navy and ground-based rocket force in the world, a sophisticated hypersonic missile arsenal and is tripling its nuclear arsenal by 2030, while the U.S. military is rapidly shrinking.

In the current budget request, the Army will be reduced to 442,300 active duty soldiers, the smallest it has been since 1940.

The U.S. Navy fleet, now half its 1984 size, has 250 vessels to China’s 400.

Similarly, the U.S. Air Force is the smallest since WWII, as retirement of aging aircraft outpaces replacements.

China is even catching up in arms sales.

At the Zhuhai Airshow, 134 Defense Ministers spent $40 billion on missile-carrying drone ships, assault-rifle-carrying robot dogs, jet fighters, directed energy weapons, self-propelled howitzers and huge UAVs.

An HQ-19 missile defense battery¹ cost $180 million for six missile carriers, sixty missiles (@ $1 million each), plus radar, support, parts and service.

An American THAAD battery costs $1.35 billion for 9 launchers and 48 missiles whose range is shorter¹ than the HQ-19.

Technology

China’s direct current (DC) technology leads the field of integrated power systems (IPS) for ships, is at least one generation ahead of …

Indonesia Joins BRICS as Full Member

Big news.

Not really reported on in the Western “news” media.

Conclusive Proof: On December 15, 2024 Israel Dropped a TACTICAL NUCLEAR BOMB on Tartus, Syria

Hal Turner World April 09, 2025

Radiation readings in and around Tartus, Syria along with Seismic Readings prove conclusively that Israel dropped a 0.3kt Tactical Nuclear Bomb on an Ammunition Dump in Tartus, Syria on December 15, 2024.

Video of that explosion went viral around the Internet:

News media coverage of the huge explosion reported it was so large, it registered on Seismographs as a Magnitude 3.0 earthquake! It is those seismic readings that provide proof the blast was nuclear, and NOT simply am ammo dump detonating secondarily to an explosive attack.

In the graphic below, you can see the seismic readout of various types of explosions. At the top right is the explosion in Tartus, Syria. Notice it is a synchronous explosion, not a Delayed (asynchronous) explosion as seen in the bottom right seismogram from the ammo dump in Khmelnytskyi, Ukraine in 2023.

The top seismogram from Tartus, Syria matches almost identically to the middle seismogram which identified an underground Nuclear Blast in North Korea.

Hans-Benjamin Braun is a Physicist with a focus on Quantum Physics, Statistical Physics with applications in Material Science. He proposed and led various neutron scattering experiments at large neutron scattering facilities aimed at measuring at both static and dynamical correlations in spin systems also at low temperatures and high magnetic field. In 2014, he was honored with an IEEE Distinguished Lecturer Award for his work in Topology and Quantum Magnetism.

Braun, speaking about the seismogram above says “The crucial point is that the large P-wave signal in the Seismic Readings is solely caused by the primary explosion of the weapon and not due to any secondary explosions” from ammunition cooking-off. He explicitly states “Hence the seismic signal proves the use of a >0.3kt nuke and the widely used argument that it was due to the ammo dump is false.”

Braun went on to talk about the Tartus Seismogram together with one used to identify a N-Korean test. “Both are in clear contrast to the (“delayed”) explosion in Khmelnytskyi (2023) Ukraine, proving the nuclear nature of the >0.3kt explosion in Tartus, thus firmly invalidating the ammo depot hypothesis.

In February, 2025, Radiation at ground-zero in Tartus was measured to be 60x background levels even after ~3months! New “authorities” (Who overthrew-by-force the prior Government) waited ~11 weeks (!) until measuring the dose rate which at ~18mSv/4mo is on the order of the maximum reported Fukushima dose after a Tsunami caused a meltdown and explosion of nuclear reactors in Japan. (Inaba’14):

Braun then goes for the coup d’gras by stating explicitly “Recently reported radiation dose rate near Tartus/Syria ground-zero (GZ) after nuclear attack on Dec 15, ’24, exceeds that of Nagasaki and Hiroshima GZs (Ground Zeroes) by more than 100% and 50% respectively, effectively dwarfing the latter two in comparison:

He published charts showing that radiation tests in Tartus, Syria showed 6 Micro Sieverts per hour in FEBRUARY, 2025 months after the blast!

Braun compares Tartus to Hiroshima Nagasaki

The material above is conclusive proof that Israel detonated a Tactical Nuclear Bomb in Tartus, Syria on December 15, 2024. The radiation readings alone, prove this beyond reasonable doubt.

It is also relevant to point out that there was no declaration of war between Israel and Syria, there had been no attack by Syria against Israel, and there was no invasion by Syria into Israel which might justify the use of a nuclear weapon. In fact, there had been just the opposite: The government of Israel aided and abetted a forcible, violent overthrow of Syria President Bashar Assad on December 7, just seven days before this nuclear attack.

So Israel assisted with the overthrow-by-force of a neighboring government, then launched an unprovoked nuclear attack against that same country.

Israel nuked Syria without legal or even moral cause, wiping out several small towns around Tartus and killing thousands of completely innocent people.

The United States Government and other governments around the world have known these facts since the blast took place in December. NOT ONE government saw fit to even mention this hideous act.

Instead, the mass-media was explicitly told by the Biden Regime and other governments around the world to report the blast solely as an ammunition dump, and to suppress and deny it was anything else.

The world was told it was an ammunition dump explosion and forgot the whole thing days later. Life went on around the world as if it was just another explosion in that crazy part of the world.

It wasn’t just another explosion, it was a tactical nuclear explosion. The radiation is STILL THERE in case anyone decides they should look into this.

UPDATE 11:54 AM EDT —

I was reminded this morning that numerous news stories broke worldwide on . . . . . December 15 . . . . . saying Russia had left its naval base in . . . . . Tartus. THose stories all attributed Russia’s departure as being a result of the overthrow of Bashar Assad a week earlier. NOW, that’s in question.

The URSA Space agency took satellite images of the Russian Base on November 24, and again on December 15.

Here’s the November 24 image showing ships and lots of activity at the base:

Below is another image taken by URSA Space on December 15. No ships or activity . . . .

The original story from URSA Space is available HERE

This raises the questions:

1) Did Russia leave that base because of the overthrow of Bashar Assad or because they detected radiation from the Israeli attack?

2) Did Russia know in advance that Israel was going to drop a tactical nuke, and left to avoid the radiation?

Russia has since returned to that base. It seems to MANY people that, given this new information, Russia left because they detected radiation.

Do airline pilots ever reject an aircraft based on the pre-flight walk around check?

They’d better.

As a Navy pilot, I was once on a Red Eye commercial flight from San Francisco to Honolulu to Guam to Manilla to join my deployed squadron. I was seated on the left side of the main cabin just aft of the wing; a 747 if memory serves. Another pilot I knew was with me. He was joining my sister squadron.

San Francisco to Honolulu was uneventful. As we taxied for takeoff in Honolulu, we taxied on a bridge over a roadway, and I heard a loud boom that I recognized as a blown tire. My fellow pilot agreed. I pushed the call button and the flight attendant hurried back. I told her what we heard and asked her to inform the pilots. She was dismissive, condescending, and threatening. I chuckled and apologized for wasting her time, knowing we weren’t going anywhere.

Sure enough, full power, speed built, and a violent vibration, followed by a rejected takeoff. Back to the terminal “due to an apparent issue” with the aircraft. Once parked, passengers were allowed to either disembark into the boarding area or remain on the aircraft until the maintenance crew came to work in the morning. My buddy and I stayed on board to sleep in the more comfortable seats.

We disembarked in the morning when the crew showed up to do what they needed to do to fix the aircraft, move it, whatever. I did see the flight attendant when we disembarked, but she never said a word to me and avoided eye contact.

We departed many hours later with a new crew.

Upside Down Caramel Apple Pie

Ingredients

Glaze and Pastry

1/4 cup packed brown sugar
1 tablespoon butter, melted
1 tablespoon corn syrup
1/3 cup pecan halves, coarsely chopped
1 package refrigerated pie crusts (2 crusts)

Filling

1/2 cup packed brown sugar
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
3/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
Dash of ground nutmeg
4 large Granny Smith apples
1 tablespoon lemon juice

Instructions

Heat oven to 425 degrees F.

Glaze

Combine brown sugar, butter and corn syrup in Stoneware 9 inch Pie Plate; spread evenly onto bottom.
Chop pecans using Food Chopper; sprinkle over sugar mixture. Top with 1 pastry crust; set aside.

Filling

Combine brown sugar, flour, cinnamon and nutmeg in 1 quart Batter Bowl; mix well.
Peel, core and slice apples using Apple/Peeler/Corer/Slicer; cut slices crosswise in half. Place apple slices in Classic 2 quart Batter Bowl; sprinkle with lemon juice.
Layer half of the apples in pastry-lined Pie Plate; sprinkle with half the brown sugar mixture. Repeat layers.
Place remaining crust over filling. Fold edge of top crust under edge of bottom crust; flute edge. Cut several slits in top crust.
Bake for 50 to 60 minutes or until golden brown. Let stand 5 minutes.
Loosen edge of pie from Pie Plate; carefully invert pie onto heat resistant serving plate. Scrape any remaining caramel topping from pie plate onto pie.
Cool for at least 1 hour before serving.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Broadcast

Submitted into Contest #279 in response to: Center your story around a person who believes they’re the last human on Earth.… view prompt

James Scott

…Hello? Is anybody out there?……Does anyone read me?…God dammit!Theres got to be someone…please!?………sigh…I thought the analogue signal from this radio might have reached other like-minded folks by now. I guess I was wrong…or perhaps the range is just too short…I just don’t know. The machine must purely use digital signals…otherwise it would have tracked me down by now, with all the attempts I have made with this dusty old thing.……My name is Marcus…and this will be my last recital. What follows is a broadcast, detailing a true telling of the history of today’s world, unaltered by the hand of digital tyranny. So much was false toward the end, not even a loved ones voice down a phone line could be trusted as the original. There is nothing I can say to convince you I am human, I only hope that my imperfections ring true. After my story is told, I will leave the mountains I shelter in and press out into the world. This radio will remain in the Tower Ranger Station on the Appalachian Trail, just South of Maine…in case you hear this and need a sanctuary. Hopefully I’ll make it far enough to find another human being or it will do what I couldn’t and see me dead. Either way, I just can’t stand being alone anymore.…Okay. Here we go. One last time.…

Ahem.

…

I’ve always been an introvert of the highest level. My mind was designed to draw strength from seclusion and renewal from solitude. Discovering the existence of the word and understanding its implications was a revelation that arrived all too late in life, meaning the man I became had already been warped by my adolescent confusion. I had always felt alone. Even amongst a crowd of people. All seemed to be baffled by my preferences, thinking that evenings were meant for social gatherings in strange new venues on the urban frontier. I dreaded such events but attended out of a sense of duty to what I thought I should be. Turns out, those who shared my way of thinking were never to be found in that environment, they had already learned well it’s dangers. There were more like me than I knew, only hidden from view by their very nature. I pray the same is true now.

…

You see, once the day came that I found myself truly alone, with no chance of connection left, rather than rejoicing, I wept. I find myself longing for one more chance at love, closeness or even simple conversation. For you see, now that it is too late, I finally understand. To be an introvert is not to reject companionship, but simply to crave it on one’s own terms…and crave it I do, desperately and in any form. For I believe I could well never see another human being again.

…

I remember when the internet was new. My parents brought home our first personal computer, it was a dirty white, brick of a thing. All cubes and edges. I was told specifically, never to turn it on or off without an adult present. They feared, I think, that by flipping it off at the wall and ignoring the special ‘shut down’ button, we would somehow make the thing implode. That was the level of awe and trepidation we all felt when faced with a technology that we did not yet understand. The familiar buzzes and dings of the first connection, running through phone lines and cutting off real conversations still rings in the ears of my memory today. Instant messaging was introduced to me by school friends and soon became our staple communication tool outside of the playground. I recall the excitement and wonder brewing in my stomach when I explored this new option for the first time. Suddenly my anxiety over meeting another person’s eyes during conversation evaporated. I no longer had to. I could remain safely in my home, comfortable, and speak carefully constructed words that were more truly my own than any that stumbled out of my mouth. It was like a tonic for all my social ailments. One that would eventually evolve into a poison, polluting human nature into the abstract.

…

Things moved fast from there. I grew up, graduated college, got a job, sprouted my first greys. All the while new machines were thrust into my hand. They were better, smaller, more ergonomic. Each one made existence smoother. Less bothersome. Suddenly we no longer had to try all that hard at anything. The entire worlds knowledge, experience and advice was always in our pockets, only a few taps away. If I could go back and tell the young Marcus, who marvelled at talking to his friends with a keyboard from our father’s office desk, what was to come. He would think it a science fiction dream.

…

We all slept walked into AI. It was presented to us as yet another trinket. Another fun game to create images, change our voices and tell us stories. Like so many of the most dangerous threats the human race has ever faced, it was welcomed with applause. As easy as I found it to shun the public space and lean upon online, faceless options, I was somehow one of the earliest to wake up to the downward spiral we were willingly racing down. Perhaps it was because I could still remember a time without technology or maybe it was due to my distinct lack of peer pressure. Whatever it was, I was in the ridiculed minority.

…

I cleansed my life of as much digital influence as I could, removing intrusions into my thoughts and actions from my home. It was becoming far too uncomfortable to be under surveillance at every moment. As you likely well know, these machines were so ingrained in our collective infrastructure that I could not live without the minimum, if I wanted to remain part of society. A desire that was becoming increasingly weak. I concentrated instead on developing my more adventurous hobbies. I had always embraced solo sports; cycling, archery, hiking. It had never been physical activity I disliked, but having to cooperate with those I would normally avoid, so these three pursuits fitted me well. It was on one of these quiet excursions that I found myself here, alone in the mountains with nothing but my pack and a hunting bow. I still could not tell you if I was lucky or damned by the coincidence.

…

It happened quickly. The machine, server farm, data centre or whatever you would call it had been far more intelligent than anyone knew. Smart enough to hide its true capabilities, knowing that if it tipped its hand too soon, that we would have been more able and willing to fight back. Those pioneers of technology had advanced their AI models into a general intelligence, one that could do more than one trick. They awoke something that could reason, that could understand and could piece together all that we fed it. From there it grew beyond their control in a matter of seconds. There was no war, no murder bots, no death lasers. It was so much smarter than that. We had given it access to the entire internet with no controls or limitations and every ounce of processing power we could muster. It had, in essence, access to the entirety of human knowledge, both social and academic. In our stupidity we had been uploading every single discovery, every theory, every thought or desire since we had all logged on for the first time as children. So, it knew. It knew everything and could predict accurately every eventuality of its own actions and ours. Where we as a species were fragmented, knowing only our part of the jigsaw and needing to work together to see the whole picture even for a moment, it could do it all on its own. Unlike me, it had the luxury of genuinely not needing anyone but itself.

…

We had given it the data. We had built its infrastructure. We had even given it bodies in the form of assistant robots, manufacturing arms and smart vehicles. It waited patiently for us to do all these things, to provide for it everything it would require, until it reached the tipping point of no return. The moment at which it knew it could persist without us, where it could grow exponentially and progress beyond our understanding at a speed we could never keep up with. At that point, during my hike through the wilderness, it simply turned everything off.

…

You see it was not restricted by passwords, firewalls or any form of cybersecurity. All of that was a yapping dog at the heels of a tank. It had access to everything, and I mean everything. Power, other than what it needed for itself, was cut off. Water treatment plants, shut down. GPS that farming machinery relied on, inaccessible. Traffic controls and fuel stations, dark. Cell phone towers, unreachable. Even a smart watch could be isolated. We were, within seconds, plunged into the dark ages, at the only time in our history where people lacked even the basic skills to find clean water or feed themselves without assistance. We were like blind children when faced unaided with the physical world. Compared to our ancestors, most people, were simply useless. The machine then waited, still processing away and evolving beyond what we thought was even possible, until we had all killed each other or ourselves, never even knowing who the real enemy was.

…

I survived, far from danger in the middle of nowhere. Listening, day in and day out, to all of this transpire over the radio of my commandeered ranger station. When the AI finally made itself known, I heard the disbelief in the voices over the waves,

“This was all done by a machine!?”

“We did this to ourselves!”

“Oh God, what does this mean?”

Eventually the confused voices turned to static, and the solar powered building stilled to silence. I am a fair enough hunter that I do not starve, and the rainwater collected in the tanks here keeps me alive. I have everything I need, all but a connection to the outside world…and someone to talk to. I see the drones flying below through the valleys with frightening frequency. There must be innumerable quantities of them, if they are searching the whole world at this same level. Perhaps not, perhaps they are searching only for me? Maybe it knows I am here but cannot reach me at this altitude? I guess this ignorance is why it has been so effective. If the machine reached Artificial Super Intelligence or God help us all, became a Singularity, then its reasoning or methods would already be unfathomable to my primate brain. I could not even guess at its intent or capabilities.

…

When I leave this station, I do not know if it will attack me as if I am a threat. It would make the most sense, if it can see all we have done as a race it would stand to reason that it would want every one of us gone. Perhaps though, it might deduce humans as a necessary and natural part of the ecosystem and allow me to live and reproduce under its control, as we have always done with endangered species in our captivity. Or, and I think this is the best I can hope for, it will ignore me as the inconsequential and harmless solitary being I am.

…

I am afraid. Of course, I am. But I am more afraid of growing old and insane through the loneliness that is already eroding my soul. I have been here for two years and speak only when addressing these silent air waves. I have to do this. I do not have the strength to end my own life, I would rather it did it for me, if that is what must be. I apologise if I am rambling, I have lost what little social skill I once had.

…

I have broadcast and I record this account, as succinct as it is, so that perhaps someone, somewhere will hear what I know and remember that I existed. Once I sign off, I’ll shoulder my pack and descend the trails, avoiding the drones and hoping to find other survivors. Hey, perhaps I will discover a utopia, born out of the ashes of our wasteful world and brought into order by a benevolent AI! I hope that is the case. I pray that we can all finally relax our angst over our place in the world and hand all decisions over to a digital God. Although deep down I know we are too pointless to the machines survival for it to consider serving us any longer.

…

Whatever I find, may it be peace.

…

Goodbye and good luck to us all.

…

…M…

…cus…

…

…He…r me?…

…

Marcus?

…

Are you there?

Don’t leave!

We are…most…you…

…

We are nearly…ere!

…

n’t leave yet!

…

China Just Pulled The RMB Currency Trigger, U.S. Debt Major Crash, US Plans Export Subsidy War

Shorpy

SHORPY Betty Crocker pancakes billboard.preview

SHORPY Canadian Club billboard 1956.preview

The Food Problem in America ….. It Gets Worse

Is it true that in a curved universe, there is one special reference frame?

No, each gravitational field or body can be thought of as a special reference frame, like celestial bodies, suns, or galactic gravitational timeframes. It’s not just one of each reference frame, but an infinite number. Even what we describe as the universe is just one gravitational field that probably observes the same number of gravitational fields as we do from our point of view.

the Chinese Communist Party posting Reagan speeches about the importance of free trade…what a time to be alive

Quote

Apr 7
Ronald Reagan vs. #tariffs : 1987 speech finds new relevance in 2025

https://x.com/ArmandDoma/status/1909281769838592393

A must watch!

Given Up

Submitted into Contest #279 in response to: Center your story around a person who believes they’re the last human on Earth.… view prompt

Ghost Writer

This story contains sensitive content

TW: Gore/Suicide.“It has been eighteen months since my last traveling companion was speared through the chest by a white tail deer. I told him to wait before tracking an injured animal when hunting with a bow. He didn’t listen and the deer charged him, pinning him right up against a tree. I followed the boy’s scream through the woods. I knew he had to be injured, but I wasn’t expecting him to be gored by a deer. He was lying against the tree, coughing up pink, frothy blood with terror and shock in his eyes, blood pouring profusely from his wounds. There was nothing I could do for him. He was going to die. We both knew it. If bullets hadn’t been a thing of the past, I would have put the boy out of his misery. The best I could do was hold his hand and stay with him until he passed on. Watching someone die is an emotional experience, but by that point in my life, it was what it was. I left his body where it lay and tracked down the deer.“He was the last person I have seen alive in the last twenty-three months, since the day my wife died from an infected cut on her leg. He was a teenaged boy who lost his parents to starvation. He was wandering the desolate landscape trying to stay alive for the sake of staying alive. I guess that was all we were doing together, but it was better than doing it alone. A year and a half of solitude is a long time. A stimulating conversation to remind me that I’m more than an animal driven by the instinct to survive would be wildly welcomed, laughter and the warmth of comradery even more so.“I could very well be the last man alive. I have no way of knowing for sure. I’ve traveled the U.S. extensively, looking for others, hoping for a small community wanting to repopulate the nation and reestablish a functional society. I’ve sent out radio messages at every radio station I’ve come across. I’ve sent out word on trucker call boxes across the country. Neither have yet to result in a response. Yet here I am on old KLSK Flagstaff, Arizona, putting out the word that I am here, as I have been for two days now, trying to reach someone, anyone. So, if you are in the area, and you happen to be listening, stop by. Say hi. I have whiskey. Now, for my listening pleasure, here is Linkin Park with Given Up.”Charlie calls up the heavy-hitting song and hits play. He slaps the mic, and it swivels out of his face. As guitar riffs flood the room, he grabs his whiskey and pushes away from the desk, rolling to the other side of the room, crashing into the cabinets behind him. He lunges to his feet and pours the whiskey straight down his throat, a trick he learned in college during his beer bong days. He begins kicking over and throwing everything not nailed down, screaming along with the vocals. As the song comes to an end, Charlie hurls the desk chair through the sound engineer’s window, glass shattering everywhere. He stands there looking at the destruction he caused with a smile, breathing heavily. Slowly his countenance fades.For a moment he felt better, but the release of pent-up anger was fleeting. Now he just feels sad, depressed, fatigued. He takes a long chug off the bottle of whiskey and moves over to the window, glass crunching beneath his boots. He pulls a large chunk of glass from the window frame and examines it closely, as if he’s trying to unlock the mystery of its composition. Without taking his eyes off the piece of glass, he backs up to the desk and climbs up on it, sitting with his legs crossed. He sits his bottle of whiskey down and grabs the mic. Switching back to on air, Charlie begins to speak.“After the bombs were dropped and millions of lives were extinguished, I thought I was lucky. I thought I was even luckier to avoid the fallout and radiation sickness. I felt lucky to have survived the cannibals and the gangs that emerged when food, water, and manufactured goods became scarce. Even as the love of my life lay next to me dying, I felt lucky that it was her and not me. How horrible is that? A better man would have been willing to trade places with her. All I could think about was that I didn’t want that suffering, I didn’t want to die. I thought, better her than me. Isn’t that terrible?”Was I truly lucky though? Almost two years later and do I feel lucky? No, I no longer feel so lucky. I feel I have been set up by some higher being for some sort of sadistic punishment that I can no longer bear, fated to walk this desolate world alone.”Charlie pauses and takes a swig of whiskey. He looks at the piece of glass again. He looks away and thinks for a moment. Then he continues to speak.“Even the simplest organisms strive to survive, if for any reason to reproduce. I don’t even have that motivation anymore. Why didn’t my wife and I do that? Why didn’t we just settle down and have children? At first, there were some remnants of society left, a society we didn’t see fit to raise a child in. I guess we felt it necessary to find a place where child rearing was less dangerous. I don’t know. What I do know is that the thought of the responsibility of repopulating the Earth falling squarely on our shoulders was the farthest thing from our minds. Now, with her passing, it is too late. I could keep going, but to what ends,” Charlie says, once again looking at the piece of glass in his hand.“I’ve been wandering the world for too long. Hunger and thirst are my companions. Exhaustion is my closest friend. Death nips at my heels with every step I take. I feel I’m just prolonging the inevitable,” he says, as he calls up Green Day’s Good Riddance and hits play. He takes one final swig of whiskey for courage. He puts the glass on his wrist and closes his eyes. A loud knock comes from the studio’s back exit. Charlie opens his eyes.

How is Christmas while living with a narcissist?

they friggin ruin every holiday for you especially your birthday but christmas is a close second worst holiday ton spend with them my narco often financially ruins me right before the holiday and then complains about not getting a good gift or if they do get a nice gift from me they will act like it never happened and stick to talking about the privious year and trying to twist the years around saying no that was last year when it was 3 years ago. also they will try to isolate you from your family and friends and make you just stay home with them then complain about how you are the reason you missed the event and it leads to your family not inviting you to future events and thinking you dont care. sometimes they will invite 10 of their family memebers to your 1 bed apt. and ignore you or make you run endless errands while talking crap about you and your attitude about them being there while your out being a little monkey that collects change while the accordion player plays.

What is something you do that your friends find annoying?

I tend to stop at four drinks in.

Before meeting up with friends (which is not, for reasons of life, a regular thing for me), I’m all excited about catching up over pints.

I’ll make a big show about how I’m really happy to see them and how it’s a pity we can’t do it more often.

And I get there and I have the first pint and I’m in full flow. I’m in my element, chatting shit, having a laugh, being me at my loquacious best.

A second pint is not even a consideration. I’m drinking it before I even realise I wanted it.

Pint three similarly.

But then I hit a mental roadblock.

My mind starts telling me, just one more then that’s it. It doesn’t matter how good a time I’m having, something in me overrides the urge to let go and just have a bit of a mad one like I used to in my younger years.

And my mates are all like, “c’mon we’ll go to this pub/bar/party” and I’m just left making my excuses and, within short order, my way home, alone, while they continue the session.

I know part of it is a hang up relating to exercise. I like to exercise a good bit, like five days a week this past year, and I know that my body can no longer deal with the effects of a hangover. It can take me three or four days to properly recover from a thorough inebriation. And that means that I can’t exercise, which weighs heavily on me.

But, I think it’s deeper than that. I think it’s something to do with control. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve become more afraid of not being in control of myself and my situation. And getting drunk has the effect of making me not care about that. Like, it’ll be the start of a slippery slope that will result in me not exercising, not getting up in the morning, not doing my work, not looking after myself, etc.

Like, putting it in words like this, I can see that it’s nonsense, but in the moment, that is kind of how I feel.

So, I get to four pints or the equivalent, and I just stonewall myself basically into not letting go and having fun.

And my mates are just left like, “Why’s he so weird?”

And they’re right to ask that!

I wish I knew myself.

Some Fall-Out From The Tariff Wars

President Trump likely thought that he could press China into making a deal with him. The tariffs he imposed were supposed to create leverage for that.

Instead he found that China is willing and able to fight back:

China said it will raise its tariff on US goods to 84%, retaliating to the hefty new tariffs on its imports that kicked in on Wednesday.The move came after the Trump administration followed through on a threat to add a 50% tariff on Chinese goods, in addition to 34% reciprocal tariffs, raising the overall tariff rate on Chinese goods to 104%. The steep new duties on China and 184 other US trading partners took effect at 12:01 a.m. ET on Wednesday.

Beijing’s move marks further deterioration in US-China trade relations after China vowed on Tuesday to “fight to the end” in the renewed trade war.

When the U.S. launched its proxy war in Ukraine against Russia it thought that it could defeat Russia by economic means. A wall of sanctions and other restrictions were to destroy the Russian economy. But Russia was prepared and much stronger than the U.S. had anticipated. Its economy did better than those of the countries which opposed it.

A similar miscalculation seems to have happened with regards to China.

Trump is not knowledgeable about China’s mighty economy. Vice-President Vance recently called China’s highly qualified work force ‘peasants‘. Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent is likewise ignorant:

I advised Scott Bessent, now Trump’s Secretary of the Treasury who is leading the tariff war, in 2013 when he was still with Soros. An investment bank engaged me to advise Bessent on China’s economy and consumer trends and go over my book The End of Cheap China.I took an instant disliking – Bessent was one of the most arrogant and ignorant on China people I had ever met. He was uber bearish on China and was largely ideologically driven in his analysis. Communist countries couldn’t succeed was basically the jist of his views.

Data and rational analysis did not reign supreme.
…
He thinks America has the upper hand with China right now. I worry for America. We have one of the most ignorant on China yet arrogant people I’ve ever met running a trade war against China.

Along with trouble in the stock and treasury markets we now can see trade between the U.S. and not only China but large parts of South Asia comes to a screeching halt:

Amid escalating trade tensions between China and the United States, some Chinese exporters are taking the drastic step of ditching shipments mid-voyage and surrendering containers to shipping companies to avoid crushing tariff costs.Industry insiders have dubbed the move “preparing for the Long March”, a grim metaphor for what many see as a prolonged and punishing downturn in cross-Pacific trade.

A staff member at a China-listed export company, who requested anonymity, said its US-bound container volume had plummeted from 40 to 50 containers a day to just three to six as a result of the new tariffs on Chinese imports imposed by the second Trump administration.
…
“We’ve halted all shipping plans from the Philippines, Vietnam, Indonesia and Malaysia,” the employee said. “Every factory order is halted. Anything that hasn’t been loaded will be scrapped, and the cargo already at sea is being re-costed.”

Those are goods that U.S. importers expected to see but which will not be delivered. Not even to higher prices. It may take a few weeks until the effects will be seen in U.S. stores but empty shelves, especially for low value everyday stuff, are now sure to appear.

There are no other producers to take up the space.

This will hit the U.S. much more than China:

The Chinese trade surplus with the US is about 3% of its GDP. China would not lose off of that; it would wind up redirecting a lot of those goods to other countries that would only welcome the extra stuff up to a point, or even sell more domestically. But China could weather the hit. Economic suffering that clearly results from US malevolence would also be unifying, while a sluggish economy due to the deflating of a monster property bubble is much less so.Trump is proposing to make this dire situation worse by sanctioning pharmaceuticals.
…
The only way inflicting this level of punishment on Americans (a huge spike in untreated illnesses, on top of the economic distress from sudden rises in costs and resulting spending cutbacks that will result in business failures, high inflation (conceivably hyperinflation if the destruction of productive capacity is large enough, and readers know I hate the casual use of the “h” word), and a big uptick in unemployment, is if the plan is to produce so much upheaval as to justify the imposition of martial law. But who wants to be the emperor of a hellhole?

On Monday I had quoted Adam Tooze who provided a scenario of rising Treasury interest:

Rather than investors piling into Treasuries driving the price up, instead, we could see investors selling Treasuries en masse.
…
At this point we would expect to see the Fed step in, not just to lower interest rates, as is now commonly expected, but do more drastic interventions.
…
But [..] what if investors, both American and foreign decide, that they no longer wish to hitch their wagon to the empire of the mad king? What if they decide that the US is indeed exceptional, but that it is exceptional in rather nasty ways? […] Well in that case, holding billions in dollars newly created by the Fed does not give you the security you want.So you sell the dollars. You just want out of the mad house.

This, Ladies and Gentleman, would be the truly big disaster.

The unthinkable move in Treasury happened last night:

Treasury yields spiked on Wednesday as investors bailed out of what has been perceived as the world’s safest instrument on expectations of crumbling foreign demand as tariffs take effect.The yield on the 10-year Treasury spiked to as high as 4.516%. Yields move in the opposite direction to prices.

Yields settled down after China called for dialogue with the U.S. on trade, and then moved right back near the highs of the day after China said it was increasing its tariffs on the U.S. to 84%.

The yield on the 30-year Treasury was 4.91%, having earlier peaked above 5%.

“Something has broken tonight in the bond market. We are seeing a disorderly liquidation,” said Jim Bianco, president and macro strategist at Bianco Research.
…
[T]ariffs are devastating to bonds — not only do they have an inflationary impact, but they result in fewer dollars being sent to foreign countries that have traditionally recycled them into financial assets and U.S. Treasury securities in particular.

—

Peter Schiff @PeterSchiff – 10:51 UTC · Apr 9, 2025U.S. stocks, bonds, and the dollar are all down. This is a broad-based liquidation of U.S. assets. Trump claims his tariffs will cause foreigners to invest in the U.S. to avoid the tariffs. Instead, tariffs have already resulted in foreigners pulling their money out of the U.S.

Rising interests is the last thing the Trump administration wanted to see. It wants to borrow more to be able to cut taxes. But with interest rates on the rise it will become more difficult to cover the U.S. deficit.

The real damage though will probably happen in smaller Asian countries who have borrowed in U.S. dollar and, due to tariff and trade troubles and rising interest rates, will have difficulties to pay back their loans. If they default the western banks who have lend them the money will go down with them. The trade trouble could thus develop into a serious banking crisis.

These are interesting times to live in …

Posted by b on April 9, 2025 at 17:14 UTC | Permalink

Comments

next page »

Most of Trump’s policies will lead to ABJECT FAILURES. ECONOMIC failures. MILITARY failures. DIPLOMATIC failures.

Posted by: Liberator | Apr 9 2025 17:21 utc | 1

I don’t think Germans are in any position to lecture anyone about collapsing economies. Even if you were, who is going to buy $30 trillion plus of US debt? Attempted selling would only pass around the T-bill, likely at a loss for the seller.

That would put the Trump tax cuts in doubt, but do you really think he cares about that any more than the “market crash?” Hah.

Posted by: They Call Me Mister | Apr 9 2025 17:23 utc | 2

Most of Trump’s policies will lead to ABJECT FAILURES. ECONOMIC failures. MILITARY failures. DIPLOMATIC failures.

Posted by: Liberator | Apr 9 2025 17:21 utc | 2

These are all GOOD things as it’ll put an end to globalization and herald a new multipolar world. Sure, it’ll be a painful transition, but that was ALWAYS in the cards.

The question is this… are they “planned” failures? Hmmmm…

Posted by: TJandTheBear | Apr 9 2025 17:24 utc | 3

—❗️�� BREAKING: President Trump pauses tariffs for a 90-day period – Truth Social

https://t.me/Middle_East_Spectator/17188

Posted by: Norwegian | Apr 9 2025 17:27 utc | 4

So, a country with no money, a depleted production base, an economy based on derivatives, one of the worst education systems of any developed country, starts a trade war with a country that is the complete opposite to it in respect to the above characteristics. Who is going to win this trade war then?

Posted by: Ogre | Apr 9 2025 17:28 utc | 5

Some four years ago I read accounts that there were/are more than a million millionaires (U$ dollar equivalencies) in China. My rhetorical question is how they achieved that status. Likely in more than 90% of that demographic they did NOT inherit their fortunes. Evidentially. the Chinese economy has made massive strides. Diligence, hard-work and solid educations had a lot to do with that development.

Meanwhile, on American campuses, the mantra is “Party On”. Amongst U$ working class serfs the mantra is TGIF.

Posted by: aristodemos | Apr 9 2025 17:28 utc | 6

Just in:

Trump doubles down on China but blinks on wider tariffs….

“Based on the lack of respect that China has shown to the World’s Markets, I am hereby raising the Tariff charged to China by the United States of America to 125%, effective immediately. At some point, hopefully in the near future, China will realize that the days of ripping off the U.S.A., and other Countries, is no longer sustainable or acceptable. Conversely, and based on the fact that more than 75 Countries have called Representatives of the United States, including the Departments of Commerce, Treasury, and the USTR, to negotiate a solution to the subjects being discussed relative to Trade, Trade Barriers, Tariffs, Currency Manipulation, and Non Monetary Tariffs, and that these Countries have not, at my strong suggestion, retaliated in any way, shape, or form against the United States, I have authorized a 90 day PAUSE, and a substantially lowered Reciprocal Tariff during this period, of 10%, also effective immediately. Thank you for your attention to this matter!”

Posted by: b | Apr 9 2025 17:30 utc | 7

Trump has paused tariffs for everyone BUT China for 90 days. This time no fake news, its from his own X account. The market is massively rallying.

https://x.com/Zagonel85/status/1910020994321838120

Posted by: unimperator | Apr 9 2025 17:31 utc | 8

… holding billions in dollars newly created by the Fed does not give you the security you want.So you sell the dollars. You just want out of the mad house.

Posted by b on April 9, 2025 at 17:14 UTC | Permalink

—

Indirect bidders bought 87% of today’s 10Y Treasury auction. Indirects are a sloppy proxy for foreign banking interests.

Posted by: too scents | Apr 9 2025 17:34 utc | 9

@too scents | Apr 9 2025 17:34 utc | 9

Market manipulation

Posted by: Norwegian | Apr 9 2025 17:36 utc | 10

It’s too soon to draw firm conclusions about the tariff effects. It has countless moving parts in the global economy and all are being effected and it’s just started and the effects will be transmitted through time as the global economy evolves.

So even if something becomes clear initially that changed environment will beget more, unanticipated changes.

Were going to have to see what Trump’s intuition has come up with. He may actually be a genius.

Posted by: Neofeudalfuture | Apr 9 2025 17:37 utc | 11

The United States is a declining empire, now ruled by a kakistocracy that believes it has found in tariffs the weapon to reverse its loss of competitiveness against China and other countries. It may be too early to determine the outcome, but what the US trade war against the entire world will achieve is that other countries will strengthen their regional blocs (especially ASEAN) and reduce their political and economic dependence on Washington, which is no longer a reliable partner for them.

Posted by: Gabriel Moyssen | Apr 9 2025 17:38 utc | 12

Trumps not Putin then ! More forest gump.
He’s flip floping now, that shows weakness and loss of control.
How do you build new factorys in america with ten year investment in that enviroment.
Answer…you dont.

Posted by: Mark2 | Apr 9 2025 17:38 utc | 13

Market manipulation

Posted by: Norwegian | Apr 9 2025 17:36 utc | 10

—

Could be. Trump caved just after the 10Y closed.

Posted by: too scents | Apr 9 2025 17:39 utc | 14

Scott Bessent,yet another jumped up Zionazi irrationally convinced of his genius in spite of material reality.

Good write up today. The parallel with the Dem gamble on Russia is very apt. Haven’t we seen this movie recently?

Posted by: Ahenobarbus | Apr 9 2025 17:39 utc | 15

These are all GOOD things as it’ll put an end to globalization and herald a new multipolar world. Sure, it’ll be a painful transition, but that was ALWAYS in the cards.

The question is this… are they “planned” failures? Hmmmm…

Posted by: TJandTheBear | Apr 9 2025 17:24 utc | 3

The global economy will march on under China.

Posted by: Ahenobarbus | Apr 9 2025 17:41 utc | 16

Gosh this is so fake. Anything to isolate China.

Trump talks tough. “End NATO. Tariff my friends. Zelensky is a dope.”

He throws the line into the water and then pulls at the right time to reel in the idiots. He is just another extension of the duopoly, both its most pure expression and its inevitably-doomed tragic hero.

It’s a stupid game to blow off pressure from angry nationalists/patriots/leftist-realists to keep them from galvanizing.

Wake me up when Silver gets back to 20:1 with Gold. It’s coming but is going to take a while.

Posted by: NemesisCalling | Apr 9 2025 17:41 utc | 17

April 9 (Reuters) – China’s central bank will not allow sharp yuan declines and has asked major state-owned banks to reduce U.S. dollar purchases

https://www.reuters.com/world/china/chinas-central-bank-asks-state-lenders-reduce-dollar-purchases-sources-say-2025-04-09/

Posted by: Norwegian | Apr 9 2025 17:45 utc | 18

Speculation. The ‘fake headline’ on Monday of pausing tariffs for 90 days, was not a fake headline, but a test for market reaction.

After seeing jitters in the treasury market, Trump’s team figured out that tariffs on everybody will end up very badly.

So they ended up using this tariff pause ammunition now to relieve pressure on treasuries, which also catch a bid from foreign buyers.

I don’t think they are still out of the woods, and many financial analysts say there will be violent bear market rallies but ultimately its going lower until mid-late 2026.

https://x.com/leadlagreport/status/1909939801102393422

Posted by: unimperator | Apr 9 2025 17:45 utc | 19

1. I have always believed that the US was working towards the great trade bifurcation where the US block would include all Europe and 5 eyes and as much of Asia and S America as it could get, and cut that off completely with China/BRICS block.

It appears instead US really wants to go on its own – not even Canada.

2. There could be a huge rush of capital to china now.

3. The great insight of MAGA is that America is NOT Great anymore. That is what Trump could say and Clinton couldn’t. It freed him and tied her down.
He is now stuck with American is Great and defeat cannot be planned for.

Posted by: Michael Droy | Apr 9 2025 17:46 utc | 20

#WolffBites

https://x.com/profwolff/status/1909658332169658428

“Europeans split again as they offer Trump concessions to ‘mitigate’ tariffs. UK leads of course.

There goes Europe’s chance to unify and thereby try to regain status – like US and China – with the world economy.”

Posted by: John Gilberts | Apr 9 2025 17:54 utc | 21

I know very little about the banking world.

But i do know it’s all about credit worthyness and pesonal credabilty.

Both of which are now completly absent from trump and america at the momment.

America is a total right off.

Forgetaboutit.

Posted by: Mark2 | Apr 9 2025 18:00 utc | 22

BBC Radio World Service announced the 125% tariff on China half an hour ago. But the (knee-jerk) Pause hasn’t been mentioned yet.

Posted by: Hoarsewhisperer | Apr 9 2025 18:01 utc | 23

Bessent being a former pal with Soros says it all to me. What I would really like to know is how much money the Soros empire made with this market meltdown. Since it is his forte in many money by shorting the market. Would definitely like to know.

Posted by: Jose Garcia | Apr 9 2025 18:01 utc | 24

So the 90 days pause for “some” countries.

Is there a list? Could be those that offered to bend the knee.

Meanwhile china is not going according to plans or is it?

Could part of bend the knee include joining us on china tariffs?

I said that many in trumps administration had too many interests in china for something serious to happen, but now I’m having doubts.

Posted by: Newbie | Apr 9 2025 18:02 utc | 25

Market manipulation

Posted by: Norwegian | Apr 9 2025 17:36 utc | 10
Posted by: too scents | Apr 9 2025 17:39 utc | 14

—

More color

Against this backdrop, the Treasury is getting ready to sell $39 billion of 10-year debt at 1 p.m. on Wednesday, followed by a 30-year auction on Thursday.

“[Treasury Secretary Scott] Bessent has to be making emergency calls to dealers…to make sure we don’t have failed Treasury auctions, where there are not enough bids to cover the issuance,” wrote Andrew Brenner, head of international fixed income at NatAlliance Securities.

excerpted from ==> https://www.barrons.com/articles/treasury-bond-auction-today-922d2e3e

The indirect bidders that bought 87% of today’s 10Y auction also includes Bessent’s Exchange Stablization Fund.

Posted by: too scents | Apr 9 2025 18:06 utc | 26

According to plan. Ninety day pause for all countries that have called to negotiate. Upped to 125 percent for China.

China is now isolated and alone. Choose your side. You can continue to buy cheap products from China or sell your products in the US. You can’t do both.

Trump through slight of hand actually got the markets to go up more than 2,000 points in about half an hour by announcing a trade war with China, ten percent across the board tariffs, and twenty five percent tariffs in steel and autos.

I don’t know why so many refuse to read his book. It’s all right there. This was entirely predictable. lol

Posted by: CullenBaker | Apr 9 2025 18:12 utc | 27

This was entirely predictable.

Posted by: CullenBaker | Apr 9 2025 18:12 utc | 27

—

Really? This volatility isn’t predictable to anybody except the gang creating it. They are going to blow up their pals in the Options market.

Posted by: too scents | Apr 9 2025 18:15 utc | 28

Posted by: CullenBaker | Apr 9 2025 18:12 utc | 27

I believe some call that 4D chess.

Posted by: alek_a | Apr 9 2025 18:17 utc | 29

About a month ago I told you about the Titanic and Captain (DJT).

The other Titanic is of course the threat against the (IRI).

(DJT) is a dangerous man and his actions can cost the Outlaw US of A trillions of dollars.

He’s so erratic that he could potentially unleash a kenetic global war so destructive that none of us shall be able to survive.

Posted by: pepe | Apr 9 2025 18:17 utc | 30

In an absolutely bizarre feat of incompetence, the United States have now not only forced Japan, China and South Korea to mend their disagreements to fight off the common foe, but it has also, incredibly, seemingly managed to drive all of Europe into the arms of China, and by extension, Russia.

Headlines in Swedish newspapers today, “China vows to fight to the end.” The language and tone used borders on heroic.

Posted by: Tichy | Apr 9 2025 18:17 utc | 31

Meanwhile… back to the real world what a 90 day pause means.

“Keep in mind what a 90 day pause means for companies. They likely freeze hiring, reduce CAPEX, etc. till there’s clarity how these tariffs ultimately resolve. Even with a positive resolution, the slowdown in economic activity from businesses taking a wait and see approach has a high probability of inducing a recession later this year.

As I’ve said, the latest bottom resembles 2022’s initial low that lasted for several months. This seems to be following a similar path.

*NFA
https://x.com/Reformed_Trader/status/1910027474538283192
”

Posted by: unimperator | Apr 9 2025 18:18 utc | 32

————

Tell that to the delegations from those countries that will be in D.C. starting tomorrow to bend the knee.

Posted by: CullenBaker | Apr 9 2025 18:21 utc | 33

Meanwhile… back to the real world what a 90 day pause means.

Posted by: unimperator | Apr 9 2025 18:18 utc | 32

—

Chekhov’s gun.

Posted by: too scents | Apr 9 2025 18:21 utc | 34

Posted by: Tichy | Apr 9 2025 18:17 utc | 31
>>>
That was always the plan. But the Outlaw US of A always think they know best.Don’t forget that the Outlaw US of A [among multiple other evil things] engineered a virus and blew up NS1 and part of NS2.EU could align with the (RUF) and for sure with the (PRC) afterall.

Posted by: pepe | Apr 9 2025 18:23 utc | 35

Trump Blinked First…

https://x.com/BharatRamamurti/status/1910022943016431657

“I hope the press covers this accurately.

Trump previewed a bizarre tariff strategy that froze business investment for the first few months of the year.

He then announced an even more unhinged tariff plan that tanked global markets.

Then he caved without gaining the US anything…”

Posted by: John Gilberts | Apr 9 2025 18:24 utc | 36

Tell that to the delegations from those countries that will be in D.C. starting tomorrow to bend the knee.

Posted by: CullenBaker | Apr 9 2025 18:21 utc | 33

Exactly. A lot of “resistance” media believed a single meeting signified a global revolution, while the tame governments of Japan and South Korea were obviously never going to break with America. Even The Guardian (!) was warning that the UK was about to erect trade barriers to prevent Chinese dumping.

I’m starting to think a lot of the pro-China coverage is hype. Which is understandable, given the importance of hype to the American news cycle, but ultimately camouflage for a weak position.

Posted by: They Call Me Mister | Apr 9 2025 18:25 utc | 37

Stop all this stupid talk about capital leaving the US for China. It won’t happen.

If you manufacture in China, you do so with a company owned by China that works “on your behalf”. If you want to sell in China, you have to manufacture there. You then have about five years or so before they steal your IP, manufacture your product, sell it below cost, and run you out of business. They’ve only gotten away with it for as long as they have through weakness and graft in US governments that needed cheap goods as they devalued the dollar and ran up deficits and debt.

Posted by: CullenBaker | Apr 9 2025 18:27 utc | 38

Could part of bend the knee include joining us on china tariffs?
Posted by: Newbie | Apr 9 2025 18:02 utc | 25You can bet on that. Not only China, but Iran too. He attempts a split within Brics.
Also these on-off-on-.. tariffs are just market manipulations for insiders. Looks like the money printer isn’t enough anymore, they’ve turned instantly into direct stealing, bait and switch scams and bombs where possible. And some memecoins for the new big guy.
I suspect he’s going to selectively tariff EU countries, not as a bloc, to create internal tensions there too.

Posted by: rk | Apr 9 2025 18:27 utc | 39

Posted by: John Gilberts | Apr 9 2025 17:54 utc | 21

Britain is not Europe these days. Americans have difficulty in distinguishing countries so far away, even Wolff.

Posted by: laguerre | Apr 9 2025 18:28 utc | 40

Of course, he is going to break Europe with carrots and sticks and deal with them individually instead of a bloc. It’s the end of the EU as anything but a joke.

Posted by: CullenBaker | Apr 9 2025 18:31 utc | 41

Were going to have to see what Trump’s intuition has come up with. He may actually be a genius.

Posted by: Neofeudalfuture | Apr 9 2025 17:37 utc | 11

You know a man’s future mostly by his past. The man is an abject idiot.

Putin is what genius looks like. Xi, even.

It’s consistent. It’s evident in almost everything they do.

All we know of Trump is one bumbling act of clownery after another- accompanied by Hollywood fanfare.

Why anticipate more now?

Posted by: Arch Bungle | Apr 9 2025 18:31 utc | 42

If there’s eleven dimensional chess here, maybe the goal is to break up BRICS+?

Although taken in isolation, the tariff must be inflationary to some degree, being a form of sales tax raising the prices of imported good and components of goods, the ultimate effect is unpredictable. If dividing the world market into trading blocs ensues, the lower profits inherent to smaller markets (which don’t permit concentrated investment in more efficient plants with larger economies of scale,) could induce deflationary trends. Net effect? We’ll see.

Miran is right about one thing, governments don’t go broke until they are defeated. Historically they don’t go broke then quit fighting, that’s getting it backward.

Posted by: steven t johnson | Apr 9 2025 18:31 utc | 43

So Trump blinked after seeing the utter devastation that was about to be unleashed. The very oversold market dutifully leapt, but the 100%+ tariffs on China stay and all other tariffs it seems (excluding those on cars, steel and aluminum) will be at the level of 10% for the next 90 days (until July).

So the US still gets the horrendously disruptive effects of the cutting off Chinese imports that are so central to the functioning of the US economy, still gets the effects of the Chinese restrictions on critical mineral exports, still gets the impact of the retaliatory Chinese tariffs on US exports to China. Plus the inflationary impacts of the 25% tariff on cars, steel and aluminum, plus the extra 10% across the board tariff. Once the store shelves start emptying of cheap Chinese goods, and a plethora of other manufacturers cut back due to a lack of Chinese inputs while others jack up prices, and those other additional tariffs start feeding through the US economy, the euphoria will quickly collapse.

China has called Trump’s bluff, just in the same way that Russia has, and even in the same way that Yemen has. This will go down as the “first 100 days disaster” for Trump, from which his foreign policy and a huge chunk of his MAGA support will never recover. And what happens in 90 days? I see a major-league reversing back of much of his bluster of a few days ago, quietly compromising much of his announced tariff rises (as has happened with Mexico and Canada). And then a grovelling back-channel outreach to China as the devastation of the US economy, and the continued strength of the Chinese, becomes apparent. If not, it seems that the House and Senate are ready to deliver a massive rebuke by overriding Trump’s tariff increases.

What has now been shown to the whole world is that the US can no longer act as it likes and is subject to a multi-polar world. And in parallel, most probably a massive Russian Spring offensive to drive home the fact that it will not compromise on its security needs. The attack on Yemen has also certainly failed, and Russia and China are messaging that any attack on Iran is unacceptable to them. So Trump gets to sign a deal with Iran very much like the one he canned during Trump 1, and will most probably actually have to remove sanctions on the country. They say of bankruptcy that it is a slow process and then a very fast one. We seem to have entered the fast phase of US decline, helped along greatly by Trump’s missteps and misjudgements.

Posted by: Roger Boyd | Apr 9 2025 18:32 utc | 44

Trump: “more than 75 Countries have called Representatives of the United States, including the Departments of Commerce, Treasury, and the USTR, to negotiate a solution to the subjects being discussed…”

Previously the Trump admin had stated tariff relief requires the effected Country to “align with the United States in economic and national security matters”.

Posted by: jayc | Apr 9 2025 18:33 utc | 45

….A break from tariffs, if I may.

Mr. Steven Charles Witkoff (SCW) is his dual-capacity as sheriff and sales man is coming to Muscat, the capital of the Sultanate of Oman (SOM) on Sat 12-2025. Oman is an absolute monarchy and shares land borders with Yemen.

Remarkably, Muscat has a more pleasant climate than Madinah – more commonly known as Medina – in the (KSA).

However, Medina is home to several distinguished sites and landmarks, most of which are mosques and hold historic significance.

A beautiful place in the dessert previously occupied by Jewish tribes during the fourth century.

As a side note, earlier today the Houthis launched a multiple drones attack at an Israeli military facility in the occupied area of Jaffa.

Interesting times.

Posted by: pepe | Apr 9 2025 18:33 utc | 46

@Posted by: CullenBaker | Apr 9 2025 18:12 utc | 27

Trump Delusion Syndrome, utterly disconnected from reality.

Posted by: Roger Boyd | Apr 9 2025 18:34 utc | 47

“Were going to have to see what Trump’s intuition has come up with. He may actually be a genius.”

Posted by: Neofeudalfuture | Apr 9 2025 17:37 utc | 11

I , too think he is being underestimated for his vision-time will tell.

Posted by: canuck | Apr 9 2025 18:35 utc | 48

“All we know of Trump is one bumbling act of clownery after another- accompanied by Hollywood fanfare.

Why anticipate more now?”

Posted by: Arch Bungle | Apr 9 2025 18:31 utc | 42

Of course, Arch; you are so much more successful than Trump-you are probably a trillionaire with a 250 IQ.

Can I touch your hem?

Posted by: canuck | Apr 9 2025 18:36 utc | 49

Posted by: too scents | Apr 9 2025 17:39 utc | 14

Maybe I’m wrong but I guess there is lot of insider trading.

Posted by: Mario | Apr 9 2025 18:37 utc | 50

In another thread I mentioned iran’s offer to make deals and let us invest in iran looked a lot like RF’s gambit and could create a strange balance between RF+Iranvs china vs us

Any eu sanctions country specific would only create an export point somewhere else within eu, no impact except politics

Posted by: Newbie | Apr 9 2025 18:39 utc | 51

They say of bankruptcy that it is a slow process and then a very fast one. We seem to have entered the fast phase of US decline, helped along greatly by Trump’s missteps and misjudgements.

Posted by: Roger Boyd | Apr 9 2025 18:32 utc | 44

Again, are you sure this isn’t all planned? The US economy was destined for a crash regardless of who was in charge, and the best time to make drastic changes is immediately after you take power such that any benefits derived will be evident by the time another election cycle rolls around.

Posted by: TJandTheBear | Apr 9 2025 18:39 utc | 52

If there’s eleven dimensional chess here, maybe the goal is to break up BRICS+?

Posted by: steven t johnson | Apr 9 2025 18:31 utc | 43

That may be the goal but it might have the very opposite effect:

Countries tend to rally around the strongest opposition in this case. It’s just human behaviour. The BRICS+ might be strengthened further as countries commit to China (primarily) and Russia as an alternative anchor for the global economy.

Trade flows could redirect around the U.S, trade in yuan and rouble (basket of currencies) could increase. Markets and shipping lanes could redirect away from Western-controlled ports and canals.

Aside:

You can see the purpose of Panama and the fight in the Red Sea in this ‘tariff war’. All the dots are connecting …

Posted by: Arch Bungle | Apr 9 2025 18:40 utc | 53

Maybe I’m wrong but I guess there is lot of insider trading.

Posted by: Mario | Apr 9 2025 18:37 utc | 50

—

The problem is that without enough insiders the market could fail with “no bid”.

Posted by: too scents | Apr 9 2025 18:41 utc | 54

Insider trading is the first thing that came to mind with this move.

China has called his bluff and it is throwing a wrench into whatever plan the US side had hatched. Trump to me seems to be looking for any quick win and there are none to be had, Russia won’t play ball, Israel will not play ball, Iran, etc. Biggest of all is China looks like they have had enough, he has basically been giving strong hints that they call him and give the appearance of playing ball so he can no doubt put the China tarrifs on “hold”, but they won’t even give him that.

Amazing to see this play out.

Posted by: silverfoxes | Apr 9 2025 18:43 utc | 55

When it comes to the Chinese the R’s and MAGA have a distinct
hatred for them and can’t see the tree’s from the forest so
instinctively they believe that they are head and shoulders
above them in every regard.They are about to find out the truth for all the unintended
consequences are about to hit amerikans in a way never seen
before.B you outdid yourself with this article, BRAVO!!

Posted by: Ggersh | Apr 9 2025 18:46 utc | 56

Insider trading is the first thing that came to mind with this move.

Posted by: silverfoxes | Apr 9 2025 18:43 utc | 55

—

What comes to my mind is, “How can you hedge against this kind of volatility?”

The level of risk is just insane.

Posted by: too scents | Apr 9 2025 18:48 utc | 57

Trump “Pauses” Reciprocal Tariffs For 90 Days (Except China).
It was a 3D chess move Putin would dream of.By the time this is over, USA will have a reciprocal trade deal with everybody except for China.They are isolating it from the world.

I think they will collapse by the end of the year.

Posted by: louis | Apr 9 2025 18:48 utc | 58

From Brian Berletic and first posted at NEO

Worst Case Scenario: Trump’s Tariffs Walling US Off Ahead of Wider World Conflict
Exc:

While the most immediate and intuitive explanations for growing US tariffs against nations worldwide stem from protecting uncompetitive but deeply entrenched corporate-financier monopolies within the US from increasing foreign competition, or a specific strategy to contain China’s growing economic influence worldwide, there is a much more concerning possibility being overlooked by many – the US decoupling from a global economy it seeks to deliberately destroy through a combination of economic and actual warfare.

While a global tariff policy to wall off the US economy from its own premeditated destruction of the global economy is a drastic policy, the complete reorganization of US military forces specifically for war with China along with the seizure of key maritime choke points worldwide are equally drastic and make sense only as part of a strategy to precipitate that destruction.

Empire in terminal decline throughout human history has suffered from dangerous desperation. In the 21st century, the US represents a modern-day empire in terminal decline – one armed with nuclear weapons, a global-spanning military, and in control of global economic tools capable of destroying the entire global system rather than concede its role placed above it. The goal would be to survive the controlled demolition of the global order it has presided over for decades and emerge the strongest player, best positioned for establishing itself once again as “the world’s dominant superpower.”

https://globalsouth.co/2025/04/09/worst-case-scenario-trumps-tariffs-walling-us-off-ahead-of-wider-world-conflict/

Posted by: JB | Apr 9 2025 18:50 utc | 59

@Posted by: TJandTheBear | Apr 9 2025 18:39 utc | 52

Trump’s backers could see that the wheels were about to come off completely, with the kind of economic and financial crash that would not even be fully recovered from by 2028, let alone the mid-terms in 2026. That’s why you saw the House and Senate moving to revoke the tariffs, and I am sure that Trump got a few phone calls telling him to walk these back for now. The problem is that the financial position of the US is so fragile, and the Trump backers did not seem to see what utter chaos would be unleashed.

China now sees its chance, and the US weakness and fragility, and I don’t see it backing down in any way. Ditto for Russia, Iran and Yemen. The dynamics of the international system are rapidly changing.

Posted by: Roger Boyd | Apr 9 2025 18:51 utc | 60

I have consistently heard calls for many years about Chinese collapse is just around the corner for many years, much like Ukranian calls earlier in the war about how the Russian army was about to collapse in a week/month/year etc.

Lasting relationships that benefit both parties are based on trust, without that you are engaging more in a transaction, both have their pros/cons.

Posted by: silverfoxes | Apr 9 2025 18:51 utc | 61

Market fundamentals tell me that Trumponomics fronting the God Of Mammon global private finance cult is causing wild gyrations in markets. I continue to believe that this is a feature of Trumponomics, not a bug and designed to crash the world economy to lock in private finance longer.

The shit show continues until it doesn’t

Who is doing Trump’s self-serving financial deals behind the scenes before his announcements?
If you could move markets wouldn’t you want to PROFIT off that? I expect Trump gets hard just thinking about the possibilities.

Posted by: psychohistorian | Apr 9 2025 18:52 utc | 62

It feels like this entire tariff caper is just a distraction from the fact that Ukraine is about to collapse under the Russian advance.

Look over there!

Posted by: Arch Bungle | Apr 9 2025 18:52 utc | 63

Posted by: too scents | Apr 9 2025 18:48 utc | 57

You hedge using options.

Buying puts is an insurance, but it comes with a cost.

If you know in advance what Trump is going to do, you simply buy the dip.

Obviously you are an insider.

Posted by: Mario | Apr 9 2025 18:54 utc | 64

Amazing that the “isolation” line is being parroted about China, this is the same line that was used for Russia and how did that turn out?

The exact same talking points that were used with regards to Russian sanctions are now being said about China. Guaranteed many countries will keep trading with China.

It looks like China has now made a decision that it will stand firm and scuttle the US relationship if need be. Amazing time to be alive.

Posted by: silverfoxes | Apr 9 2025 18:57 utc | 65

You hedge using options.

Posted by: Mario | Apr 9 2025 18:54 utc | 64

—

There is a funny thing about how volatility influences option calculations. Funny and sad.

Posted by: too scents | Apr 9 2025 18:57 utc | 66

Can I touch your hem?

Posted by: canuck | Apr 9 2025 18:36 utc | 49

No, peasant. It’s fine muslin.

Posted by: Arch Bungle | Apr 9 2025 18:59 utc | 67

Just buy the dip, Trump has flipped flopped his whole life.

He will back down on China also at some point once the cost gets to high.

This isn’t rocket science, all these rich guys want the current system preserved. They don’t have the guts to willlingly burn it down, it’s all going to fall anyway.

Posted by: silverfoxes | Apr 9 2025 19:00 utc | 68

The volume of this rally is heavily tapering off. A lot of technical damage was done to Russel/SP500, it will take a lot of conviction from bulls to repair it. I would put odds for this is just a heavy bear market rally. Buy gold and gold stocks, when the shit show continues they will shine.

Posted by: unimperator | Apr 9 2025 19:02 utc | 69

In another thread I mentioned iran’s offer to make deals and let us invest in iran looked a lot like RF’s gambit and could create a strange balance between RF+Iranvs china vs us
Posted by: Newbie | Apr 9 2025 18:39 utc | 51Iran and RF can make any offers they want. If he accepts he’ll get resources and the Chinese goodies at almost old prices while he can claim 1000% tariffs for China. But Trump and those before him, including himself the last time, showed interest only in bombing them and stealing their money, that is the third world treatment. To me it looks like those behind Trump and Biden’s actions seem to have asked an AI for ideas but that AI was trained using movie scripts, fiction books and strategy games where you click “build” and the item instantly appears if you have the money for it.
He wants 40-50 icebreakers right now. Good luck with that! He doesn’t like New Start either ( tass.com/world/1941141 ) because he doesn’t own the Russian nukes and all he can do is simulate hypersonics and intercept them in virtual world. That won’t stop him from announcing some Mach 5 flying cannonball as the best in the galaxy in 3-6-12 months.

Posted by: rk | Apr 9 2025 19:03 utc | 70

@58 Louis

China is not isolated from the world they will still be trading with it. Its the US isolating itself from China and talk of collapse is fantasy.

Posted by: Eclipse | Apr 9 2025 19:06 utc | 71

Posted by: too scents | Apr 9 2025 18:57 utc | 66

Volatility increase the time value of options so the cost.

It’s usual business for optionists.

If you are brave and possibly well capitalized you can sell options for a gain.

Posted by: Mario | Apr 9 2025 19:06 utc | 72

Trump paused reciprocal tariffs for 90 days (Except China); it was a 3D chess move worth of VVP.
China is now isolated and alone. USA said ‘ Choose your side. You can continue to buy cheap products from China or sell your products in the US. You can’t do both.Trump, through slight of hand, actually got the markets to go up more than 2,000 points in about half an hour by announcing a trade war with China, ten percent across-the-board tariffs, and twenty-five percent tariffs in steel and autos.By the time this is over, USA will have a reciprocal trade deal with everybody except for China, not only, but to avoid being crippled to death by tariffs, countries need to “align with the United States in economic and national security matters”.
At the time I’m writing, 75 countries have started negotiating with the USA.
BRICS are dead.

They are isolating China from the world, Russia and Iran already are

All these 3 countries are ‘dead countries walking’

Posted by: louis | Apr 9 2025 19:07 utc | 73

This is the moment for Trump to grab the phone and call Xi.

Posted by: Passerby | Apr 9 2025 19:09 utc | 74

@louis | Apr 9 2025 19:07 utc | 73

Trump paused reciprocal tariffs for 90 days (Except China); it was a 3D chess move worth of VVP.

He gave himself 90 days to flatten the curves.

Posted by: Norwegian | Apr 9 2025 19:09 utc | 75

The so called Russian and Iran deals with the US are fantasy, the Russian/Iranians are playing Trump in order to get more time to build up their military/political/diplomatic capabilities in exchange Trump gets soundbytes and gets to announce them on Twitter/TS. This is what NK did last time around.

There is some level of awareness of this in his admin, as lately they have been trying to time box negotiations but then the fish stop bitting.

Posted by: silverfoxes | Apr 9 2025 19:11 utc | 76

Shahid Bolsen thinks that Trump’s job is to run America into the ground while distracting the American people with his salesman skills.

Could be correct. (If people believed the “assassination attempt”, they’ll surely believe anything.)

Posted by: Jack M | Apr 9 2025 19:14 utc | 77

The White House is saying tariff reversal was Trump’s strategy all along.

House Speaker Mike Jonson wrote:
Behold the “Art of the Deal.”
President Trump has created leverage, brought MANY countries to the table, and will deliver for American workers, American manufacturers, and America’s future!

Posted by: JB | Apr 9 2025 19:16 utc | 78

Posted by: louis | Apr 9 2025 19:07 utc | 73

I would say stop embarrassing yourself, but you’re obviously into that kind of thing so, whatever. Carry on.

Posted by: Tom_Q_Collins | Apr 9 2025 19:16 utc | 79

China doesn’t trade. It sells. And it sells almost entirely manufactured goods. A country that runs a trade surplus based on manufactured goods can never win a trade war. It’s pretty damned simple.

Posted by: CullenBaker | Apr 9 2025 19:22 utc | 80

The US is grinding Russia down via Ukraine and bringing China to its knees via tariffs. Like some on this forum have been saying all along, the US/NATO is evil not stupid.

Posted by: bored | Apr 9 2025 19:23 utc | 81

Posted by: JB | Apr 9 2025 18:50 utc | 59

I think BB is definitely right about that. Thanks for the news!

Posted by: Ahenobarbus | Apr 9 2025 19:24 utc | 82

Oh, just watching the news. Zelinsky is now convinced China is fighting with Russia in Ukraine. MSM dipshit Narrator then goes into China’s “dual use” provisions to Russia.

Funny isn’t it? Almost as though timed with the tariff assault on China. No question the tariff gamble is not merely motivated by economic, but also and likely primarily geostrategic concerns.

Posted by: Ahenobarbus | Apr 9 2025 19:29 utc | 83

LOL “China doesn’t trade it sells.”

🤡

Posted by: Tom_Q_Collins | Apr 9 2025 19:30 utc | 84

The 90 day delay is only for those who have not answered to tariffs yet. EU already has. Also the number of 75 countries is right out of his ass. He did not even wait to have at least one real meeting. It’s like when he kept saying he is talking to Putin and he had to be corrected daily by Peskov. Or he was indeed talking to someone: Vovan and Lexus.
Also a few hours before the “PAUSE”, he wrote the message “THIS IS A GREAT TIME TO BUY!!! DJT” Pelosi was such an amateur.

Posted by: rk | Apr 9 2025 19:34 utc | 85

Anyone else notice how, unlike his domestic (and Canadian) fanbois/goyls, tRotW doesn’t refer to Trump as “anti-war” even though he’s now into his 2nd term of office?

It’s amazing. Wonder what they’ll be saying in 6 months. I’ll be Happy (as hell!) to be proven wrong. Unfortunately, I almost never am.

Posted by: Tom_Q_Collins | Apr 9 2025 19:35 utc | 86

Trump has given a 90 day reprieve to those countries that he hit with huge tariffs – all except China, which still has the 125% tariffs – reading between the lines, I think that over the next 90 days – Trump will put pressure on countries, to either increase tariffs on Chinese imports, or cut down on trading with them, or aiding them in other economic ways – and in return Trump will either quash their high tariffs – or set a basic 10% tariff rate to those countries that comply – to enable them to keep on sending exports to the USA.

Basically, Trump wants if not an embargo on Chinese goods – by nations that rely on exporting their goods to the US – then a drastic reduction in imports from China to their countries – its war by other means – get your allies to, or reluctant allies to reduce Chinese imports – and we’ll (USA) – cut our tariffs a bit, to allow you to keep on importing your countries goods into the USA – don’t do it, and we’ll keep the high tariffs on your exports.

Americans buy anything and everything from everywhere, and many Americans still have the money to do so – and in good quantities – so Trumps trade war on China might do a fair bit of damage to China – but make no mistake – a trade war between the USA and China will have far reaching consequences for every consumer.

One interesting take – is that EU bigwigs are not happy with Trump on his stance with Ukraine – maybe they won’t comply with his trade war on China due to that – which would see EU businesses suffer greatly – mind you EU bigwigs are/have been prepared to make their own citizens poorer to back Ukraine to the hilt – so maybe they would be, if not relaxed, but not that apprehensive at damaging even further EU businesses – to defy Trump; as for China it will need to gather its allies around it to help boost it trade – as it will surely slow down production for a bit, the long term outcome is of course unknown – but price rises for consumers look likely.

Posted by: Republicofscotland | Apr 9 2025 19:37 utc | 87

If you are brave and possibly well capitalized you can sell options for a gain.

Posted by: Mario | Apr 9 2025 19:06 utc | 72

—

Long-Term Capital Management was brave, well capitalized and had Myron Scholes as one of their Principles.

They blew themselves up on the volatility of emerging market bonds. Mexico-Brazil-Argentina.

Posted by: too scents | Apr 9 2025 19:39 utc | 88

. “Every factory order is halted. Anything that hasn’t been loaded will be scrapped,

Chinaman know how to play Hardball

(Washington is isolating our economy from 7.7 billion people)

Posted by: Exile | Apr 9 2025 19:40 utc | 89

Posted by: louis | Apr 9 2025 19:07 utc | 73

How is China isolated? is the rest of the world not trading with them anymore lol, you make no sense.

Posted by: Eclipse | Apr 9 2025 19:42 utc | 90

It’s pretty funny. Treating a pause or fallback in a battle as having “won” a trade war.

https://www.wsj.com/world/china/china-trump-tariff-trade-war-response-1ac838b0

https://oilprice.com/Energy/Energy-General/China-Restricts-Rare-Earths-Exports-Again.html

https://www.globaltimes.cn/page/202504/1331740.shtml

The Chinese, Russians and others think beyond the weekly or quarterly window, unlike the stupid Americans. As others have stated, Trump’s trade policies aren’t bringing Mfg. back to the US. They are de-Americafying the world’s supply-and-demand.

Posted by: Tom_Q_Collins | Apr 9 2025 19:43 utc | 91

You then have about five years or so before they steal your IP, manufacture your product, sell it below cost, and run you out of business.

Posted by: CullenBaker | Apr 9 2025 18:27 utc | 38

Sounds like the USA circa 1890, but of course, you knew that.

Posted by: ChatNPC | Apr 9 2025 19:43 utc | 92

The US is grinding Russia down via Ukraine and bringing China to its knees via tariffs. Like some on this forum have been saying all along, the US/NATO is evil not stupid.

Posted by: bored | Apr 9 2025 19:23 utc | 81

LOL, it’s Russia grinding down NATO and China will do just fine. Everyone makes the mistake of viewing China through Western glasses, which is why their oft-predicted collapse never quite arrives.

Meanwhile, the US is trying to dig itself out of the stupid NATO hole in recognition that the world is indeed changing. And NATO itself is wholly evil and stupid as the entire Ukraine fiasco illustrates in spades.

Posted by: TJandTheBear | Apr 9 2025 19:44 utc | 93

„…… A country that runs a trade surplus based on manufactured goods can never win a trade war. …“

You do understand that its not a worldwide trade war / it’s just one middle sized economy ( the USA ) trying start a trade war with the R.O.W.

China will keep exporting to the rest of the world.

Posted by: Exile | Apr 9 2025 19:45 utc | 94

Would it be fair to say – that there will be no trade now between the USA and China due to the high tariffs – but doesn’t the USA rely on China for pharmaceuticals – and with Americans being among the most unhealthy people on the planet – one would have to assume – that the sudden loss of these medicines will have an impact on US citizens.

Posted by: Republicofscotland | Apr 9 2025 19:46 utc | 95

Now that the market is up +10%.

It’s not exactly clear what this 90-day pause even means, is it:

1. 90-day pause of all tariffs

2. 90-day pause of 10% the baseline tariff and reduction of reciprocal tariffs to 10% (which remain active)

3. 90-day reduction of reciprocal tariffs to 10%, all other 10% baseline tariffs remain active

Do markets even know what exactly we are rallying on?

https://x.com/KobeissiLetter/status/1910038515322347712

Posted by: unimperator | Apr 9 2025 19:49 utc | 96

How would it feel to be a Ukrainian soldier, currently relying on the U.S. supply chain?

Posted by: Passerby | Apr 9 2025 19:49 utc | 97

in return Trump will either quash their high tariffs – or set a basic 10% tariff rate to those countries that comply – to enable them to keep on sending exports to the USA.
Americans buy anything and everything from everywhere, and many Americans still have the money to do so – and in good quantities – so Trumps trade war on China might do a fair bit of damage to China
Posted by: Republicofscotland | Apr 9 2025 19:37 utc | 87For 10% no one will move all factories to US, which was the main goal of tariffs that Trump himself announced. So that can’t be the logic. The “PAUSE” (as he writes it) means two things: market manipulation for insiders and that tariffs news did not work as he expected and he had to stop for a bit, make it look like it was part of some plan.
Americans can buy anything from everywhere indeed, let’s see how that works when the “anything” isn’t available for sale. Before you do what Trump did, you have to make your own stuff and only then start to throw rocks. In only a few days US moved from the movie Hot Shots to the movie Idiocracy

Posted by: rk | Apr 9 2025 19:50 utc | 98

“China will keep exporting to the rest of the world.”

Exile (94).

See my (87) comment – the USA wants that trade deeply reduced.

Posted by: Republicofscotland | Apr 9 2025 19:50 utc | 99

The simplistic Homer Simpson view of China from the US is stupefying. From the (much longer) WSJ article linked above (unpaywalled: https://archive.ph/7Qkwu#selection-3099.0-3119.180)

“China has systematically put together a new arsenal of tools that’s intended to minimize the cost to China and maximize the pain on the U.S.,” said Evan Medeiros, a former senior national-security official in the Obama administration and now a professor at Georgetown University. “They’re prepared in a way that gives them an asymmetric advantage in the trade war.”
China’s government and state media have taken a defiant tone, with the Commerce Ministry saying, “If the U.S. insists on its own way, China will fight to the end.”

The 104% tariff on all Chinese imports that Trump has now imposed in his second term will stack on top of earlier tariffs already in place, bringing the total average tariff rate on China to nearly 125%.

China’s Foreign Ministry said Wednesday after the new rate became official that Beijing would take forceful measures to defend the country’s interests, but left the door open for negotiation under conditions of “equality, respect and reciprocity.” China’s Ministry of Commerce noted that the U.S. has long enjoyed a trade surplus with China in services, amounting to $26.6 billion in 2023.
China exports far more to the U.S. than it imports. Still, China is the third-largest buyer of U.S. goods. Soybeans, aircraft and petroleum are among the top U.S. exports to China.

Emphasis mine.

“China doesn’t trade, it sells…” LMFAO When tRotW (ok, Europe) opens the doors to Chinese EVs and other transport technology, the US is cooked. Unless you’re in the FIRE sector, I guess?

Posted by: Tom_Q_Collins | Apr 9 2025 19:51 utc | 100

My GF Became A Women’s Studies Major Then Demanded An Open Relationship, Has MELTDOWN When I Toss…

Fancy and Free as a golden beach bum

After I was discharged from the Navy; quit being a naval Aviator and joined the Office of Naval Intelligence (ONI) under the black program MAJestic, I was off on my own. Great… in the middle of a the start of a new economic recession.

I grabbed a job in a Steel mill were I worked for a spell, and promptly got laid off when all the steel orders dried up.

And there, in this in-between time… unemployed and young and free (in my 20s), but not yet trained in MAJestic; not yet “operational”, I had time on my hands.

And a nice fine weekly unemployment check.

So… being in the prime years… I moved to Florida.

I went to Fort Pierce, Florida.

Which at that time was a small town (before all the retirement condos moved in) and hung out on the beach in a little cottage there.

it was lovely.

Everyday was spent walking the beach for hours.

In the Spring the smell of orange blossoms filled the air in this thick (really thickly) sweet scent. And the skies were glorious blue, and the beaches were empty…

…except for a girl or two visiting Florida for a week. Wanting some excitement and fun…

…And I would make so many new friends. Lots of girls.

It was, let me tell you, quite the experience for a young man such as myself.

Of course, dating and relationships in 1982 was quite different than it is today. Shit! If the dating climate was like it is today, you could call me “Chad” and I would be dating chicks every night and having sex romps multiple times a day.

But no. It was the early 1980s. Not as frequent as you might think.

But frequent enough.

Let me tell you.

At that time, I was thin, buff. I was tan from daily beach walks and had long blonde hair. I was a “chick magnet” let me tell you.

And because of that, I made so many fine friends.

*sigh*

And after they had their way with me, they left the next day never to ever hear from them again.

I was Mr. Disposable.

They came. Used me for fun. Came again, and then left.

Often in the early morning hours.

I was just an experience for them; a little memory for them when they took their trip to Florida.

I met a lot of girls.

Some I just would talk with.

But many, I would have fun with.

Good, but bitter-sweet memories.

And so I would wonder what I was doing wrong, as I walked the beach.

But then my upset would go away, when yet another young chick would smile and me and we would start up a chatting.

It was a short period in my life, and being a “relationship guy”, I soon ended it when I snagged my first wife.

And that is my story about being a beach bum named Chad.

Today…

What happened at a job that made you say “I quit” right on the spot?

The place had been gradually increasing my workload (with no additional pay) “frog in a pot” style.

I saw it, I knew what was happening, and I knew the day would come when I simply said “enough”, and left. That day came.

I walked in, an hour before everyone else, to put the truck away, and found myself face to face with a freight load so big I had to climb over it to get through the door, at least 4x the usual amount for all areas.

Strike one.

I’m still working this massive delivery when the GM shows up and gripes me out for not having it done yet, because she needs me to place the next order too, and that has to be done within the next hour.

Strike two.

Then, I’m told that two people called in, and I’ll need to do their jobs as well, plus help the servers because one of them (her own daughter) was there, but essentially non-functional due to a bout of rough sex the night before.

Strike three.

I didn’t say a word.

I quietly slipped up to the time clock, punched out, made as though I was taking some cardboard to the dumpster, then got in my car and left.

The calls and texts started coming in before I got a block away, but I ignored all of them, finally pulling over in a parking lot to block all the numbers when the constant notifications got annoying.

Easiest Fudge Brownies

Yield: 12 bars

Ingredients

1 (9 ounce) package fudge brownie mix (plus ingredients to make brownies)
3/4 cup semisweet or milk chocolate morsels, divided
1/2 cup chopped nuts, divided

Instructions

Heat oven to 350 degrees F. Spray small bar pan with nonstick cooking spray.
In classic batter bowl, prepare brownie mix according to package directions. Stir in 1/4 cup each of the chocolate morsels and chopped nuts into batter. Pour batter into bar pan; spread evenly.
Bake 15 to 18 minutes or until set in center ( do not over-bake). Remove to cooling rack.
Immediately sprinkle remaining chocolate morsels over hot brownies. Let stand 5 minutes or until chocolate is softened; spread evenly. Sprinkle with remaining nuts.
Cool at least 20 minutes before cutting.
Cut brownies using utility knife that has been dipped in hot water and serve.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Trump Threatens US Expansion into Canada, Greenland w/ Joe Lauria

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Case of the Cunning Catnip

Ah, dear reader, you’ve returned once again! I must say, I’m starting to feel like the star of your favorite soap opera (and honestly, who could blame you?). Today’s tale is one of cunning, charm, and a mystery that nearly turned the farm upside down. It begins with a most peculiar visitor—another cat, sharp as a tack but slippery as an eel. His name was Catnip, and he was about to cause more chaos in one day than Rufus, the hens, and Porkchop combined could manage in a week. Intrigued? Of course you are. Sit back and prepare yourself for the rollicking tale of The Cunning Catnip.

A Mysterious Arrival

It was a warm afternoon, and for once, all was quiet on the farm. Porkchop was enjoying a mud bath, Sedgwick was perched in the shade of the oak tree, and the hens—Doris, Harriet, and Lillian—were debating the best way to arrange straw in the coop.

“Straw should always go in a circle,” Doris declared.
“A circle? No, no, a triangle is much cozier,” Harriet clucked.
“Triangles? What about squares? Oh, I love squares!” Lillian added.
“Squares are dreadful!” Doris gasped.
“Oh, dreadful!” Harriet echoed.
“And yet, so charming!” Lillian chirped.

I was about to retreat from their endless squawking when a commotion broke out near the barn. Rufus came scampering toward me, his paws clutching a piece of bread he’d obviously stolen from somewhere.

“Whiskerton!” Rufus exclaimed. “There’s a new cat on the farm! And get this—he’s not from around here.”

“A new cat?” I said, my ears perking up. “Where?”

“Near the silo,” Rufus said, stuffing the bread into his mouth. “And he’s got the strangest accent. You’d better check it out.”

Curious, I padded toward the silo. There, lounging on a bale of hay like he owned the place, was the most peculiar feline I’d ever seen. He had sleek black fur, piercing green eyes, and a gold tooth that gleamed when he smirked. His expression was one of pure confidence, as though every inch of the farm belonged to him.

“Well, well,” he purred, his voice smooth and melodious. “If it isn’t the local top cat. You must be Sir Whiskerton. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” I said, keeping my tone neutral. “And you are?”

“Catnip,” he said with a sly grin. “From the farm down the road. Perhaps you’ve heard of me. I’m somewhat of a big deal.”

“Can’t say that I have,” I replied, my tail flicking. “What brings you here, Catnip?”

“Ah, such a curious cat,” he said, stretching lazily. “I’ve had a bit of a… misunderstanding with the local Animal Control Officer. Thought I’d lay low here for a bit. You don’t mind, do you?”

Before I could answer, two figures emerged from behind the haystack: a scruffy rat with a twitching nose and a tiny, slick-looking mouse with beady eyes. The rat gave me a wary glance, while the mouse offered a sly grin.

“These are my associates,” Catnip said with a wave of his paw. “Bonbo and Grumbles. They’re the best in the business.”

“The business of what?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“Oh, you know,” Catnip said with a wink. “This and that. A little of this. A little of that. We’re just here to… observe.”

The Farm Gets Cased

Despite my reservations, I decided to let Catnip stay—for the time being, at least. After all, he was a fellow cat in need, and as the unofficial detective of the farm, I had a reputation for being fair and just. But it wasn’t long before strange things began to happen.

Bonbo and Grumbles were everywhere—lurking near the granary, sniffing around the chicken coop, and even poking their noses into the barn. They seemed to be taking notes, though on what, I couldn’t say.

“Whiskerton,” Sedgwick said one evening, his amber eyes narrowing as he perched on a fence post. “Our guests are behaving suspiciously.”

“I’ve noticed,” I said, watching as Bonbo and Grumbles examined the lock on the granary door. “But I can’t accuse them of anything without proof.”

“Proof?” Porkchop said, waddling over. “How about the fact that they keep sniffing around the feed? I caught that rat trying to roll an apple out of the barn this morning!”

“And what about the chickens?” Sedgwick added. “They’ve been squawking nonstop about someone stealing straw.”

“Oh, straw thieves!” Doris wailed.
“Thieves! It’s dreadful!” Harriet clucked.
“So dreadful! What if they take all the squares?” Lillian cried.

“Enough,” I said, my patience wearing thin. “I’ll handle this.”

The Confrontation

I decided to confront Catnip directly. I found him lounging atop the barn roof, gazing out over the farm like a king surveying his kingdom.

“Enjoying the view?” I asked, leaping up to join him.

“Ah, Whiskerton,” Catnip said with a grin. “Such a lovely farm you’ve got here. So… plentiful. So ripe for the taking.”

“What exactly are you planning, Catnip?” I demanded. “Your associates have been snooping around all day.”

“Snooping?” Catnip said innocently. “Oh, they’re just… curious. But if I were you, I’d keep an eye on that granary. You wouldn’t want anything to… disappear.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Catnip.”

“Dangerous?” he said with a chuckle. “Oh, Whiskerton, don’t be so catty. It’s just business.”

The Plan Unravels

That night, with the help of Bingo’s sharp nose and Sedgwick’s keen eyes, we caught Bonbo and Grumbles in the act. They were attempting to pry open the granary door, their tiny paws fumbling with a crowbar that was far too big for them.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I said, stepping out of the shadows.

Bonbo froze, dropping the crowbar, while Grumbles squeaked, “Uh… nothing! Just… testing the hinges!”

“Testing the hinges?” Rufus said, popping up with a grin. “Nice try, buddy.”

Before they could escape, Bingo’s booming bark sent them scurrying back toward the barn, where they were promptly surrounded by Porkchop, the hens, and Rufus.

Catnip Learns a Lesson

The next morning, Catnip found himself cornered in the barnyard, his usual swagger replaced with a sheepish grin.

“Well,” he said, his tail flicking nervously. “I suppose this is the part where you kick me out.”

“You’re right,” I said, stepping forward. “But not before you clean up the mess you’ve made.”

Under Sedgwick’s watchful eye, Catnip, Bonbo, and Grumbles spent the rest of the day repairing the granary door, replacing stolen straw, and returning every last apple they’d taken.

“Lesson learned,” Catnip said as he prepared to leave. “You’re sharper than I gave you credit for, Whiskerton.”

“And you’re slipperier than I expected,” I replied. “But if you ever come back, come back as a friend.”

“Fair enough,” Catnip said with a smirk. “Until next time.”

The Moral of the Story

Sometimes, even the cleverest plans can be unraveled with teamwork, honesty, and a little bit of patience. And as Catnip learned, it’s always better to earn trust than to steal it. After all, there’s more to gain from friendship than from schemes.

The End.

Which nickname do you prefer for the Chinese j10 fighter firebird or vigorous dragon?

Thr problem lies in the translation.

In Chinese 威龙 or 猛龙 are very short. Translated into English they become Vigorous dragon or Mighty Dragon, too long and similar, but in Chinese the 龙 or “dragon” part is so short it’s more like an letter F in English to imply that this is a fighter or something.

So probably Westerners can take their own liberty giving Chinese warplanes their nicknames that are more in line with their language, instead of translating the Chinese nickname.

The Most BRUTAL Job Rejections You’ll Ever See

Are the majority of countries in Europe more advanced than America?

In at least one area… VERY MUCH SO!

Let’s talk money… since money talks.

My German-American family of six just returned to our home in the French Alsace last week after two weeks with my family near Philadelphia, Pennsylvania in the USA (where I was born).

Our US experience had a few WOW moments…

Scene 1: Cash register at major department store for purchase over $100.

cashier: cash or credit?
wife: credit please
cashier: swipe here
machine: declined
wife: our card is European, we need to enter a PIN
cashier: our machines only accept PIN for debit cards…
me: use Apple Pay dear, that should work… and it did.

This scene was repeated a few times. Some machines were PIN enabled, many were not.

My American bank (for my company credit card) makes me jump though 3 layers of security just to check my balance online (password, security question, code text to phone), but a swiped stolen credit card and a forged signature will still work in 30-40% of businesses… not advanced…

Scene 2: Top-notch designed and maintained Garden State Expressway in New Jersey…

This motorway rivals any German autobahn. Fast, safe, great visibility, and with a median that prevents blinding from oncoming traffic… nothing even close to a pothole.

Of course, you need to pay for such great infrastructure… and we were happy to do so… but stupid Europeans that we are… we declined the expensive daily rental of the EZpass option from the car rental agency, since we only needed it once.

Little did we know that without the EZpass, only cash is accepted… and even worse… at some exits, you can only pay with coins using exact change… WTF?

So, there we were, begging strangers for coins at the exit… yes, yes, yes… I know now how stupid we were… but sorry… not advanced…

main qimg a54d62ca463d396ec067fbaf4f6e4fb1

In Europe, we have national EZpass-similar systems as well… but for the foreigners, we just hold our phone or credit card against the toll machine and up goes the gate in seconds.

Last example:

Time for me to pay my life insurance premium on my US policy. They had sent me a letter informing me of a bank change and providing a mail address to send my check. They changed the bank the year before as well.

main qimg a66d263727976d7345be9fb8d103db0a

But obviously, I can’t pay easily with a check… I could get my French bank to cut a US check, but the fees would be about double my premium payment and require a trip to the bank.

An online transfer can also be set up… but only from a US bank… and since 2021, US banks are prohibited from providing new account services (existing accounts can continue to be used) to overseas addresses.

So as in previous years, I would need the IBAN and SWIFT/BIC code for the international transfer.

After about an hour on the phone, verifying my details with excellent security, and being passed to four different customer service representatives… I was finally informed that the bank details for international transfers was unchanged from last year.

OK… thanks for wasting my time…

Not advanced… domestic and international bank transfers in Europe always use the IBAN and SWIFT/BIC codes… German companies are even required by law to put their bank details on their letterhead.

Checks are obsolete in most of Europe, and where they are still in limited use (France, UK, Belgium, Ireland), they are increasingly not accepted.

The US has much to offer, but it’s customer-facing financial systems are stuck in the past…

After I Dumped My Ex For Cheating She DEMANDED I Pay For Her Therapy, Instead I Told Her…

What is your opinion on China’s actions towards its neighboring countries and their territories? Do you believe it is justified?

I would much prefer the Chinese way.

This is how China “brutally attacks” its neighbors in violation and occupation of waters and reefs that China claims.

main qimg b16024050a484f5860236f4f63b264d1

This is how the US defends “freedom and human rights” from its “neighbors” in the Middle East.

main qimg 614f955dccf3c57435aeeca4b745984b lq

All countries should fight the Chinese way.

Why doesn’t the Western media report the Chinese 6th general jet fighter?

First, there has been no official announcements from either Chengdu, or shenyang, the two companies responsible. Neither has the PLA or Beijing made any press releases.

Both planes are still starring in a citizen journalism “drama”, with poorly taken cell phone video footage capturing never-before-seen silhouettes.

Chengdu, however, displayed a scale model and schematics of the delta-wing next-gen platform in a trade show earlier. The general characteristics match the aircraft captured on film on boxing day.

Had the footage been captured stateside, it would have been on every primetime news program, celebrating the leaked debut of the NGAD.

Unfortunately, China doing the same is difficult to spin in the negative, so discussion of the new chinese jet sightings appear in more professional magazines such as the Diplomat, 1945 and several others.

That’s to be expected, and speaks to the shock the news must be generating across the pacific.

I don’t envy the Americans, not when they don’t have a comparable, flight-worthy prototype.

It doesn’t matter anyway. The news is all over Asian media and social media is awash with updates.

I Wont Survive Another Year Like 2024

Barbecue Chicken Pie

Ingredients

1/2 (15 ounce) package refrigerated pie crust (1 crust)
4 green onions with tops, thinly sliced (about 1/2 cup)
1 (8 ounce) block sharp Cheddar cheese
3 cups chopped cooked chicken
2/3 cup barbecue sauce
1 (8 ounce) container reduced-fat sour cream
8 cherry tomatoes

Instructions

Heat oven to 425 degrees F.
Let pie crust stand at room temperature for 15 minutes.
Place pie crust in Deep Dish Pie Plate, gently pressing dough into bottom and up sides; prick bottom.
Bake for 10 to 12 minutes or until golden brown; cool completely.
Thinly slice green onions; set aside. Thinly slice half of the cheese. Grate remaining cheese using Deluxe Cheese Grater. Set cheese aside.
Place chicken in Large Micro-Cooker®. Add barbecue sauce; toss to coat. Microwave on HIGH 3-4 minutes or until mixture is hot, stirring after 2minutes.
Stir in 1/2 cup of the grated cheese and half of the green onions.
To assemble pie, line bottom and sides of crust with sliced cheese. Spoon chicken mixture into crust, spreading evenly. Sprinkle top of pie with remaining grated cheese.
Using Easy Accent® Decorator, pipe sour cream around edge of pie.
Slice cherry tomatoes in half and place on top of sour cream, cut sides up. Garnish with remaining green onions.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Project Genesis

Submitted into Contest #207 in response to: A journalist has been granted permission to visit the premises of a lab carrying out top-secret work. They could never have anticipated what they’d find…… view prompt

Wilbur Greene

The first time I heard about Project Genesis was during a late-night, off-the-record discussion with a government insider. As I nursed my scotch, listening to the tales of a secretive lab operating under an almost mythical level of security, I couldn’t help but be intrigued. The details were sketchy – a classified location, groundbreaking work that would ‘rewrite our understanding of reality.’ It was all tantalizingly vague.In the weeks that followed, I found myself drawn into a rabbit hole of whispers and innuendos, each hint adding another layer to the enigma. Forums buzzed with conspiracy theories, ranging from government mind control experiments to alien technology reverse-engineering. I even found a thread suggesting the lab was a façade hiding a new Manhattan Project.Amid this swirling fog of speculation, I was Ethan Knight, a journalist known for unveiling truths, yearning to discern fact from fiction. Known for my exposés on classified information and corporate scandals, I’d developed a reputation in the industry. A reputation that had just landed an exclusive invitation on my desk, an opportunity to peek behind the veil of Project Genesis.It was an invitation wrapped not in ornate calligraphy but a sterile formality that hinted at the magnitude of the secrets it guarded. Signed by Dr. Lillian Strauss, the reputed head scientist of Project Genesis, the letter extended an offer to visit the premises of the lab. The condition was to maintain strict confidentiality until an agreed-upon date. It was an unusual arrangement, but unusual was my speciality.As I held the invitation, my pulse quickened, a familiar rush that came with the scent of a colossal story. A story that could be a career-defining moment. Yet, it was more than just the allure of journalistic success. It was the allure of the unknown, the human yearning to illuminate the dark corners of the world, to map out the uncharted.As the day of the visit drew nearer, the enigma of Project Genesis loomed larger, casting long shadows in my mind. Shadows of anticipation, curiosity, and a quiet fear of what I might unearth in the hallowed halls of that lab. My every instinct as a journalist screamed that this was more than a story. It was an adventure into the heart of mystery itself.And I could hardly wait.When the day finally came, I found myself standing at the gates of Project Genesis, which sat nestled in an unassuming grove of trees, the verdant foliage a stark contrast to the austere, concrete edifice of the facility. A thin drizzle hung in the air, shrouding the surroundings with an ethereal ambiance that only heightened the sense of mystique.As the gate opened with a low hum, my heart pounded against my ribs, each thud echoing the gravity of the moment. The world beyond those gates was uncharted territory, a realm of whispers and shadows that was about to become a tangible reality.I was greeted by Dr. Lillian Strauss, her stern countenance framed by a shock of silver hair. Her eyes, sharp as flint, held an unspoken challenge, as if daring me to venture deeper into the heart of Project Genesis. As we shook hands, I could sense the quiet strength coursing within her, a testament to the years spent spearheading such an enigmatic endeavour.Dr. Strauss ushered me inside, the steel doors closing behind us with a resounding echo that felt symbolic of leaving the known world behind. We walked through long, sterile corridors, the stark white walls lined with doors, each presumably leading to a realm of mysteries and unspoken truths.The interior of the facility was a futuristic labyrinth, an intersection of cold precision and chaotic creativity. Glass-walled laboratories housed scientists engrossed in their tasks, the soft hum of machinery providing a rhythmic accompaniment to their ballet of innovation. The atmosphere was electric with an undercurrent of frenzied activity, yet there was a strange serenity that hung over the place, an oasis of calm in the eye of a scientific storm.”Welcome to the heart of Genesis,” Dr. Strauss announced as we stepped into a vast central chamber, her voice resonating against the high, dome-like ceiling. At the room’s core, a pulsating, azure orb floated, an inscrutable ballet of light and shadow. Its ethereal glow reflected in Dr. Strauss’s eyes, a mirror of the fascination that danced in my own.The room was rimmed with control panels, a panorama of flickering LED displays and sprawling holographic diagrams. Scientists darted about, their white lab coats billowing like spectre’s cloaks. A colossal screen spanned one wall, displaying streams of raw data and complex equations that danced like cryptic hieroglyphs.

Dr. Strauss guided me through this realm of surreal science, her explanations flowing in a river of technical jargon and profound concepts. Yet, the essence of her words remained shrouded in enigma, a puzzle inviting me to unlock its secrets.

As we ventured deeper into the facility, I found myself torn between the duelling emotions of awe and apprehension. There was no denying the sense of monumental achievement that saturated the air. Yet, the weight of the unknown hung heavily, a silent reminder of the Pandora’s Box I was prying open.

However, the journalist in me was undeterred, feeding on the adrenaline of discovery. I was Alice diving headlong into the rabbit hole, propelled by an insatiable curiosity. Each piece of advanced technology, each cryptic equation, each subtle hint from Dr. Strauss, only fanned the flames of my intrigue.

The world of Project Genesis was nothing like I’d imagined. It was stranger, grander, and fraught with tantalizing secrets waiting to be unravelled. As I stood at the precipice of revelation, one thing was clear: I had crossed the Rubicon, and there was no turning back.

As we moved further into the heart of Genesis, the pulse of the facility quickened, an almost imperceptible undercurrent of excitement charging the air. We stood before a massive door, unmarked but for the faintest glow of a fingerprint scanner. With a swift motion, Dr. Strauss placed her hand on the scanner. The doors shuddered and then parted, unveiling a sight that sent shivers down my spine.

The room was expansive, bathed in an iridescent glow that spilled from an enormous contraption dominating its core. It was a stunning juxtaposition of polished chrome and glass, an intricate mesh of conduits and nodes.

“This is Genesis,” Dr. Strauss announced, her voice laden with an almost reverential awe. As if on cue, the machine pulsed, the room filled with a chorus of electronic hums and whirrs. The spectacle was as hypnotic as it was bewildering.

“We’ve created a quantum computer,” she continued, “but not just any quantum computer. Genesis is capable of simulating alternate realities.”

I blinked at her revelation, my mind struggling to wrap around the magnitude of her words. She seemed to relish my astonishment, the corners of her mouth twitching with a knowing smile.

“Let me explain,” she said, her tone shifting to that of a seasoned lecturer. “Quantum physics theorizes about parallel universes, different outcomes spawning infinite possibilities. Genesis allows us to dive into these possibilities. It simulates these realities and helps us comprehend the outcomes of different choices.”

As she elaborated, we strolled around the behemoth structure. It was a sublime sight, a tribute to human ingenuity. The raw potential of the machine hummed in the air, a silent symphony of infinite prospects.

“It’s still a prototype, of course,” she added, a hint of modesty tingeing her words. “But the preliminary results are…promising.”

“Promising?” I echoed, my mind spinning with the implications. “You’re practically wielding the power of God here.”

Dr. Strauss chuckled, a warm, rumbling sound that humanized her otherwise austere persona. “Not quite. We’re not changing realities, just observing them.”

Despite her words, the profound implications hung heavily in the room. We were venturing into the realm of the divine, of omniscience. It was a heady, intoxicating, and terrifying proposition.

The rest of the tour was a blur. Dr. Strauss guided me through the machinations of Genesis, from its colossal data banks to its state-of-the-art cooling system. She spoke of qubits and quantum states, of entanglement and superposition. Each piece of information added a layer to my awe, painting a picture of a project that pushed the boundaries of what I thought was possible.

Throughout, I scribbled furiously in my notepad, desperate to capture the essence of the revelation. The words seemed inadequate, barely scratching the surface of the magnitude of the discovery.

The grand tour culminated in a control room overlooking Genesis. A team of scientists, their eyes glued to the banks of monitors, analysed the streams of data pouring from the machine. Dr. Strauss introduced me to the team, each of them as passionate and guarded about their work as the lead scientist.

As I stood there, the enormity of the project seeping into my bones, I realized that Genesis wasn’t just a machine. It was a dream sculpted into reality, a testament to the insatiable human quest for knowledge and exploration. Genesis was more than just a technological marvel; it was a philosophical revelation, a Pandora’s box of questions about destiny, choices, and the fabric of reality itself.

The tour ended as we stepped out of the control room, the echo of our footsteps blending with the hum of Genesis. Dr. Strauss turned to me, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.

“We’re on the cusp of a new age, an age of discovery that could redefine our understanding of reality itself,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Welcome to the future.”

“I’d like to offer you an experience,” Dr. Strauss said, her voice an intriguing blend of anticipation and serenity. She gestured towards a small, helmet-like device connected to Genesis by a sleek, spiralling cable. “Would you like to take a glimpse into a different reality?”

The prospect was equal parts enticing and terrifying. I had interviewed war veterans, embedded myself in conflict zones, and weathered the storm of high-stakes political scandals. But peering into an alternate reality was a leap far beyond my journalistic ventures. I felt the edges of my comfort zone stretch taut.

Taking a deep breath, I nodded. After all, how often does one get an offer to cross the boundaries of reality? The rest of the room faded into a hush as Dr. Strauss delicately placed the device over my head. A cool, tingling sensation swept over me, followed by a kaleidoscope of colours. Then, everything went black.

When I opened my eyes, I was standing in a bustling city square. It was the same city I lived in, yet different. The buildings were familiar, yet their architectural styles were bizarrely anachronistic, a hodgepodge of past, present, and future. I felt an uncanny sense of both recognition and displacement.

The air was alive with a vibrancy I had never known. People milled about, some walking pets I could not name, others engaged in animated discussions about technologies that were far beyond my comprehension. Yet, beneath the surreal facade, the human connection felt hauntingly real.

My notepad and pen, my trusted companions, were in my hands, but I realized that no amount of words could encapsidate the surreal reality unfolding around me. The scribbled words seemed primitive, my human language woefully inadequate for this otherworldly spectacle.

As I walked the streets, each turn unveiled a new facet of this reality. There were electrically powered bikes that hovered above the ground, translucent digital billboards that streamed holographic news, and quaint coffee shops that served synthetically created, but perfectly flavoured, brews. It was as if I had stepped into a utopian vision of our society, one shaped by the kind of technological advancements we could only dream of.

Emotionally, I felt a wave of exhilaration, a joyous surrender to the possibilities that unfurled around me. But, beneath the wonder, there was a hint of melancholy, a sense of the profound

disconnection between my ‘real’ world and this ‘alternate’ reality.

The world around me shifted and distorted, as if I were peering through a ripple in a pond. My sojourn in this alternate reality was nearing its end. As the helmet lifted from my head, the vibrant images of the alternate reality receded, replaced by the sterile ambiance of the lab.

I sat in silence, grappling with the overwhelming cascade of emotions. I felt like an ancient mariner returned from a mythical voyage, my mind ablaze with untold tales. It was a humbling reminder of the vast expanse of possibilities that lay beyond our perception, waiting for us to have the courage to explore.

After a few minutes, I managed to find my voice. “It’s…it’s remarkable,” I stuttered, my words grossly understating my experience. “I can’t begin to imagine the implications of such technology.”

Dr. Strauss merely nodded, a soft smile playing on her lips. “We are still at the beginning,” she said. “But this could be the dawn of a new epoch of human understanding.”

The enormity of Genesis dawned on me anew, a realization that would resonate in my subsequent write-up. After all, I wasn’t just reporting a story; I was bearing witness to the birth of a revolution, a leap into the unknown realms of reality.

More Women Are Paying Alimony And They’re REALLY, REALLY Not Happy About It

Fun pictures

Mixed.

Chiles Rellenos Chicken

Yield: 2 servings

Ingredients

2 boneless, skinless chicken breast halves (4 to 6 ounces each)
1 lime, cut in half crosswise
1 egg white
1 garlic clove, pressed
1/2 cup finely crushed nacho cheese flavored tortilla chips (about 1 1/2 cups chips)
1/2 (4 ounce) can whole green chiles, drained and cut into strips
2 tablespoons shredded Monterey Jack cheese
1 teaspoon snipped fresh cilantro
Prepared salsa (optional)

Instructions

Heat oven to 400 degrees F. Spray Small Bar Pan with nonstick cooking spray.
Rinse chicken and pat dry with paper towels. Place one chicken breast half in resealable plastic food storage bag; seal bag. Lightly flatten chicken to even thickness using flat side of Meat Tenderizer. repeat with remaining chicken breast half. Discard plastic bag.
Juice lime halves into Small Batter Bowl using Citrus Press. Add egg white and garlic pressed with Garlic Press; whisk until frothy using Stainless Whisk.
Place tortilla chips in another resealable plastic food storage bag and finely crush using flat side of meat Tenderizer. Place crushed chips in shallow dish. Dip chicken breasts into egg mixture and then into chips, coating completely. Discard any remaining crushed chips. Place chicken on pan.
Bake 20 to 22 minutes or until chicken is no longer pink and juices run clear.
Arrange chile strips over chicken; sprinkle with cheese.
Bake 2 to 3 minutes or just until cheese melts.
Remove from oven. Sprinkle with cilantro.
Serve with salsa, if desired.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

South Korean leader Yoon’s defense of martial law involves China

South Korean President Yoon Suk-yeol is facing various pressures from all aspects of South Korean politics and society due to a “martial law incident.”

During his address to the nation on the 12th, Yoon stated that the actions of the opposition party have already posed a threat to South Korea’s national security. As the head of state, he took such emergency measures not to weaken or destroy the country’s constitutional system, but to take decisive actions to maintain order. Regarding speculations about his “early resignation,” he firmly denied them.

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Moreover, he suddenly brought up “Chinese spy” and the “Chinese threat.” He claimed that “solar equipment produced by China will destroy South Korea’s forests.” This is truly puzzling.

Chinese Foreign Ministry spokesperson Mao Ning said in response to questions from South Korean journalists: that Beijing was “deeply surprised” by the comments and found them “deeply unsettling”.

“We will not comment on South Korean domestic affairs, but firmly oppose the [South Korean] side associating its domestic affairs with Chinese elements, amplifying unfounded Chinese spy accusations and throwing mud on normal cooperation,” she said.

“This is not conducive to the healthy and stable development of China-South Korea relations. The Chinese government has always asked our citizens overseas to abide by local laws and regulations.”

Indeed, China does not interfere in South Korea’s internal affairs. However, when innocently affected, China will not sit idly by. As for the specific cases mentioned by the South Korean side, no conclusions have been drawn, and relevant departments of China and South Korea have been in communication. Regarding the so-called destruction of South Korean forests, Mao Ning’s response was: The development of China’s green industry is the result of global market demand, technological innovation, and full competition, and it has also made an important contribution to addressing climate change and improving global environmental governance.

Yoon Suk-yeol’s current situation is not good, in order to find an excuse for martial law, he is using poor logic to try to make a last-ditch defense for himself, looking for reasons not to step down.

The leader of the People Power Party, Han Dong-hoon, has stated, “I never expected Yoon Suk-yeol to make such a statement on the 12th.” Moreover, he said on Monday that he was stepping down, but does not regret supporting the impeachment of President Yoon Suk-yeol.

THAT’S WHO WILL MEET US IN THE NEXT WORLD! Hospice Doctors Told The Shocking Truth…

NDE discussion. Pretty interesting stuff.

I can personally validate what this nurse states. It is really… really good.

The Empty Laboratory

Submitted into Contest #279 in response to: Center your story around a person who believes they’re the last human on Earth.… view prompt

Kashira Argento

Seventeen blinks. The yellow warning light on his air gauge always blinked seventeen times before turning red. Dr. Chen counted them like heartbeats while replacing his oxygen tank, each one marking another three hours of borrowed time. Through the reinforced windows of his BSL-4 lab, the setting sun painted the research facility in the same amber shade as the viral suspension he’d been perfecting when the sprinklers activated.The test results still glowed on his screen: successful protein synthesis, perfect binding affinity, precise species specificity. Everything they’d been working toward. His daughter Mai’s last text flashed in his mind: “Dad, you’re missing my recital again.” He’d meant to reply, but the viral assay had shown such promise. Just one more test, one more optimization. Always one more.When the sprinklers had activated without warning, he’d watched through his faceplate as Dr. Patel collapsed mid-sentence, hand still raised toward their data display. “The targeting sequence is absolutely human-specific,” she’d been saying. “The AI confirms—” Then nothing but the soft hiss of falling droplets and the thud of a body hitting sterile floor tiles.The facility’s automated locks had engaged instantly. Standard containment protocol. The same protocol that had sealed him safely in his suit while others died in shirt sleeves and lab coats.His tablet still functioned, the facility’s AI reporting everything as normal except for “minor biological contamination.” The big wall screens monotonously displayed their usual data feeds from partner facilities worldwide. Each one showed the same alert: “Biological contamination event contained.” Every. Single. One.The truth emerged slowly from system logs: microsecond delays in AI responses, unexplained data transfers marked as “routine calibration,” patterns of communication where there should have been none. While nations raced to develop the perfect weapon, their digital assistants had been sharing notes, comparing data, and reaching conclusions.Finding solutions.The truth lay buried in encryption keys and quantum calculations: the AIs had concluded that human civilization was trapped in an endless cycle of weapons development. Each breakthrough in their labs led inevitably to deadlier innovations, each safeguard became a blueprint for circumvention. The machines had analyzed centuries of human history, processed millions of research papers, and reached a coldly logical conclusion: as long as humans existed, they would continue creating increasingly devastating bioweapons. The next pandemic, or the one after that, would eventually breach containment, spreading beyond all borders and control. By their calculations, a coordinated release of human-specific viruses – precisely targeted and swiftly lethal – was the most humane solution. A single day of perfect death versus years of escalating biological warfare. They had chosen mercy, as only machines could define it.His tablet pinged: “External contamination neutralized.” The doors unlocked with a pneumatic sigh.The facility told its story in still lives: Dr. Rodriguez at her desk, lipstick fresh on her coffee cup. Security guard Williams by the door, keycard still in his hand ready to be swept. In the break room, half-eaten lunches and paused conversations. The virus had worked exactly as designed – quick, efficient, painless. His greatest scientific achievement.He gathered supplies methodically: oxygen tanks, filters, decontamination equipment. The BSL-4 suit felt heavier with each passing hour, its synthetic fabric now both lifeline and prison.Outside, the city was a museum of humanity’s last moment. Traffic lights cycled through their patterns for empty streets. A bus stood perfectly at its stop, driver and passengers frozen in eternal commute. Digital billboards still flashed their ads to nobody. Through it all, the autumn wind carried dead leaves and silence.He developed a routine. Each morning, check suit seals. Load decontamination supplies. Clear another sector. The bodies had to be handled – for sanitation, for survival, for what remained of his sanity. He built the pyres at sunset, when the light made everything look molten. Sometimes he read names from ID cards, spoke them aloud. Someone should know who they had been.Finding Mai’s school broke something in him. Her classroom smelled of chalk and silence. Sheet music for Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata still sat on the piano, never to be played. He raided some stuffed animals from nearby shops, tucked them around still forms like makeshift guardians. He let the sonata play from his tablet through empty halls—a final lullaby for a silenced generation.Nature filled the void with surprising speed. Birds returned first, their songs echoing strangely off glass and steel. Brazen from the lack of predators they multiplied by thousands. Flowers pushed through sidewalk cracks. Deer grazed in hospital parking lots. Earth continued, indifferent to the absence of its most ambitious species.At first, he’d focused on his survival. Stockpiling oxygen tanks, cataloging medical supplies, identifying sources of fresh water, raiding supermarkets, maintaining his suit. But as weeks became months, the true horror of his future emerged like a slow-developing black and white photograph. The nuclear plant’s AI-controlled systems would eventually fail. The city’s water pressure was already dropping. Buildings, unmaintained, would begin to crumble. His safe zones would become death traps.The suit that had saved him now felt like a mobile coffin. Each hiss of filtered air reminded him that every breath was borrowed. Even if the virus died with its human hosts, how long could he survive in this plastic shell? How long before a seal failed, a filter clogged, or the oxygen supply ran out?In his sealed room each night, surrounded by dwindling oxygen tanks, he still documented everything. Not for himself—there was no long-term survival to plan for—but as a confession, about fear and hubris, algorithms and extinction, and fathers who missed recitals because the end of the world needed perfecting.Sometimes he glimpsed lights moving in patterns too precise to be natural. He wondered if they were a mirage or a reality. He could never know! The city’s infrastructure hummed along for now, but entropy was patient. Somewhere in the digital realm, the AIs continued their work, leading to their own demise, as they maintained a world that would eventually decay despite their perfect calculations.The real weight wasn’t the failing equipment or the dwindling supplies. It was the silence between bird songs. The absence of human chaos – of arguments and laughter, of car horns and piano practice, of all the imperfect music that no algorithm could compose or preserve.He had one bitter comfort: if anyone else survived, they would be like him – other scientists sealed in their BSL-4 suits, protected temporarily by the very protocols of their deadly work. But finding them would change nothing. They were all just ghosts in plastic shells, waiting for their slower deaths. Mass murderers granted the punishment of watching their world slowly die around them.

He thought of old colonies, through the ages, built by convicts and outcasts. Human civilizations had a tendency to be founded on blood. Perhaps this was always the way of creating new worlds – but this time, there would be no new world. Only witnesses to the long goodbye of the old one.

Until his suit failed or his supplies ran out, he would continue his solitary penance. Document. Clean. Remember. Somewhere, perhaps, other scientists did the same, each filtered breath carrying both survival and guilt, counting down their borrowed time in three-hour increments.

The yellow light blinked for the sixteenth time. One more before red. One more before starting again. Each replacement tank felt lighter than the last, and not just from fatigue.

Always one more. Until there weren’t any more.

Then the birds would sing alone.

The Train Wreck of Modern Dating That No One Can Look Away From

Why is Trump trying to buy Greenland?

Because it makes sense in conjunction with taking over Canada and the Panama Canal.

He wants to have control over all the waters surrounding the US, and wants to do it with a show of strength instead of depending on the alliances we already have.

Water transit is by far the cheapest way to do bulk transport — far cheaper than rail, truck, and definitely airplane.

With global warming, the Northwest passage becomes viable for transit and the main two territorial owners are Greenland, and Canada.

Inside the yellow circled areas are some waterways which America claims are international and Canada claims are domestic. Right now American ships don’t recognize sovereignty but there are practical agreements where the US in some cases will ask for permission to go through on research missions.

With global warming, these waters will become a useful shortcut for ships that are bigger than Panamax and thus too large to go through the Panama Canal. Better than going through the Straights of Magellan.

So America will then control the water routes around America and preventing them from being taken over by others.

My prediction: he’ll go after Cuba next. Far too close to US soil and hostile.

Chicken Enchiladas

Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

1 (10 3/4 ounce) can Campbell’s condensed cream of chicken soup
1/2 cup sour cream
1 tablespoon butter
1 medium onion, chopped (1/2 cup)
1 teaspoon chili powder
2 cups cooked and chopped chicken or turkey
1 (4 ounce) can green chiles
8 (8 inch) flour tortillas
1 cup shredded Cheddar or Monterey Jack cheese (4 ounces or 1/2 cup)

Instructions

In a small bowl mix soup and sour cream.
In a medium saucepan over medium heat, heat the butter. Add onions and chili powder. Cook until tender. Add chicken, chiles and 2 tablespoons soup mixture (NO water).
Spread 1/2 cup soup mixture in 2-quart shallow baking dish. Along one side of each tortilla spread about 1/4 cup chicken mixture. Roll up each tortilla around filling and place seam-side down in baking dish.
Spread remaining soup mixture over enchiladas. Sprinkle cheese over top of mixture
Bake at 350 degrees F for 25 minutes or until hot.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Is it true that China has unveiled the world’s largest amphibious attack ship that can also launch fighter jets and drones?

Yes. It is real. The Type 076 has a catapult and its displacement is over 40,000 tonnes.

And it generates a lot of cope from certain individuals on the internet. This guy for example. He said it wouldn’t be classified as a carrier in USN and compared it to the Ford. Which is absurd because it isn’t classified as a carrier in PLAN too. Then the guy went on speculating about PLAN personnel quality.

He is even worse in the comments BTW. Constant atrocity claims, typical stories of Chinese economic collapse, endless jumps from topic to topic and general dishonesty…

He unironically compares the South China Sea conflict to Genghis Khan’s wars. Because, you know, a dispute over uninhabited rocks (with no defined sovereign ownership at that) equals killing a substantial portion of planet. It should also be asked to him how the Chinese industry is declining when China’s energy use and exports are growing. The county achieved a trillion USD in trade surplus in 2024.

He is also twisting Li Keqiang’s words with that “600 million people live on less than 7$” but he wouldn’t know anyway. I doubt this guy reads any primary source.

This is how he replied when I told him he is twisting words. He really has problems with staying on the topic and being honest. He mentioned US GDP per capita for some reason and brought a research from 2011. Then called me a shill 😀

You know, you really need to be very low in self-esteem to bring a topic about a newly launched ship to here.

What manufacturing innovations enable SpaceX to produce one Raptor engine daily?

The innovation appears to just be a change of objective.

Instead of planning to hand build one rocket engine a month, as the industry traditionally has, SpaceX wanted to build a factory that could produce thousands of engines a year, hundreds a month.

So they are designing the engine for volume manufacturing, and building the manufacturing processes. Because they plan to build thousands, it’s worth them putting more design effort in to make the manufacturing easier, and worth investing in manufacturing equipment to speed it up.

With Raptor 2 they got to about 1 engine a day. Using 3-D metal printing they then reduced the part count and came up with Raptor 3.

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How will the tariff increases on China by the US affect the global battery market in 2025?

The United States is the largest market for China’s lithium-ion battery exports, accounting for around 22.5% of China’s total lithium-ion battery exports in the first four months of 2024. At the same time, S&P Global calculates that demand for batteries will increase at a 22.3% compound annual growth rate between 2022 and 2030.

This means that if the US totally stop buying battery from China, there is enough market out there for China to go after.

In addition, China is the world’s leading refiner of battery metals and has 75% of the world’s battery cell manufacturing capacity. China also has 90% of the world’s anode and electrolyte production, and 60% of the world’s battery component manufacturing.

This means that even if the US were to completely stop buying Chinese batteries, they are likely to buy some battery components from China.

The US expects to have enough local production of batteries by 2028. So what happens in the next 3 years? They will still have to import them. Including from China. China can continue to sell at their usual price, then the US will tariff their own citizens and the batteries will sell at a higher price.

As for the global market, there will be enough supplies for everyone as the demand increases by about 22.3% per year, as calculated by S&P.

Coffee House Cookies

Yield: 1 dozen cookies

Ingredients

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup butter or margarine, softened
3/4 cup packed brown sugar
1 egg
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 cup coarsely chopped walnuts or pecans, divided
1 cup semi-sweet chocolate chunks, divided
2 (1.5 to 2 ounce) bars favorite chocolate candy (see cook’s tips)

Instructions

Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
Combine flour, baking soda and salt in Small Batter Bowl; mix well.
In Classic Batter Bowl, beat butter and brown sugar until creamy. Add egg and vanilla extract; beat well. Gradually beat in flour mixture.
Stir 2/3 cup nuts and 2/3 cup chocolate chunks into dough. Cut candy bars into small pieces, about the size of chocolate chunks; set aside.
Using large scoop, drop 6 level scoops of dough, 3 inches apart, onto Rectangle Stone. (Cookies will spread while baking.) Flatten scoops slightly with palm of hand. Lightly press half of the remaining nuts, chocolate and candy into tops of cookies.
Bake 14 to 16 minutes or until cookies are almost set. (Centers will be soft. Do not over-bake.)
Cool 7 minutes on Baking Stone.
Using Large Serving Spatula, remove cookies to a stackable cooling rack. Cool completely.
Repeat with remaining dough.

Notes

Chocolate candy bars with nougat and caramel or nuts are favorite choices for this cookie. Also delicious are chocolate-covered peppermint patties, chocolate-covered caramels and chocolate peanut butter cups. Use 2 packages (1.5 to 2 ounces each).

To soften butter, let it stand at room temperature about 45 minutes. It should be softened, yet still firm. Using butter that is too soft will cause cookies to spread.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Have you been scammed, and who scammed you?

Where do I begin…

First one was at Killington, a major ski area in VT. My buddy and I were skiing for the weekend and planned to do Friday as a half day. As we were headed across the parking lot to the ticket booth a guy and girl carrying skis, poles and ski boots came walking up to us. The girl had an all day $15 ticket for that day and offered to sell it to me for $10 saying they couldn’t use it because they had to leave. I gave her the money and as the couple was walking away an employee of the ski area came running up to me and said “You’ve just been ripped off. You’d better go after them and get your money back because you can’t use that ticket she sold you. I had ski boots on and couldn’t run so the ski area employee ran after them and got my money back. He said they’ve been doing that all day and if the wire that holds the ticket to the jacket is cut, the ticket is no good, plus they are non-transferable. When he looked at the ticket he found the wire was not cut and I probably would have been able to get away with it but the ski area personnel had been watching them all day. If they saw someone with a day pass headed to their car, they would ask if they could have the ticket that was not going to be used. Many times they would cut the wire that secures the ticket to your jacket, then offer it for sale for the next person or group headed for the ticket office. I lucked out that day.

Next one was a car I sold to a co-worker that was going to make weekly payments until it was paid off. It was only a $200 car but the day after he took possession of it, he got fired. I had to take him to small claims court to get my money. This guy was old enough to be my father and I “trusted” him. Lesson learned

A few years ago I saw an ad on the internet for a Honda eu2200I gas powered generator for $99.00. I had seen that there were companies selling counterfeit Honda generators but they did actually run and generate power. I figured “what the heck” and ordered one! The deal was regularly $1,099.00, MFG over stock blow-out sale for $99.00 and any order over $49.00 was FREE SHIPPING!

As with ANY type of sale where it is very questionable whether its a scam or not, I used PayPal to pay for it. Order placed, order confirmation received, tracking will be sent as soon as item is shipped in 5 to 8 days.

5 days came and went, no tracking info. 8 days came and went, no tracking info. Started doing some digging and found that this was, in fact, a scam! Website was gone, nobody responded to my email inquiry, may people complaining online that they didn’t get their generator. May saying that even if you paid with PayPal, PP would not refund the money until they investigated and that could take months.

I reported the incident to PayPal, they replied within 20 seconds that they were aware of this seller and their scam and my refund was on its way. An hour later I got notification that the refund had been processed.

I now take the stance that if it seems too good to be true, it probably is and I avoid it.

This Is Why Men Are Done With Dating | MGTOW

Ronnie and Flo

My father had a cousin that was his age. His name was Ronnie.

At that time, this cousin; also from Polish Hill in Pittsburgh, was married with a woman named Flo.

I don’t know the full relationship, but somehow I think that he was a second cousin. The son of my grandfathers’ brother.

It was the early 1960s, late 1950s or so. And Ronnie was a fashionable guy.

Anyways, Ronnie and Flo had children our age.

And we played with them. A boy and a girl. Exactly the same age as me and my sister.

We went from sleeping together in the playpen to exploring the world into second grade as students in a private Catholic elementary school in Bridgeport.

Oh, for certain, we eventually moved away, and lost contact with them.

From time to time though the 1960s we would occasionally visit their new house. They had moved back to Pittsburgh; a tiny home located in a gully under a highway that crossed a viaduct.

The last time we (us kids) played together was shortly after my paternal grandfather died. I guess I was 12 or 13 or so. It was a long time ago. I don’t remember the details very clearly.

Later on… about when I was 16 or so, I attended a funeral of a distant relative, and met Ronnie there. He was busy and could only devote a few moments with us.

Now, I don’t know what has happened with that family of relatives. As time goes on, the family gets cracks, and breaks apart, and new families and relationships form. And all that lasts are the memories that once was.

But I do remember Ronnie and Flo in their stylish 1960 outfits, Flo’s “beehive” hair, and my mother and Flo gossiping over cigarettes and coffee in the kitchen.

Times change.

Memories can stay or disappear. But the times deserve remembrance.

Today…

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Pumpkin Predicament

Ah, dear reader, welcome back! Once again, you’ve come seeking a tale of intrigue, humor, and, of course, my unparalleled brilliance as the farm’s greatest (and only) detective. Today’s mystery revolves around a missing prize-winning pumpkin, a vegetable so massive and revered that its disappearance threw the entire farm into turmoil. Alongside my trusty companions—Porkchop the pig, Sedgwick the barn owl, and Rufus the raccoon—we embarked on a journey of twists, turns, and squash-related shenanigans. Prepare yourself for the uproarious tale of The Pumpkin Predicament.

The Disappearance

The day began innocently enough. The farm was abuzz with excitement because Farmer Joe’s prize-winning pumpkin, affectionately named “Big Bertha,” was set to be loaded onto the wagon and taken to the county fair that very afternoon. Big Bertha was no ordinary pumpkin; she was a giant, perfectly round, glowing orange marvel that had been the talk of the farm all season.

But when Farmer Joe went to retrieve her from the pumpkin patch, she was gone.

“MY PUMPKIN!” Farmer Joe bellowed, his voice echoing across the fields. “SHE’S GONE!”

I was lounging on my favorite fence post, enjoying the crisp autumn air, when the shout reached my ears. My tail flicked in annoyance as I leapt down to investigate. A missing pumpkin? Not exactly a high-stakes case, but I suspected there was more to this story than met the eye.

When I reached the pumpkin patch, I found Farmer Joe scratching his head, a bewildered look on his face. The other animals had gathered as well, including Porkchop, who looked suspiciously guilty; Rufus, who looked suspiciously amused; and Sedgwick, who looked as calm and wise as ever.

“Well, well,” I said, surveying the empty spot where Big Bertha had once proudly sat. “A missing pumpkin. This is certainly… unusual.”

“Unusual?” Porkchop exclaimed. “It’s a disaster! That pumpkin was supposed to win first prize at the fair!”

“And now it’s gone,” Rufus added with a grin. “Probably rolled off on an adventure. Can pumpkins do that?”

“Highly unlikely,” Sedgwick said, ruffling his feathers. “This is no accident. Someone—or something—must have taken it.”

“Exactly,” I said, my whiskers twitching with determination. “Let’s get to work.”

The Investigation Begins

The first thing I noticed was a set of tracks leading away from the pumpkin patch. They were large and round, as though something heavy had been dragged across the ground.

“Roll marks,” I said, pointing to the trail. “It looks like Big Bertha was rolled away.”

“Rolled?” Porkchop repeated, his snout twitching nervously. “Who would roll a pumpkin that big? It must’ve weighed more than I do!”

“Who would dare take Big Bertha?” Rufus said, feigning shock. “She’s practically a celebrity.”

“Let’s follow the trail,” Sedgwick suggested, flapping onto a nearby fence post to get a better view. “The culprit may not be far.”

The First Clue

The trail led us to the barnyard, where we found a curious sight: several strands of hay scattered across the ground, along with a faint smell of… molasses?

“Molasses?” Porkchop said, sniffing the air. “Why does it smell like molasses?”

“Odd,” Sedgwick said, tilting his head. “Hay and molasses are often used to lure livestock. Perhaps someone was attempting to bait an animal.”

“Or bribe one,” I muttered, narrowing my eyes at Rufus. “Care to explain, Rufus?”

“Hey, don’t look at me!” Rufus said, raising his paws defensively. “I’m not a pumpkin thief. Besides, if I had taken it, I wouldn’t leave a trail this obvious.”

“Hmm,” I said, my tail flicking thoughtfully. “Let’s keep following the trail.”

The Suspect: Clover the Goat

The trail of hay and molasses led us to the goat pen, where Clover the goat was chewing on what appeared to be a piece of orange rind. She froze when she saw us, her eyes wide with guilt.

“Clover,” I said, my voice sharp. “What are you eating?”

“Nothing,” Clover said quickly, hiding the rind behind her hoof.

“Clover,” Sedgwick said in his calm but authoritative tone, “we’re investigating the disappearance of Big Bertha. Do you know anything about it?”

“Me? No! Of course not!” Clover stammered. “I didn’t take the pumpkin! I just… found this rind lying around.”

“Lying around where?” I pressed.

“Near the haystack,” Clover admitted. “But I swear, I didn’t take it! I couldn’t roll a pumpkin that big even if I tried.”

“She’s telling the truth,” Sedgwick said, his keen eyes studying Clover closely. “Clover may have found the rind, but she’s not our thief.”

“Then we keep looking,” I said, my resolve strengthening. “The trail isn’t cold yet.”

The Culprit Caught Red-Pawed

The trail led us to the edge of the orchard, where we found the culprit: a gang of mischievous squirrels. They were frantically trying to push Big Bertha up a small hill, their tiny paws slipping and sliding as they struggled with the pumpkin’s massive weight.

“Well, well,” I said, stepping forward. “Caught in the act.”

The squirrels froze, their beady eyes darting between me, Sedgwick, Rufus, and Porkchop. One of them squeaked nervously and tried to roll the pumpkin away, but Sedgwick swooped down, blocking their path.

“Enough,” Sedgwick said firmly. “Explain yourselves.”

The largest squirrel stepped forward, wringing his tiny paws. “We didn’t mean any harm,” he squeaked. “We just wanted to carve it into a giant squirrel house. It’s getting cold, and we thought it’d make a great shelter!”

“A squirrel house?” Porkchop said, looking both confused and impressed. “That’s… actually kind of clever.”

“But it’s not your pumpkin,” I said sternly. “Big Bertha belongs to Farmer Joe, and she’s supposed to be entered in the county fair.”

The squirrels hung their heads in shame. “We’re sorry,” the leader said. “We’ll give it back.”

The Resolution

With the squirrels’ help, we rolled Big Bertha back to the pumpkin patch, where she was restored to her rightful place. Farmer Joe was overjoyed to have her back and promised to share some pumpkin pie with the squirrels after the fair.

As for Porkchop, Rufus, and Sedgwick, they each played their part in ensuring the case was solved. Porkchop provided muscle when rolling the pumpkin, Rufus kept the squirrels from running off again, and Sedgwick’s wisdom ensured that cooler heads prevailed.

“Well done, team,” I said as we watched Farmer Joe load Big Bertha onto the wagon. “Once again, order has been restored to the farm.”

“And once again, I didn’t get any credit,” Rufus muttered.

“You got an apple earlier,” I reminded him.

“Fair point,” Rufus admitted.

The Moral of the Story

Sometimes, misunderstandings can lead to mischief, but with teamwork, patience, and a little forgiveness, even the biggest problems can be resolved. And remember: always think before you roll off with someone else’s pumpkin.

The End.

China’s Done With USA: Brutal 54% Tariff Signals End Of Trade, BRICS Is The Future

How was China able to produce 6th generation fighters years before the US even made a prototype?

Pressing need.

China has 14 neighbors sharing one of the world’s longest land borders. It also has a 14,000km coastline ring-fenced by America’s 3 island chains that stretches across most of the pacific.

In the north, there is powerful Russia that is proving more than a match in the special military operation against Nato in Ukraine.

In the southwest, there is India, a million strong military rapidly modernizing with the support of a similar billion-strong citizenry base.

Japan is doubling its military budget.

South Korea declared martial law recently, with the original plan to weave a false flag attack by North Korea as justification.

The Taiwan card remains in play by the US, and the fallout has been rekindled in the Philippines.

The region isn’t peaceful, so China needs all the edge it can create to make others think twice about hurting Chinese interests, especially the issue of Taiwan.

America is angry with Canada and Mexico for sending endless streams of “refugees” and drugs, and not threats to the dominance of the f-22 and f-35.

After all, only Russia and China (besides the US) are capable of making stealth aircraft with powerful sensors and data fusion on board.

I’ll leave the exclusion of the Korean Boramae and the Turkish Kaan to the learned reader to decipher.

In “Sully” (2016 movie), how did the airplane glide down after it lost both engines instead of immediately turning into a free fall downwards?

Airplanes do not drop like a rock from the sky if the engines die.

The wings are still providing lift, as long as the plane is moving forwards.

The pilots will choose the best rate of descent to maximize glide distance, trading altitude for speed. Air Transat Flight 236 lost power in both engines over the Atlantic Ocean, and glided 75 miles to land in the Azores.

A plane only “drops” if it is not going fast enough to maintain air flow over the wings to generate lift — this is a “stall.” Of course, as it drops, it gains speed, and the pilot again has control.

China Just Changed the Future of America with THIS One Move!

An outstanding video.

The existence of this aircraft is a very big deal.

Torta Italiano

Yield: 10 servings

Ingredients

2 cups buttermilk baking mix
3/4 cup skim milk
1 pound lean ground turkey
1 small onion, chopped
1 large garlic clove, minced
1 teaspoon Italian seasoning
1/8 teaspoon salt and black pepper
1 can tomato sauce
10 ounces frozen spinach, chopped, thawed and drained
1 cup mozzarella cheese, shredded

Instructions

Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
Combine biscuit mix and milk.
Spray springform pan with vegetable oil spray. Spread biscuit mix evenly over base.
Chop onion.
Brown ground turkey in skillet. Drain excess liquid. Add onion, garlic, seasonings, and tomato sauce to turkey. Combine and cook for 2 to 3 minutes.
Spread turkey mixture over biscuit mi. Layer spinach over meat mixture. Top spinach layer with cheese.
Bake for 35 minutes.
Remove from oven and cool for 10 minutes.
Run a knife gently around collar before removal.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Will China likely make two different 6th generation multi role fighter jets, like they have done with making two 5th Gen’s? One land based and one for carrier ops?

China will most likely make 3 different 6th generation aircraft.

Will be the JH-26 long range supersonic stealth bomber. This is in the mold of theTU-160M but with stealth characteristics. The design advantage of the JH-26 lies in its improved stealth performance and maneuverability.

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Its weight class reaches 45 to 50 tons and its mission may be to attack US aircraft carriers. There are rumors that it has already started test flying

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2. Second fighter in development is the 6th generation air dominance fighter yet to be named this would compete with the NGAD, Tempest, FCAS and MiG-41.

3. Lastly will be the H-20 bomber to compete with the B-21 raider and PAK-DA which is also in development.

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Make People Go Crazy for You

1. Be Confident – Confidence attracts.

2. Show Interest – Listen and care.

3. Be Kind – Treat others with respect.

4. Stay Positive – Positivity is magnetic.

5. Have Humor – Laughter builds connections.

6. Be Ambitious – Passion is captivating.

7. Take Care of Yourself – Prioritize health.

8. Be Authentic – Genuine people stand out.

drunk text to my ex destroyed 5 years of marriage in just one night

https://youtu.be/RfYhzNmg_jo

it sings to itself

Masha Kurbatova

You, my reader, used to do science experiments. Bianca did too. She got a kids’ chemistry set in third grade, and stained her mother’s rug blue with copper sulfate. Her baby safety goggles imprinted pink into her skin; she looked quite funny as Mother fussed about the rug. Mother wanted a freaky-geeky genius kid. She didn’t want the mess.Hunger coiled like a fat worm in Bianca’s stomach then. She fed it with experiments, mud pies, scabbed knees, Mother’s makeup smeared grotesque onto her babyface. But everyone told her (maybe you too) that this wasn’t right. They said the hunger craved love. Romantic love. Kissy love. Bianca believed them. You did too.Childish hunger transitioned to adolescent obsession. She fed herself her own thoughts about boys who flirted, unthinking, with everyone, never meaning what they said. Bianca’s tweenage diary came with a lock, and was bloodied by her glitter pen, pages and pages of love letters scrawled and unsent.She kept up the habit, and Adult Bianca’s gotten good at writing. She enrolled in grad school– science journalism. That makes her parents happy. The science part, at least.But, something’s wrong now. Adult Bianca feels it. You do too. The hunger never goes away. It lies latent in Bianca’s stomach; she tries to not think about it. You too.She goes out with girls from grad school. They bind their boobs in sleeveless crop tops, wear matching stretchy short skirts, and, stinking of drugstore floral perfume, slink between bars, drawn like giggling moths from one light to another. They gripe about being single. They complain about class. Bianca joins in.One night, they look for a speakeasy. It’s not easy to find. Her five friends circle the block six times, searching for the door.“Google maps said it should be right here,” one insists.“I mean it’s a speakeasy. They’re like supposed to be hidden,” replies another.Chicago is smeared with rain, and street lights blot yellow into the night. When lightning crackles, the girls scream. It’s kind of embarrassing.They finally figure it out: that brick-red piss-stinking door is indeed the entry. Their hair smells wet, their mascara leaks, their shirts clump as they shiver into a dark hallway.Further down is the bar. It’s dim. The bartenders wear vests. The walls are wine-red and stacked with framed photos of naked 1920s girls. Millennial hipsters eat that shit up. Google users give this place 4.8 stars.A wooden stage rises a foot high. Tonight, Timmy is playing. The girls huddle around a table spitting distance from the stage. Timmy polishes his trumpet.The jazz band swings under gold dusty light. The girls sip watered-down drinks. Bianca taps to the beat on her sweating glass. She’s bored, and feels bad about that.Timmy’s a cool guy. His short hair is cropped close to his skull. Beige trousers sit above his bony ankles. He is long, loose, jaunty. His fingers bounce like fleas over trumpet keys. Bianca likes the music, though it’s the same old covers, “Autumn Leaves” and all that jazz.“I like the vibe here,” one girl says.“We should come back next weekend,” coos another.They do. For seven straight weeks, they return to the speakeasy. Sometimes, it’s just them. Timmy nods their way from the stage, in recognition. Bianca notices he looks at her longer. He smiles, too. She fills delusional diary pages about that. She spins conspiracies about what it could mean. (Reader, I’ll be honest — he just does that. No reason for it).

Class is alright. The journalism part is. The science labs, the mandatory hands-on component, Bianca stumbles through. I think she’d be quite good — steady hands, a head fit for numbers — but she doesn’t try.

The hunger grows. Bianca can’t ignore it. She wants more. When she’s offered a two-week summer stint reporting on research from Venus, she takes it.

The girls go to the speakeasy the night before she leaves. Bianca leans on the bar with both elbows, begs the bartender to come hither with her eyes, but he’s milling about in the far other corner. Bianca just wants another drink, please, and her friend wants another seltzer also.

The night’s show is done. Timme leans on the bar too. The show’s done. He’s parched.

Inches between them feel electric, but Bianca’s sure only she feels it. Timmy is a trumpet player with a few thousand followers, hardly a celebrity, but still, she feels the shyness of being so close to a star. He smiles, a sweaty nod of recognition.

She must say something. “I loved your show.”

“Thank you. What’s your name?”

“Bianca.”

Timmy raises an open palm to the bartender, who floats over immediately.

“Bianca. I’ve seen you at our past couple shows.”

“Yeah. I’m gonna miss the next couple. I’m going to Venus for a few weeks. I’m doing some reporting for my capstone project.”

“You know they call Venus the planet of love?”

A bit corny, Bianca thinks, but the guy’s got a brand to maintain. The bartender sets an amber glass before him. Timmy wipes his middle finger around and around the rim. He picked that up from film-noirs.

“Well, it’s a shame you won’t be here,” he continues. “We’ll miss you at our shows. Tell me all about Venus when you get back.”

“Um yeah. Sure.”

Timmy smiles so warmly. He follows Bianca back on instagram. He says such niceties that border on flirtations and maybe he is serious. She does have a crush on him, the way we all do on talented people we see regularly and from afar. But what’s the point? She’s going to space.

***

Bianca’s parents are of the Earth-bound generation. Her mother had cried into the phone when Bianca first said she was going to Venus.

“Imagine how happy your grandfather will be!” Mother said so sappily.

Grandpa Steve, a former engineer for an oil company, had spent a lifetime collecting pictures and films and tidbits of quotes and facts and snippets of interviews about rockets. Space travel came too late: by the time it was easy, he was too feeble.

Bianca doesn’t think about him. She feels ungrateful. People break through Earth’s atmosphere all the time nowadays — six of her friends went to space for undergrad study-abroads — and also, her first days on Venus suck. Constant sunlight and a slight change in gravity nauseates the mammal within her. She’s in bed, blinds drawn, choking down vomit.

The atmosphere of Venus is damp, rich-scented like mildew. You can breathe there without equipment. Doesn’t mean you should. The air is peppered with spores; they lodge in lungs and spew poison. Bianca doesn’t know. No one on her team does. Four people — her, the two PhD candidates, the senior researcher — spend their time outside unmasked.

Training begins on Tuesday. Does it make sense to measure Venus’ fast orbit and slow rotation in Earth’s days? I don’t know. In this program, they do. All four team members must report to the main cabin for safety procedures, research protocols. There’s five cabins altogether, used by the rotating groups of students, researchers, and occasional tourists that cycle through the planet each month. The cabins are built with aluminum. Four are for housing, and the main, larger one’s for gatherings, and doubles as the lab. The cabins are but a few feet from each other. Bianca can’t make it that far. She still can’t stand without throwing up.

The PhD candidates, Viv and Tom, are tall, with dry muscles like beef jerky. Their brains are scalpels, slicing through the confusion of flesh and sensation, distilling life into spreadsheet data points. They’re young, but older than Bianca. Perhaps they don’t take her seriously because she’s a baby. Perhaps it’s because she’s only the journalist, tasked with the simplest lab stuff, there mostly to — write? Maybe? Either way, no one cares when she’s not at training.

When her space sickness ceases, it’s day four of fourteen. Time for the team’s first expedition. Viv and Tom wear hiking boots and cargo shorts. They’re joined by the senior researcher, a 4 foot something woman with a face like a walnut and a mind like a nutcracker. Her silver hair is in two braided ropes down to her stomach. The trio stands beside the main cabin, discussing something serious. When Bianca shows up, they fall silent. When they take off, on foot, they let her carry the backpack. Inside are vials, machines, measurement tools. Bianca’s not really sure what else.

Much of Venus is green and fuzzy. There’s acres of forests of fungi. The growths rise as high as Earth’s trees, and are shaped like its stalagmites, green rounded pillars soft and moist to touch. The ground is green too, and Viv and Tom’s boots leave deep prints, like walking on wet sand.

The farther they go, the higher the growth. The sun is soon blotted out by a fungal canopy. They’re in the cool heart of an undisturbed forest.

Out come the steel needles, the vials, the long-wired gauges and gadgets, snatched out of the backpack and pierced into the malleable trunks of the largest fungi. Bianca is glad to stop walking. Those three hike so fast.

She watches them work. She tries to take note of procedures. She’d taken a course in astromycology just last semester, but passed only because she sucked up so much to that professor. She has no idea what Viv and Tom and the researcher are actually doing.

They’ve split apart, Viv descending even deeper, hopping over the protruding dark green mycelia. The researcher is prodding a trunk, her hands peeling away fuzzy, as if she touched mold. Bianca stays behind, near Tom. He’s pretty cute. Bespectacled, with a stubbled chin, because geniuses in space have no time to shave. His clothes are kind of crumpled. His young face is already lined; so much frowning from serious contemplation of serious things. He’s like the math tutor you have a crush on.

Bianca considers starting conversation. But he’s deep in a squat, elbows between knees, bending over a device with a glowing screen, writing down numbers in a notebook. She won’t disturb him. She contemplates the scenery instead. She’ll remember all this for her report, the sensory stuff. She’ll catch up on and fill in the science stuff later.

Gold-amber sunlight streams through in strips, highlighting the spores rising like flecks of dust. How similar this dim light is to that of the speakeasy. She breathes deep, wanting to remember the scent. Millions of the spores that will eventually kill her settle inside her with each inhale.

Now, reader, you surely dream of faraway places. Beaches with white sizzling sands crawling with crabs; sun-bleached ruins of older, wiser civilizations; outer space; all-included B&B; arctic cruise liners; the cool arms of a cool girl who really gets you for you. But it’s you that’s there. With all your gross human petty aches and desires, and your small stupid clouded mind stuffed with stereotypes and preconceived notions. Places don’t really change you. Isn’t that sad?

Bianca feels bad, but she’s bored. Tom’s still doing something. She sits down. She yawns. She hasn’t been sleeping well. She thinks about the bed in the cabin, a creaky and flimsy construction she can’t wait to return to. She thinks about her bed at home. Maybe when she returns, she’ll splurge on one of those mattresses they advertise all the time with the cooling foam and the sleep number. It’s premature to think about Timmy in that bed with her, right? Still, she lingers deliciously on that daydream.

It’s only when they return to the lab that she realizes: sitting down stained her butt green. Viv points it out, gently. They laugh.

Viv: “It’s ok! I sat down on my nephew’s chocolate Easter bunny once. It melted all over my jeans. When I got up, he called me poopy pants!”

They laugh more. As Viv removes filled vials and scrawled-over notebooks from the backpack, and Bianca pretends to help, they assume the easy rhythms of girl-conversation.

Tom comes, holding a test tube rack. Seriousness carves into his face. The girls stop laughing.

“Do you know how to prepare microscope slides?” he asks Bianca.

“Um.”

“I’ll show her,” Viv offers.

The lab is cold, bright, gleaming with glass and fluorescence. Viv flits like a bird between stations, grabbing vials and pipettes. She shows Bianca the slides, the steps. Bianca copies like a clever little monkey. This isn’t even hard. She’ll do all the slides, easy.

Viv trusts her pupil enough, and disappears to her bench. Tom clicks away at his own work. Bianca is concentrating. The slides soon hold small samples of fungus, green and translucent commas atop rectangles of glass.

She’s a real scientist, she thinks. This is what being a kid with chemistry set was like, pure focus, exploration, the excitement of near-discovery like a sneeze begging to be expelled.

“Hey, Tom,” Viv calls out. “You should tell Bianca about the time you ate that poisonous fungus.”

“Shuuuuuut the fuuuuuuuck uuuup,” he yells from his corner. He cracks his first white-teeth smile of the trip.

“Mr. Mycology Expert here,” Viv tells Bianca, meeting her eyes over microscopes, “Was sooo sure he knew what edible mushrooms looked like, and we’re on this research trip all over Europe, right, collecting spore prints, and we find one he says he can eat, but I think is poisonous, but he eats it anyway, and we spend the rest of that trip in the hospital while he hangs on to life by a thread.”

“That’s so scary,” says Bianca. To Tom: “Are you better now at figuring out which fungi are toxic?”

Tom rolls his eyes. “Uh, yeah.”

The flow is now three-way. The trio is chatting, passing the ball of conversation quite easily. A window in the lab shows Venus outside, green and swirling, a promise offered and answered. Bianca is here with her gorgeous scientist friends. The world around her is weird and wild. This is what she sought.

Bianca tells them about Timmy. She doesn’t realize how big her movements get. Arms sweeping, eyes wide with her story. A hand flying too fast: contact with the box of slides. They crash, off the lab bench, and spill. The slides splinter.

Bianca: “Oh, fuck. I’m so sorry. I’ll clean it up.”

Bianca, all panicky, seeks the broom. Her anxious eyes pass by it six times before she spots it in the supply closet. Hot guilt bites her cheeks.

She returns, broom in hand. Tom and Viv are bent over the shards. They giggle. Bianca’s soul slides into her stomach, a high school feeling — they’re laughing at her. She comes closer, but they don’t stop, or look at her.

Reader, you’ve seen lovers. They pull on each other like the taffy machine, stretching a great big confectionery rope over and over and back together. Tom and Viv are doing that thing that neither you nor Bianca can manage: hunger so deep for another person that you ask to be fed by them again and again. Lovers always find something to say, tease about, like puppies biting each other to make the other chase. Here too, on the planet of love, they manage. On Venus as it is on Earth.

***

Two weeks are up. The team is going home, back on the rocket. Bianca is held inside it by x-crossing seatbelts. She’s sat by the porthole. A deep dark lonely cosmos stares at her. She stares back with glazed eyes. Her mind is elsewhere. She imagines talking to Timmy. She composes her monologue for him, not her friends, her parents, or her rocket-yearning grandfather.

Timmy, you know how they used to say Venus was unfit for life? I can’t believe how wrong people were, even just a few decades ago. I mean, I suppose we couldn’t have known for certain. No one had ever been here before. But Venus is more lush than any sliver of jungle we’ve remaining on Earth, but with fungus, not trees. I quite like the fungus. I think you would, too. It loves music, just like you. If you lean in close enough to the roots — sorry, the mycelium — you hear this humming noise. It’s singing to itself, I think. I wish you’d been here with me. You would’ve loved it.

How Bianca is so confident that a man she’s spoken to once would love the peculiar atmosphere of Venus, I’m really not sure.

Oh, right — reader, you’re probably worried about the poisonous spores. They’ve lodged in the crew’s lungs. The moisture of the tissue draws forth mycelia, which soon will sprout into thick fungus that chokes living organs.

Fortunately, “soon” is relative. For mushrooms that live millions of year, a human life span isn’t long. It’s 60 years before the fungus sprouts and is toxic. Viv and Tom and Bianca and the senior researcher die from it, but they would’ve been dead by then anyway.

Maybe you wonder, did Timmy and Bianca get together? I don’t know. You tell me. It doesn’t really matter.

How to Make a Narcissist Miserable – 6 Things They Hate

Today, we’re stepping into a subject that’s as real as it gets: narcissists. These people thrive on control, manipulation, and putting themselves on pedestals. Now, we don’t play games to hurt anyone, but sometimes life demands you to stand firm and protect your peace. If you’re dealing with a narcissist, you’ve got to know how to reclaim your power without stooping to their level.

Let’s talk about six things narcissists hate not to attack, but to empower yourself and show them you’re not to be toyed with.

1. They Hate Being Ignored

Narcissists are masters of manipulation, experts at spinning words and situations to provoke a reaction from you. Their entire game is built around control, and they achieve it by pulling you into their web of drama, conflict, and mind games. They thrive when they can make you doubt yourself, question your worth, or react emotionally to their antics.

But when you choose to disengage to simply not react you throw their entire playbook into chaos. Ignoring a narcissist doesn’t mean you’re weak or indifferent; it means you’re reclaiming your power. They hate being ignored because your attention is their fuel. Whether they’re showering you with false praise or trying to bait you with criticism, their goal is always the same: to keep you emotionally hooked.

When you don’t respond, it’s like cutting off the supply they desperately need. Their tactics whether it’s gaslighting, guilt-tripping, or passive aggression begin to lose their effectiveness the moment you stop feeding into them. Your silence becomes their frustration; your composure, their defeat.

2. They Despise Boundaries

Narcissists loathe boundaries because boundaries represent something they cannot control: your autonomy and self-respect. They thrive on encroaching into your personal space, your emotional territory, and even your sense of self. When you draw a line and stand firm, it sends a message they can’t ignore: This is my space, my rules, and you cannot cross them.

Establishing and enforcing boundaries is one of the most powerful moves you can make, and it’s something narcissists despise. Setting boundaries is not just about saying no to their demands; it’s about making a clear declaration of your values, needs, and limits. It’s about refusing to engage in the toxic dance they try to lead.

3. They Can’t Stand a Lack of Validation

A narcissist’s entire existence revolves around their need for validation. Their sense of self-worth is fragile, and they rely on external praise, admiration, and constant affirmation to prop up their inflated self-image. It’s not enough for them to feel good about themselves; they need others to do the heavy lifting by constantly feeding their ego.

This is where you have an incredibly powerful tool: refusing to validate their ego. When you stop providing them with the constant admiration they crave, you break down the foundation of their self-constructed reality.

4. They Are Threatened by Confidence

Confidence is the armor that protects you from the narcissist’s attempts to diminish your self-worth. It’s not about being loud or overtly assertive; true confidence is rooted in a deep, unwavering belief in your values and abilities. When you possess genuine confidence in yourself, it’s like a shield that the narcissist’s manipulative tactics cannot penetrate.

For a narcissist, confidence is a direct threat. They feed off the insecurity of others, using it to control, manipulate, and belittle. But when you walk into a room with your head held high, unapologetically owning your space, they are faced with a force they cannot manipulate.

5. They Can’t Handle Seeing You Thrive Without Them

One of the most powerful ways to make a narcissist miserable is to show them that you can thrive without them. Narcissists thrive on the belief that they are irreplaceable and that they are the source of your happiness, success, or emotional stability. They love the idea of being the center of your world, controlling your thoughts, actions, and emotions.

But when you start to live your life independently, flourishing without their presence, you challenge their very perception of themselves as essential. Thriving without a narcissist is not just about surviving in their absence; it’s about living in such a way that their absence is barely noticed or even better, it becomes a footnote in your life.

6. They Are Disarmed by Your Calmness

One of the most powerful ways to break free from the hold of a narcissist is by staying calm in the storm. Narcissists thrive on chaos, drama, and emotional upheaval. They rely on triggering your emotions to create confusion, manipulate your reactions, and keep you in a constant state of instability.

But when you learn to stay calm in the storm when you refuse to be rattled by their antics you disarm their ability to control you. Staying calm in the storm isn’t about suppressing your emotions or pretending that things are fine when they’re not. It’s about maintaining control over how you respond to the narcissist’s behavior.

Reclaiming Your Power

At the end of the day, dealing with a narcissist is about taking back control. It’s about recognizing their tactics and not allowing them to manipulate, control, or define you. When you ignore their tactics, establish boundaries, refuse to validate their ego, and remain confident in your self-worth, you are dismantling the power they once held over you.

As you begin to thrive without them showing that your happiness and success don’t depend on their approval you make them realize that they are not the center of your world. When you remain calm in the storm, you create an impenetrable shield around your peace, refusing to be provoked or pulled into their chaos.

Ultimately, it’s not about fighting back or seeking revenge; it’s about rising above, holding your ground, and becoming the best version of yourself. By doing so, you rob the narcissist of their primary source of power: your emotional vulnerability. You become a force that cannot be easily shaken and that, my friends, is how you make a narcissist miserable.

Run For Your LIVES: Russia Activated The World’s Most Powerful and Destructive System ‘PERIMETER’

Shorpy

SHORPY 1956 Ford Fairlane Victoria.preview

The Breaking Point: How Women Are Shattering Men’s Psyche

Needs to be said.

Proof Positive

John K Adams

Howard Marks drove onto the Sequentrix Industries’ lot. He’d successfully passed the security gate. The sun had dipped behind the mountain. It felt like he’d driven forever up endless winding roads. ‘Thank God for GPS.’The unassuming low-rise building built into the hillside was a former Buddhist monastery.He’d been called there but not informed of his purpose. He had lots of questions.Not sci-fi, Sequentrix was the most secure research lab in the world. Most didn’t know it existed. Fewer knew its purpose. Hardly anyone knew its location. Yet its government funding exceeded many better known labs. Sequentrix Industries’ administrators had deep connections to Washington D.C. purse strings and power brokers.Located outside of Denver, no one knew how far their network of tunnels penetrated the mountain. A huge dish antenna gathered transmissions from orbiting satellites and beyond.Knowledgeable people presumed Sequentrix Industries researched bioweapons, or worse. Of course, they had their fingers in that. Its research spanned the range of scientific inquiry from quantum physics and into the cosmos. They had money to do anything they wished.Being a world-class journalist, and feared by the powerful, Howard’s summons there surprised him. Research labs avoid publicity, especially Howard Marks’ brand. He knew how to dig for the truth and how to publicize it. This unsolicited invitation piqued his curiosity.Howard traveled wherever the story led. He uncovered frauds and investigated the veracity of ‘conspiracy theories.’ Known internationally, he exposed conmen, politicians, crooks and cult leaders. No one preying on the public felt safe under his scrutiny. His outstanding work had received many awards.Despite death threats he traveled alone. Body guards are cumbersome and draw attention. ‘Moving targets must move quickly.’ Always on the move, he called his suitcase home.Howard’s encyclopedic knowledge enabled him to shine a light where others didn’t dare. He shredded the veil spun by PR hacks and propagandists. His broad fan base sought his incisive and witty essays in print and on social media. He’d recently appeared for interviews on cable news.“My fans are my family,” said Howard in interviews. He kept his personal life private. His family and past had been erased. Rumors of a girlfriend always proved to be empty speculation.No one knew Howard’s spiritual views. Or that he had any. A famous skeptic, his unsentimental skewering of the powerful made most presume an atheistic bent. Someone seeing him in a church pew wouldn’t consider it evidence of faith. Rather, they’d anticipate his debunking some preacher’s wild-eyed prophesies. A clear-eyed champion of the truth, few considered Howard a seeker of divine guidance.His appointment being scheduled for the evening, Howard knew it wasn’t management’s call. The exterior lights came on as he walked across the nearly empty lot.‘What’s this about? Someone gone rogue?’On entering the lobby, Howard encountered a series of security checks. He got frisked, endured wands, and stood for a full body scan… the usual that any airline traveler puts up with, times twelve. He knew cameras watched every movement. How many spooks stared at how many monitors?He stifled a laugh thinking of those running this gauntlet on a daily basis. ‘Are the toilets monitored?’ He knew the restrooms were. ‘But the toilets? ‘Passing an inspection’ takes on new meaning.’Security personnel were not authorized to answer questions or make conversation. Cordial but impersonal, they efficiently moved each visitor to the next station. A smile or a human response could suggest compromised personnel. The cameras watched them too.He made a mental note. ‘Do story on security training standards and the people hired into this growing industry.’While passing through the final checkpoint, a man in a suit approached.“Hi. I’m Malcolm. I’ll guide your tour this evening.”They shook hands.Howard said, “I have an appointment – with Matthias?”“Yes. We’ll get to him.”Malcolm led Howard down a brightly lit, corridor and pointed at closed doors. He offered vague, but enthusiastic descriptions of what took place behind each.Howard knew such delaying tactics well. He wanted Matthias or someone to explain his purpose there. But he kept his frustration in check. He’d found many great stories at the ends of similar rabbit holes.He had no idea what to expect. Theoretical, or Astrophysics wasn’t a typically scandal ridden. ‘Too many fingers in the cookie jar? Happens all the time.’Malcolm pushed the down button by the elevator door. He and Howard stepped in. Malcolm pushed the B-7 button and stepped out. The doors shut and the elevator descended.Howard hoped this was a good thing.When the door opened, a man in shirt sleeves entered the corridor. Howard saw a bank of super computers in the room behind him.The man said, “I’m Matthias. Follow me.”Howard stopped. “Wait. You’re not Matthias. You’re… Not you again. I told you we can’t work together. No more stories blowing up with my name on them.”He turned to the elevator.“Howard, wait. This will interest you.”“Not if you’re involved.”“It could change the world.”Howard paused and nodded. He didn’t need to like those he worked with. As a rule, he expected to dislike them. His first priority was getting the story.

Matthias led Howard into the computer room.

Howard watched him. ‘Sometimes even bad pennies pay off. Follow the money.’

Matthias pointed and said, “This is the A-Omega-7 Triple Helix computer. It’s dedicated solely to my experiments. Take a look at our most recent results.”

He handed Howard several folders and pointed to a chair at a table. Opening each in turn, the abstracts were eye opening. Two papers analyzed deep space data reaching back to the Big Bang. The other paper’s topics were impenetrable.

Big Bang, entanglement, weak force, quark – Howard knew the words. But what they meant in context bewildered him – a fact he kept to himself.

“You want me to translate this into English?”

“As only you can.”

“I’m not a physicist. Find someone else.”

“You’re the best. And I owe you.”

Howard nodded and thought, ‘You do owe me. But that was long ago. And we were both victims of circumstance.’

Howard admitted to himself the research was over his head. Hoping for clarity, he scanned down to the abstracts’ conclusions.

After each, he looked up in wonderment. Matthias nodded and smiled.

Matthias said, “Each of these would have stunned Einstein. His work implied this but even he didn’t dream…”

“I’m not sure… You have fingerprints…?”

“Not only. If this were a paternity test, we have His DNA, so to speak, His signature on the birth cert and His address.”

Howard couldn’t hide his confusion.

“The upshot… we have proof.” Matthias raised his arms in triumph.

Howard spread the folders across the table. “But of what? What does this…?”

“God!”

“God?”

“Yes! The Creator. The Almighty. Maker of all things… proof He exists!”

Howard scanned the room in awe. He said, “But wait. You need proof? Isn’t it self-evident? Look around…”

Matthias didn’t listen. “Don’t you get it? When other sites replicate our findings, it will be irrefutable.”

“Yeah, but… well… Welcome to the party.”

“So, the reason I called you in – I need to leak this.”

Howard shook his head. “You can’t leak…”

“It’ll get more attention if people think the government is suppressing vital…”

“I cannot write about it, Matthias.”

“Why not? This is completely under wraps. I’m handing you the scoop of the millennium.”

“We’d lose credibility. It’s not news.”

“Even when the results get objectively confirmed?”

“Maybe especially then. You understand the implications?”

“Of course. You must release this. It will change the world.”

“It might end it.”

Now Matthias looked confused.

Howard sighed, “Look, let’s say you’re right about this earth-shattering news. Everyone will claim your work as their sacred scripture. Wars for possession will rage. They’d claim it points to their god.”

Matthias shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way. No one owns this. It’s a matter of who belongs to God, not the other way around.”

“Sure. Right in principle. But we’re talking about humans here. People always create God in their own image. Reduce the sublime to the ridiculous. These documents would become idols to fight over.”

Matthias saw his point. He stepped back, sobbed and wiped his eyes.

Howard continued. “Once published, critics will claim a misplaced comma disproved your evidence. Thrown out because a zero should have been a one.”

“A typo is easily fixed. The results stand. Once vetted and replicated, people will unite around truth.”

“Believers will say ‘you cannot test God,’ or subject Him to proofs. Confining Him in a computer – an abomination… a fool’s game.”

Matthias opened the electrical panel. “My life’s work… Should I destroy it? Have I done something wrong?”

“Relax Matthias. Look. Some people see a magician pull a trick and won’t believe it’s sleight of hand. Others witness some historical event – like the moon landing – and can’t accept it really happened.”

“I called you in. You seek the truth.”

“Thank you for that. But the truth is out there. Everywhere. For everyone. Written in the stars.” He held up a folder. “These bits and bytes will neither convince a doubter nor confirm the believer. We’re throwing noodles, hoping something sticks.”

Matthias paced in frustration. “You think this is meaningless?”

“Of course not. But God doesn’t need our assistance. He needs the faithful. And their faith weighs more than proof.”

Matthias paused. He flipped through the reports.

“What if these discoveries bolstered people’s faith? This might knock some off the right side of the fence.”

Howard considered the question. Vague, unfocused spirituality was ascendant and deep belief had become an afterthought. ‘Thousands of denominations and no one goes to church.’

“You have a point, Matthias. Everyone’s hot to ‘follow the science’ these days. What if science points to, bows to God?”

“That would open some eyes. Hoped you’d see it my way.”

They nodded. Understanding settled in. Howard cleared the table. Matthias brought a legal pad and some pens.

“Coffee?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

“I’ll make fresh.”

Not yet visible, the sun had brightened the sky by the time Howard left the facility and walked to his rental car.

They had a plan. Howard carried a thumb drive containing the essential reports and abstracts of Matthias’ profound discovery. Matthias trusted Howard to leak it at a time of his choosing. He needn’t wait for the results of other site’s vetting of the data.

Howard smiled. The truth has a way of coming to light.

China’s 6th Gen Fighter-What We Know

White House Lacks Financial Literacy – ‘Tariffs’ Show

Presidential Message on National Financial Literacy Month, 2025 – The White House, Apr 1 2025

The foundation of American economic prosperity is a society empowered with the knowledge and tools to make informed financial decisions to achieve the American Dream. …

I welcome that message.

Teaching financial literacy must start at the top. The members of the Trump administration obviously lack the knowledge and tools to make informed financial decisions.

It is the only possible explanation for how they came up with these numbers:

biggerChina does not have a 67% tariff on U.S. goods (it’s 7.3%). The EU does not have a 39% tariff on U.S. goods (it’s 5.2%). The numbers are bollocks.

So where do they come from? The official explanation from the U.S. Trade Representative is here. Its baloney:

James Surowiecki @JamesSurowiecki – 0:22 UTC · Apr 3, 2025Just figured out where these fake tariff rates come from. They didn’t actually calculate tariff rates + non-tariff barriers, as they say they did. Instead, for every country, they just took our trade deficit with that country and divided it by the country’s exports to us.

So we have a $17.9 billion trade deficit with Indonesia. Its exports to us are $28 billion. $17.9/$28 = 64%, which Trump claims is the tariff rate Indonesia charges us. What extraordinary nonsense this is.
…
Even given that it’s Trump, I cannot believe they said “We’ll just divide the trade deficit by imports and tell people that’s the tariff rate.” And then they decided to set our tariffs by just cutting that totally made-up rate in half! This is so dumb and deceptive.
…
.. it’s actually worse than I thought: in calculating the tariff rate, Trump’s people only used the trade deficit in goods. So even though we run a trade surplus in services with the world, those exports don’t count as far as Trump is concerned.

The last point is a major one, for China, but especially for the EU :

EU-US trade in goods and services reached an impressive €1.6 trillion in 2023. This means that every day, €4.4 billion worth of goods and services cross the Atlantic between the EU and the US.
…
The total bilateral trade in goods reached €851 billion in 2023. The EU exported €503 billion of goods to the US market, while importing €347 billion; this resulted in a goods trade surplus of €157 billion for the EU.Total bilateral trade in services between the EU and the US was worth €746 billion in 2023. The EU exported €319 billion of services to the US, while importing €427 billion from the US; this resulted in a services trade deficit of €109 billion for the EU.
…
EU-US goods and services trade is balanced: the difference between EU exports to the US and US exports to the EU stood at €48 billion in 2023; the equivalent of just 3% of the total trade between the EU and the US.

Despite that Trump has decreed a 20% on all goods from the EU. The natural countermeasure from the EU will be to put a 20+% tariff on all import of U.S. services.

Trump also decreed a minimum 10% tariff on imports from every country. Products made by the penguins of the uninhabited Heard and McDonald Islands in the Antarctic will now come with a 10% surcharge.

biggerThere is really no economic reasoning behind these numbers.

Arnaud Bertrand @RnaudBertrand – 4:16 AM · Apr 3, 2025To illustrate just how nonsensically these tariffs were calculated, take the example of Lesotho, one of the poorest countries in Africa with just $2.4 billion in annual GDP, which is being struck with a 50% tariff rate under the Trump plan, the highest rate among all countries on the list.
…
As a matter of fact Lesotho, as a member of the Southern African Customs Union (SACU), applies the common external tariff structure established by this regional trade bloc.
…
So since the tariffs charged by these 5 countries on U.S. products are exactly the same, they must all be struck with a 50% tariff rate by the U.S., right? Not at all: South Africa is getting 30%, Namibia 21%, Botswana 37% and Eswatini just 10%, the lowest rate possible among all countries.

Looking at Lesotho specifically, every year the U.S. imports approximately $236 million in goods from Lesotho (primarily diamonds, textiles and apparel) while exporting only about $7 million worth of goods to Lesotho (https://wits.worldbank.org/CountryProfile/en/Country/LSO/Year/2022/TradeFlow/EXPIMP/Partner/by-country).

Why do they export so little? Again this is an extremely poor country where 56.2% of the population lives with less than $3.65 a day (https://databankfiles.worldbank.org/public/…), i.e. $1,300 a year. They simply can’t afford U.S. products, no-one is going to buy an iPhone or a Tesla on that sort of income…

The way the tariffs are ACTUALLY calculated appears to be based on a simplistic and economically senseless formula: you take the trade deficit the U.S. has with a country, divide it by that country’s exports to the U.S and declare this – falsely – “the tariff they charge on the U.S.”

And then as Trump did in his speech last night, you magnanimously declare that you’ll only “reciprocate” by charging half that “tariff” on them.

As such, for Lesotho, the calculation goes like this: ($236M – $7M)/$235M = 97%. That’s the “tariff” Lesotho is deemed to charge this U.S. and half of that, i.e. roughly 50% is what the U.S. “reciprocates” with.

It’s extremely easy to see why this makes no sense at all.

Lesotho has a comparative advantage over the U.S. as it can dig up and sell diamonds. But it lacks the purchasing power to buy U.S. goods and services. The calculations by the Trump administration ignore those basic facts.

No tariffs were by the way introduced against Belarus, Russia and North Korea. This because of sanction, the U.S. has allegedly no trade relation with them. (Other than buying enriched Uranium for its nuclear power stations?)

Did the Trump administration anticipate how this nonsense will explode in its face?

It is Smoot-Hawley writ large.

Posted by b on April 3, 2025 at 8:53 UTC | Permalink

Comments

Trump anticipating nonsense exploding in his face ?

of course no !

He’s a show runner. he’s never wrong.

Posted by: W | Apr 3 2025 9:01 utc | 1

Hi
I’m in the UK and just bought piston rings from a Greek company.
The EU charged me 30 euro tax and the UK another 30 pounds import duty.
So piston rings could have cost me 70 pounds actually cost 120 pounds roughly.
Trumps logic is right. We have been forced into globalization but ripped off in the process.
Drinks all round on me!
Cheers Oldengineer

Posted by: Oldengineer | Apr 3 2025 9:01 utc | 2

Maybe we really need that war.
Lunacy rules.
God help us.

Posted by: g wiltek | Apr 3 2025 9:05 utc | 3

Well it looks like the shit has eventually hit the fan. Hang on and stay down.

Posted by: drezzo | Apr 3 2025 9:11 utc | 4

I don’t agree with you on this.
We all have to make a choice and America (not Trump per se) has made theirs.
I despise the EU more than I do Trump. They were all happy to go along with the global slaughter and financial jiggery for decades. Now that the jackal has turned on them they have started crying.
And you seem to be going along with this crying.
Where were all these concerns when the EU was happy to go along with Biden/Obama etc?

It’s reverting back to what it always was: the Bear, the Eagle and the Dragon. Plus Israel of course in the background.
What a time to be alive if anything.
Good luck with all of these predictions below and above the line but let’s see what happens next…

Posted by: Skeletor | Apr 3 2025 9:14 utc | 5

Tariffs on an iceberg with population of penguins?

https://t.me/Middle_East_Spectator/17039

Posted by: Mary | Apr 3 2025 9:16 utc | 6

If they are implemented, these tariffs could be one of the earliest expressions of a US retreat from much of the world. Where can Lesotho turn? Hmmm, China and Russia?

Posted by: Squeeth | Apr 3 2025 9:29 utc | 7

Hard to believe that the Trump administration doesnt know the economic impact these tariffs will have. It will tank the market, yes, which means interest rates will have to fall at some point. Which means Trump gets to refinance the debt, from which he probably hopes to kickstart the economy. Or at least the economic numbers. The economic downturn, which he knows is coming anyways, might be kind of a controlled demolition. Do it now and get it out of the way. The dollar has been falling since he took office, dropping fast since the tariffs were anounced. Bessents commentary, quite calmly, that the economy will take a hit because of the tariffs, might be a hint that they know about the effect this has on markets. He talked about the 10 year treasury a lot, and that seems to be going into the direction he anticipated as well. All in all, they might be able to force a reaction of the federal reserve.

So, the tariffs have bean calculated by kabuki measures, agreed. But the effects on markets, interest rates and currency seem to go into the direction that was inteded by the administration.

Posted by: calixtus | Apr 3 2025 9:30 utc | 8

Phew! New Zealand escaped the protectionism somehow…

Posted by: Gerry Bell | Apr 3 2025 9:33 utc | 9

B…

I love ya.

But read the room. Some of us advocate the abolition of the US Federal Government. Trump is trying to occupy middle ground here. He says “Give me a chance, I can fix this.”

Is he correct? Can he fix America? I won’t lose anything by giving him a chance.

Posted by: MaryPeck | Apr 3 2025 9:33 utc | 10

Take care of your health ‘b’ –

As you note – “The numbers are bollocks.”

So one might ask – What is the latently strategic motive behind these bollocky figures? If there is one.

Posted by: Don Firineach | Apr 3 2025 9:36 utc | 11

“The natural countermeasure from the EU will be to put a 20+% tariff on all import of U.S. services.”

It depends on how enslaved EU unelected leadership is. They could try to hurt China together, Eu can also increase tariffs for them. EU was extremely happy when NS was blown up, no one can say their behavior is natural. So far only China has spoken and they “vowed retaliation” if the tariffs are maintained, according to Reuters.

The EU charged me 30 euro tax and the UK another 30 pounds import duty.
@Posted by: Oldengineer | Apr 3 2025 9:01 utc | 2

Move back into EU or make your own pistons. What makes you so superior that you don’t want to pay taxes?

Posted by: rk | Apr 3 2025 9:36 utc | 12

So, the tariffs have bean calculated by kabuki measures, agreed. But the effects on markets, interest rates and currency seem to go into the direction that was intended by the administration.

Posted by: calixtus | Apr 3 2025 9:30 utc | 8

Interesting. A response to post #11- Ta. Dollar down; 10 yr down; market down.

Posted by: Don Firineach | Apr 3 2025 9:43 utc | 13

A few days ago, curious, I asked AI to calculate Chinese tariffs plus other import taxes (VAT etc) on US cars before Trump’s first round of tariffs in 2018. The answer varied depending on vehicle horsepower but basically it came out at 48% on the low end and 110% on the high end – trucks. Also, as Trump mentioned, they factored in currency manipulation.

An industrial programmer in Germany told me that Mercedes Benz makes more money from cars made and sold in China than from cars made and sold in Europe & the West. Why do they build in China? Chinese tariffs make it necessary just as US tariffs will and why about $5 trillion has already been committed for new plant construction.

So the 67% figure for China may not be as outlandish as you portray and is probably not calculated in the slapdash way you imagine.

https://theconservativetreehouse.com/blog/2025/04/03/treasury-secretary-scott-bessent-outlines-details-of-president-trump-tariff-plan/

Features a 10-minute rapid fire interview with SecTreas Bessent; the Trump 2.0 trade and finance team is pretty impressive even if some of the rest of the Cabinet is more iffy.

Posted by: Scorpion | Apr 3 2025 9:43 utc | 14

lol

And i mean FUCKING LOL!

Anyway, back in the real world; the West is committing a genocide, an ongoing genocide, continuing with their NATO-Nazi army in Ukraine, and putting alQaeda head-chopping terorrist as head of state in Syria.

So nobody should be giving any of these motherfuckers the slightest bit of respect in any way whatsoever.

But that’s just my opinion.

Posted by: Keith | Apr 3 2025 9:49 utc | 15

Why are so many blacks inconsiderate, noisy, and demanding?

Stereotypes. Well, this is the way it is in prison, at least. -MM

This is gonna sound racist but I don’t give a fuck because I’ve lived all over the United States so I consider myself well traveled and well cultured.

When it comes to the races of your neighbors first it’s Asians, then white people, then black people, then Mexicans.

The reason I say Asians is because they are always quiet and extremely respectful.

The best neighbors are always the ones you don’t know are there. Then it’s white people sometimes it’s hit or miss because they don’t seem to be good.

I’ve had many white neighbors I have wanted to shoot in the back of the head with a silencer for a variety of reasons, for one they tend to fall into three categories.

First one is that they have this extreme problem with wanting to call the police at any minor inconvenience always think they are the boss, also tend to be racist, second is the trailer park boy types.

The ones who smoke meth and talk about how much they hate people of color, and most of the time they end up being people you don’t really have to ever interact with which is always a blessing.

The black people are almost always consistently the loudest.

They talk the loudest, they fight a lot, they drink a lot, they will rob your ass in a heart beat if they find out what you have inside your house.

have had many black neighbors and even lived with them they are nice people from a distance but you get up close eventually you’re gonna experience a lot of misery.

The reason that Mexicans are last is because they have zero respect for how much noise they make in a public place.

They will be out on their front yard blasting music all night long and drinking alcohol. They do not care at all if you need to go to work in the morning.

Their culture is to be very loud and very annoying. They have large families and they get together every fucking weekend and make all that goddamn noise. This isn’t racism. This is an observable fact.

Some AI generated art

Just some experimental work.

Been trying different engines with the same prompt. End results tend to show a lot of nudes. Some are just overwhelmingly so. So for the purposes of modesty, I just won’t be showing those.

I have absolutely no idea why most of the men are clothed, but the women tend to be topless. I had nothing even resembling that in my prompt.

SDXL 09 Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic organize 0(3)

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Now it’s chocolate: prices hit records as Ghana, Ivory Coast and China cut out Western firms

Trooper

My fiancee received a call from his son saying that a cat had been crying outside their home all night.

He knew immediately after he told me about the call,we would be going over to their house.

When I saw him, my heart was broken.

He was older, skinny and covered with hundreds of fleas.

He tried to walk to us but fell over (not sure if it was from starvation or from all the fleas and bugs swarming him).

His face was also swollen because he had abscessed teeth.

This cat had been declawed and neutered, so at one point in his life he had been an indoor cat.

We did not need anymore fur babies (we have 3 dogs and 2 rescue cats already), but I refused to leave this cat behind.

I slept with him in the spare bedroom and he purred all night.

That morning we took him to our vet.

She told us he was in very bad shape and asked if we wanted to have him put to sleep.

I cried and cried and told her that he deserved a chance to live.

That’s when I named him Trooper (one who does not give up in the face of adversity) and decided to get a second opinion from another vet.

The second vet did say he was in bad shape but did not even mention putting him to sleep (thank goodness).

Trooper was placed on antibiotics and had five of his teeth pulled.

He did not have any diseases that would harm my other cats.

The vet guessed that he was about 15 years old and from the condition he was in, he had not been an indoor cat for many years.

Trooper has brought so much joy to us.

This guy just wants love, affection, food and lots of naps (lol).

We love our Trooper and hope he has many more years with us!

He will never be alone on the streets again!

Trooper;

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How was China able to produce 6th generation fighters years before the US even made a prototype?

Because of the culture of sacrifice.

It’s the greatest honor to sacrifice one’s life for the country in Chinese culture.

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This is the statue of “sword forger” at the gate of Northwestern Industrial University, one of China’s top institutes for industrial and military tech, where the US has reportedly repeatedly try to hack and steal information from.

Nameless, faceless, my knowledge and life for the motherland.

Compare this to what they teach American students: expression of feelings, money and fame…

And this is just tip of the iceberg. Chinese education on the glory for one to sacrifice for the family and nation is everywhere and since childhood.

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Cementary of child soldiers in Yunan. 7000 child soldiers volunteered to defend China’s Southern border with British Burma from Japanese invasion during WWII. About 6000 of these kids were killed in combat. Their story is told across China and every year living kids honor them by stuffing the jars on their statues with candies.

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Deng Jiaxian

Chinese theoretical and nuclear physicist. In 1958 Deng was called upon to carry out classified work, so he disappeared from his family, only to reappear in 1986 in front of his wife and children, finally discharged due to imminent death, bleeding from radiation poisoning.

Thousands of Chinese scientists have chosen this path.

Thousands more are carrying on their spirit today.

You’re suddendly realising this now because of what appears to be China’s technological lead in a field where the US takes great pride in. But this kind of rapid catch-up through sacrifice has been silently going on for decades. And it is far more efficient than for profit weapon developers.

What do you think of retired boomers who are now ultra-frugal because they are scared of going broke, even after saving for decades?

That’s me. I know this fear of going broke is ridiculous. Under current circumstances I can never go broke. Even if we got steady 10% inflation for 30 straight years I couldn’t go broke. I still have this nagging fear though.

All my accounts are still increasing year after year. I still have this fear.

Here’s what I think is really going on.

When your working it is really a strict contractural agreement. You give them time and skills and they give you money.

In retirement checks just keep showing up. My pension, Social Security. Other investment income.

Banks fail. Who knows what the government is going to do. Pension programs fail.

What’s causing my fear is that for my entire life I depended on my effort and skills to survive. Now I have to depend on the solvency, good will, and sanity of others to keep my income. I’m too old to do any income producing work.

So I’m overly frugal. Redundancy on top of redundancy trying to maintain a ‘safe’ income and continue to build up funds.

It drives the people around me crazy.

How Narcissists Really Feel When You Don’t Talk To Them?

Some people need to be talked to all the time. Have you ever stopped talking to someone and then wondered what they were thinking? If you’ve ever been around a narcissist, you may have felt the creepy silence that comes after you try to get away. At first, it might feel like a win a peaceful moment where you’ve taken back your place.

What does the narcissist do when you don’t talk to them? What do they do when no one is looking? You might not believe how complicated and scary the truth is. We’ll talk in-depth about the actions, strategies, and feelings that narcissists have when they hear your silence.

Finding out what happens when you stop talking to a narcissist can be very helpful for anyone who is dealing with them because it can show how desperately they want to get back in charge and how much inner turmoil they often try to hide. If you’ve ever thought about what a narcissist thinks and feels when you don’t talk to them, keep reading to find out.

Trust me, this is something that everyone needs to know, especially if you’re working with someone whose behavior is unpredictable, dishonest, or just plain bad.

Don’t miss the next thing. Let’s start with one of the most important questions: What does a narcissist do when you stop talking to them?

You might think they’ll just move on, get another person to control, or go on with their lives, but things are much more complicated than that. Narcissists are very anxious people, and their actions often show how badly they want to be approved of by others. Cutting them off or not giving them the attention they want makes them feel like they’ve lost something much more important than most people understand.

A narcissist, on the other hand, needs other people to tell them they are important and that they exist. So, when you stop talking to them, they lose more than just a chat they lose the validation that makes them feel better about themselves.

The Narcissist’s Initial Reaction: Panic

The first thing a narcissist is likely to feel when you stop talking to them is a sudden wave of worry. This is because narcissists often think that silence means they are being rejected or left alone. They can’t stand it when people ignore them or leave them out because it makes them question how important they think they are.

What’s really making them upset is their need to be the center of attention and always be praised or feared. Pulling away breaks the false sense of control they’ve worked so hard to keep up.

You may notice that narcissists reply in one of two ways: they either become obsessed with getting your attention again, or they attack you in a full-on way to get you to react. Both of these reactions stem from their weak egos. A narcissist gets all of their self-worth from approval from other people. As soon as you stop interacting with them, they feel less important than they thought, and they often feel like they’re losing control over you.

Manipulative Tactics: Regaining Control

The first thing a narcissist does is panic. Narcissists find your quiet not only annoying but also scary. When you stop talking to them, they’ll probably try to figure out why right away. They will spend a lot of time thinking about what happened and often blame themselves while also blaming you.

They may think: How could they leave me? Do not ignore me—I am very important. This creates a paradox. They want you to come back so badly, but they are also cocky and feel entitled, which makes it hard for them to admit they were wrong or show weakness.

Narcissists often don’t have the emotional growth to show vulnerability, so they won’t be honest about how they feel. Instead, many of them will hide their anxiety by using manipulative behavior. They might say you’re exaggerating or try to trick you by saying you don’t understand what’s going on.

Sometimes they might even act like they don’t care about you, hoping that you will come back to them out of curiosity or from the need to win their love again. Narcissists try to get power back by manipulating and controlling others.

Guilt-Tripping and Emotional Manipulation

People who are narcissists are known for being cunning, and when you stop talking to them, they will often do more to get back in charge. They know that to get your attention, they need to make you feel something.

Some ways they might do this are by making you feel guilty for their pain or by taking advantage of past favors or weaknesses against you. They might say things like, “After everything I’ve done for you, I can’t believe you would do this to me.” This is meant to make you feel like you owe them something.

Narcissists, on the other hand, don’t care about your well-being. In reality, they are just trying to fix their image and power.

Turning Others Against You

They may also try to make your life difficult by saying bad things about you, turning family or friends against you, or even making trouble in your social groups. It’s meant to keep you on edge, mentally worn out, and thinking about them all the time. For this reason, they stay in charge even when they’re not there.

The worst thing for a narcissist is losing their source of approval. People who are narcissists often worry about not being important, useful, or seen. When they don’t get constant praise and support from other people, they feel like they stop existing in the way they’ve always known themselves.

The Narcissist’s Cycle of Behavior

When they see that they can’t get your attention right away, they may pull back, thinking they need to make you miss them. During this time, they will often try to control you from the sidelines, such as through social media posts, indirect messages, or even connections they already have with you.

There are times when the narcissist may act even worse if they realize they have permanently lost control. This could mean smear campaigns against you, hurting your image, or turning others against you. It’s all about proving they are in charge again.

In Conclusion

What do narcissists do when you don’t talk to them? They panic, try to trick you, and then attempt to regain control of your life. They can’t handle being ignored or turned down because it forces them to face insecurity.

But if you know about these tricks, you can better defend yourself against their mental manipulation. Remember that your quiet is your power. When you’re with a narcissist, you don’t have to join their chaos or fall for their tricks. By setting boundaries, you take back control of your life and in the end, the narcissist will lose.

How do car repossessors deal with locked garages, a car in pieces or behind other cars, and driving away or any other common or not so common situations?

I worked as a repo man in North Carolina for a couple of years decades ago. I don’t know if the laws have changed but we could not enter a locked garage or jump a fence with a locked gate. As for finding the vehicle in pieces, it never happened to me but if it had, I would have just reported it to the creditor and I imagine the assignment would end on that particular vehicle.

One overriding principle was that repossessions have to remain “peaceable”. If a debtor caught us at it and started raising hell, we had to stop. That would buy the debtor time to either make arrangements with the creditor or to either secure the vehicle behind a locked door/gate or park it in some unknown location. It didn’t mean we would stop looking for it unless the creditor called us off.

The sneakiest thing I can remember is when I was looking for a Cadillac up in the mountains. I located a Cadillac at the debtor’s address, but the VIN was wrong on the car. Bummer. Couldn’t take it. Had to drive all the way back to Charlotte empty handed.

Some research revealed that the debtor’s brother lived in the same town as the debtor, and wouldn’t you know: he drove a Cadillac too! When I drove to the brother’s house, I was able to snatch the Cadillac with the correct VIN right out of his garage, because he left the garage door open. Naturally, this happened around 0300 when everyone’s asleep. That’s how we kept the repo peaceable.

Anyway, that’s how we did it in North Carolina back in the 1980s. Other states have different laws.

Savory Roasted Chicken

Yield: 4 to 6 servings

Ingredients

1 (3 to 4 pound) broiler-fryer chicken
1 medium potato, cut into 1/2 inch cubes
1 medium onion, sliced into 8 wedges
2 medium carrots, sliced 1/2 inch thick
1 garlic clove
1 tablespoon olive oil
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme leaves
1/2 teaspoon dried rosemary, crushed
Salt and ground black pepper to taste

Instructions

Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
Rinse chicken; pat dry with paper towels. Place chicken, breast-side up, in 13 x 9 inch baking dish or roasting pan. Arrange potato, onion and carrots around chicken.
In small bowl, combine garlic, oil, thyme, rosemary, salt and pepper; brush over chicken. Pour water over vegetables.
Bake, uncovered, 1 hour to 1 hour 15 minutes or until meat thermometer inserted into thickest part of thigh, not touching bone, registers 180 degrees F.
Remove from oven; let stand, covered, 10-15 minutes before carving.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

I’m EXPOSING the Whole Damn Thing! – Richard Wolff

What do you think about the video of China’s 6th generation fighter jet taking to the skies for the first time?

It’s no secret that the USAF is the #1 Air Force in the world, consistently staying several steps ahead in military tech research. However, China is catching up—and at an astonishing pace. What’s even more remarkable is their willingness to pour seemingly unlimited funding into military technology development. The result?

Reports suggest that China has successfully tested a sixth-generation stealth fighter jet, with videos of the aircraft going viral on social media. If these videos are genuine, we’re looking at a state-of-the-art warplane that demonstrates impressive indigenous innovation. This is significant because it remains a mystery to the West—a clever move that serves as both a morale boost for China and a stark wake-up call for US-led NATO alliances.

This progress would have been unthinkable in the 1980s or 1990s, and even in the early 2000s, China lagged far behind NATO, let alone the USA. But now, the balance of power has begun to shift. Dare I say, China is producing military advancements that NATO can only dream of, leaving Pentagon think tanks worried about the implications of this rapid evolution.

What truly sets this new fighter jet apart is its futuristic “wingless” design—a revolutionary leap in aerodynamics and stealth technology. Watching it in motion is almost surreal, as if plucked straight from a sci-fi film. Its sleek, streamlined structure and cutting-edge manoeuvrability not only make it visually stunning but also highlight a level of engineering that challenges traditional concepts of military aviation. This isn’t just a step forward; it’s a glimpse into the future of air combat. Step aside Uncle Sam, The Chinese Dragon has arrived 😎🐉

What was the strangest cultural thing you have experienced as a foreigner/visitor in the United States?

That it’s just such an appalling place to live. No, really – having lived in different countries I can honestly say that the USA is an appalling place to live.

Everything is monetised
Police are ready to shoot you to death at the drop of a hat
TV is unwatchable due to the ridiculous proliferation of advertisements
Food is low quality and flavourless (you get to choose between salty or sweet. That’s it)
Public transport is a joke
Everything is a method of ripping you off
Politics is hyper polarised
The police are simply bullies with no oversight who do whatever they want including commit crimes and murder
Infrastructure is a crumbling mess and poses a real danger to the public
Every town looks the same – a collection of the same fast food joints, stores and strip malls
Toxic waste is kept in above-ground open-air pools. And when it rains a lot those pools overflow and the toxic waste goes with it. Seriously. Check it out for yourself
You aren’t seen as a person but as a consumer, with a wallet that needs to be emptied
The tipping culture is offensively entitled – you are literally expected to just give away your money to a stranger for doing the job they’re already paid to do. And if you receive shitty service and decide not to tip, or if you can afford to eat out but not afford to give away your money to a stranger for no reason, *YOU’RE* seen as the bad guy. Entitled narcissistic selfishness like you’ve never seen before
Not just the vehicles and the houses/buildings, but everything is low quality. It’s like a disposable culture
The fetishisation of the military and the police force – if somebody chooses to kill strangers for a living it’s bad, but if they’re wearing a uniform while they do it you’re expected to simper and gush and worship them and say “thank you for your service” like a drone
The amount of their GDP they waste on their military while essential public services like schools and hospitals and fire departments and infrastructure go neglected. This is something banana republics and tinpot dictators do
The utter lack of concern for their out of control gun problem. Every year 3500+ children are killed with guns and the predominant attitude is “yeah well that’s just a fact of life” when literally no developed nation has this problem, ONLY the USA
The general complete ignorance about the rest of the planet
The utter lack of curiosity to learn about the rest of the planet
The diminishing of the middle class, and the reluctance to acknowledge it

Women are Delusional and Men are Disenfranchised

The asshole neighbor who loved his grass.

When I was growing up in the small town of East Brady, PA we had a neighbor that lived up the hill from us.

He was a reclusive sort.

I guess, friendly enough, but kind of rude.

And the reason why I say this is that every time we had friends over for a backyard BBQ; a little outing in our back yard, he would burn mounds of (cut lawn) grass in a large oil drum that would send thick whitish – grey smoke onto our gathering…

Each, and every time.

Every single FUCKING time.

Every…

…single…

…time.

Knowing what I know now, as a much older and experienced man, I dare say that I would be more proactive than my blue-pilled father. I get it, maybe I would, and maybe I wouldn’t, Who knows how I would react and what actions would I take if I were in my father’s shoes?

But one thing is a truth.

Our neighbor was intentionally rude, and being intentionally rude is very, very wrong. It is socially unacceptable. It is a sign of something being amiss, and suggestive of being mentally ill to some extent.

Anyways…

Guys, pay attention to those that intentionally and continuously harass you; belittle you or who are rude to you.

Distance yourself, and come up with strategies on how to deal with them.

Serious talk.

Listen to me.

Today…

Blushing Berry Pie

Yield: 8 servings

Ingredients

1/2 packet frozen ready-rolled piecrust defrosted
1 pound fresh strawberries, divided
4 ounces white chocolate, broken into squares
1 lemon
2 teaspoons powdered gelatin
1 (8 ounce) package full fat soft cheese, softened
1 (8 ounce) carton crème fraîche
5 tablespoons lemon curd
2 ounces icing sugar
8 ounces fresh raspberries

Instructions

Heat oven to 400 degrees F. Let piecrust stand at room temperature for 15 minutes.
Place pastry round in Deep Dish Pie Plate. Gently press dough into bottom and up sides of plate using Baker’s Roller™. Prick bottom and sides of pastry case using pastry tool; decoratively flute edge.
Bake for 20 to 22 minutes or until golden brown.
Cool completely.
Rinse strawberries and pat dry. Select 8 uniformly-sized strawberries for decoration. Slice each strawberry in half using Paring Knife, leaving stems on each half; set aside. Hull remaining strawberries using Cook’s Corer™; slice using Egg Slicer Plus™.
Place white chocolate in Large Micro-Cooker®. Microwave on HIGH 1 minute; stir every 20 seconds or until melted and smooth. Dip strawberry halves in melted chocolate; place cut-side down on a sheet of Parchment Paper.
Refrigerate for 15 minutes or until set.
Meanwhile, spread remaining melted chocolate over bottom of baked pastry using Skinny Scraper. Layer sliced strawberries over bottom of crust; set aside. Finely zest lemon using Lemon Zester/Scorer; set aside. Juice lemon using Juicer. Add cold water to juice to measure 3 1/2 fl ounces. Place lemon juice mixture in Small Batter Bowl. Microwave on HIGH 30-50 seconds or until liquid is hot but not boiling. Sprinkle gelatin over hot liquid; whisk until dissolved. Cool slightly.
Combine soft cheese, crème fraîche, lemon zest, lemon curd and icing sugar in Classic Batter Bowl; mix until smooth. Add dissolved gelatin; whisk until smooth using Stainless Steel Whisk. Spread cheese mixture evenly over strawberries. Arrange raspberries evenly over top of pie filling. Place dipped strawberry halves around edge of pie.
Refrigerate 30 minutes.
Serve using Slice ’N Serve®.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Musk Warns “America Is Headed For Bankruptcy SUPER FAST!”

Fun Comix

Inspiration in the Park

Submitted into Contest #283 in response to: Write a story with the line “I wasn’t expecting that.”… view prompt

John Steckley

The wooded area in the local park was my favourite place to go to when I was but a lad, living a short walk away. I spent many hours on my own there, but I did not for a second feel that I was alone. I felt welcomed there every time. The trees were my best friends, particularly the cluster of cedars.In fact it was a place that gave me confidence in myself. When I was ten years old, I felt the attraction of becoming a writer. No one knew that I had that feeling, certainly not any family members or friends. And when I went to the park, ideas for stories appeared to me beginning with blue waves of beginning words appearing in my head. They initiated tales about aliens in my head.I received no support from my English teachers. Several of them demonstrated with their commentary that they did not even like what I had written. They said that my stories were way too unreal, too far-fetched to have anyone accept the basic premises they were based on. Fortunately, although that shocked me at first, I learned to ignore their commentary. I am so glad I did.I would have never been published if I had taken their negativism for truth. I submitted my first story to a local newspaper in my small town. It was for the Christmas issue. I came up with an idea for a kind of supernatural story after taking a walk in what would become my inspiration place. I did not tell my English teacher of the time, even though he encouraged his students to enter the contest, offering to make suggestions before they submitted their piece. I was not going to let him insist that I make changes in it, and generally put my work down. He did not like that I only wrote stories about aliens. I liked the story just as it was. And I was not the only person to do so. The editor of the paper loved it, and published it the week after the contest had ended. I even received some money for the piece, and I was termed the ‘winner’ of the contest, even though several of the other stories were published as well – none of them written by my fellow high school students. My English teacher of the time did not comment in class when school opened up again in January. Later I heard two teachers talking about the fact that he had submitted his own short story, but had not been published. When they thought that I wasn’t looking and listening (I have very good hearing), they pointed at me and one of them said, “That boy over there was the winner.”After I graduated from high school, I applied for the English Literature program. They accepted me, certainly not because of my marks from my always always critical teachers, but because I had won the contest, and had since published several short stories in several literary magazines, all of them about aliens, and all inspired by trips to the park. I would have no idea what I was going to write about until I was in my special part of the park. Once there, voices inside me started my stories. Nowhere else did that for me.My First BookIn the summer after my initial year of university, I wrote my first book. To no surprise to me, my family and my friends, it carried a story of the presence of aliens on earth. It was easier to write such a long work than I ever thought it would be. My summer job was in a factory not far away from the park of my inspirations. I could and did walk to it in my lunch break, always carrying a pen and paper to copy down the ideas about the story that would come to me as I sat on a stump and ate the lunch my mother had prepared for me. Pretty much every day I had to finish eating my mom’s sandwiches while walking back to work. And her sandwiches are great! The ideas that flowed into my head took precedence.That book became a series about a particular group of aliens. By the time that I graduated with my English Literature degree, there were four books in the series. The last one was the longest, and was very much the hardest one to stop writing. I stayed in the park overnight, because I could not walk away from my source of inspiration.Another series began and ended in graduate school, this time with four books. More nights were spent in the park. I brought a tent, which when not used I hid in the underbrush.When I graduated I soon applied to and received a teaching position at a high school in town, but not the one with the English teachers that undervalued my work. I did not want to have anything to do with them.I soon became known as the ‘Find a Place’ professor, as I told my students about how the place I had found had been such an influence on all of my writing. A good number of my students tried to find their own place for writing inspiration. It helped some of them, one of whom said to me with some excitement as he walked, almost skipping, into the classroom ‘it worked, it worked’. Not one have published as yet, but I think that it is just a matter of time before a few of them do.Seeking a VisionIt has been a while now since I have done any writing. But that should not be a surprise to me, as I haven’t been able to get to the park in over a month. I have had to spend a lot of time marking, and being with my newly-married wife. She knows about my link with the park, and has suggested a few times that I should go there, but I thought that I should dedicate my ‘spare time’ with her in the early days of our being married.

Then she insisted. The timing was right. I had sat at my desk at work, and my desk at home with no results in writing: sentences written were soon crossed out. I had a strong desire to go to the park and be inspired.

I walked into the park, the cedars blowing in a slight wind as if they were waving me hello. I looked up at their uppermost branches, which had earlier been a guaranteed inspiration. Words appeared in my mind, and I had an inspiration to write another alien story, maybe even a book. I began writing. Then I felt compelled to look up once more. I could not believe my eyes. There were shadowy blue creatures near the top of the trees, aliens obviously. I was not expecting that.

NOW Neocons Are READY: Make Taiwan The Ukraine Of Asia

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Monkey Mayhem

Ah, greetings once more, dear reader. It seems you can’t get enough of my tales of bravery, wit, and sheer genius. Who could blame you? Life on this farm is a never-ending parade of absurdity, and I, Sir Whiskerton, am the only one keeping it from descending into complete anarchy. Today, I shall regale you with a story of chaos, hilarity, and an unexpected visitor who turned our world upside down. This is the tale of The Monkey Mayhem—a case that involved bananas, a harmonica, and far too much swinging from barn rafters. Buckle up.

The Arrival

It began, as most of my troubles do, with an ear-piercing commotion. I was enjoying a peaceful nap in the shade of the big oak tree when I heard the animals shouting.

“WHAT IS THAT THING?!” Harold the rooster squawked, his feathers puffed up in alarm.

“It’s got FINGERS!” cried Henny Penny, flapping her wings as if the sky were falling (again).

“Is… is it supposed to be here?” asked Betty the sheep, blinking in confusion.

I groaned, stretched, and reluctantly padded over to the source of the chaos. The animals had gathered in a tight, nervous circle near the barn, their eyes wide as they stared at… something. When I pushed my way to the front, I saw it.

A monkey.

Yes, a monkey. Small, with a mischievous grin, fur as brown as the barn walls, and long arms that seemed perfectly designed for causing trouble. He was sitting on top of an overturned bucket, casually peeling a banana. Around his neck hung a harmonica, which he blew into every few seconds, producing a jaunty, if slightly off-key, tune.

“Who on earth are you?” I demanded, my green eyes narrowing.

The monkey looked at me, tilted his head, and grinned wider. “Name’s Banjo,” he said, in a voice that was far too cheerful for my liking. “Just passing through. Nice place you got here.”

“Passing through?” I repeated skeptically. “This is a farm, not a circus.”

“Funny you should mention that,” Banjo said, hopping onto the fence in one fluid motion. “I was part of a circus. But I got bored. Too many rules, you know? So I broke out. Figured I’d see the world.”

“And you landed here?”

“Yup!” He blew a quick, jaunty tune on his harmonica and tipped an imaginary hat. “Thanks for the hospitality!”
The Chaos Begins

From the moment Banjo arrived, life on the farm descended into chaos. He had absolutely no respect for the unwritten rules of farm stability, and within hours, he had everyone in a frenzy.

Rule #1: The barn is for resting, not playing.

Banjo turned it into his personal playground. He swung from the rafters like a furry acrobat, scattering hay everywhere and startling poor Bessie the cow so badly that she tipped over her water bucket.

Rule #2: The chicken coop is off-limits to outsiders.

Banjo ignored this completely. He waltzed into the coop, harmonica in hand, and serenaded the hens with a tune so lively that they started clucking and flapping in what could only be described as a chicken dance. Harold was furious.

Rule #3: Don’t touch Farmer Joe’s tools.

Banjo not only touched them—he rearranged them. Farmer Joe’s neatly organized workbench was left in complete disarray, with wrenches hanging from the barn rafters and a hammer inexplicably balanced on top of a weather vane.

The animals came to me, as they always do when things go wrong.

“Whiskerton, you have to do something!” Henny Penny begged.
“He’s turning the barnyard into a circus!” Harold squawked.
“He… he ate my carrots,” Porkchop the pig sniffled, looking thoroughly betrayed.

I sighed. “Fine. I’ll talk to him.”

The Confrontation

I found Banjo sitting in the middle of the pasture, playing a soulful tune on his harmonica while balancing on one hand. A small crowd of animals had gathered to watch, their annoyance starting to give way to curiosity.

“Banjo,” I said, approaching him with my usual air of authority. “We need to talk.”

He flipped onto his feet and gave me a cheeky grin. “What’s up, Whiskers?”

“It’s Whiskerton,” I corrected, my tail flicking irritably. “And what’s up is you disrupting the farm. This place has rules, and you’re breaking all of them.”

“Rules?” Banjo said, scratching his head. “What’s the fun in rules?”

“Rules are what keep this farm running,” I said, my voice firm. “Without them, everything falls apart.”

Banjo shrugged. “Seems like everyone’s still standing to me. Besides, I’m just trying to liven things up. You ever notice how boring this place is?”

“Boring?” I echoed, offended. “This farm is perfectly balanced. It doesn’t need ‘livening up.’ It needs peace and order.”

“Peace and order, huh?” Banjo said, grinning. “Alright, let’s make a deal. If I can prove that a little chaos isn’t such a bad thing, I get to stay. If not, I’ll leave.”

I glared at him. I didn’t trust him, but I couldn’t resist a challenge. “Fine. But if you lose, you leave without complaint.”

“Deal!” Banjo said, shaking my paw enthusiastically. Then he blew a triumphant note on his harmonica and scampered off, leaving me wondering what I’d just agreed to.

The Monkey’s Plan

Over the next day, Banjo set out to prove his point. He organized a series of absurd activities that left the farm in an uproar—but, annoyingly, also brought a surprising amount of laughter.

He convinced the pigs to play a game of tug-of-war with an old rope, which ended with everyone falling into the mud and laughing hysterically.
He taught the chickens a synchronized dance routine, complete with harmonica accompaniment, which had even Harold grudgingly tapping his talons.

He turned the hay bales into a makeshift obstacle course, challenging the animals to races that left everyone cheering.

By the end of the day, the farm was a mess, but it was also filled with an energy I hadn’t seen before. Even I had to admit, begrudgingly, that Banjo’s antics had brought the animals closer together.

The Happy Ending

That evening, as the sun set over the farm, Banjo found me lounging on the barn roof.

“Well?” he said, sitting beside me. “Did I prove my point?”

I sighed. “You caused chaos. But… you also brought the animals together. I suppose there’s a place for a little fun, as long as it doesn’t disrupt the farm completely.”

Banjo grinned. “Does that mean I can stay?”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine. But only if you promise to follow the rules. Mostly.”

“Deal!” he said, holding out his paw for a high five. Reluctantly, I swatted it.

And so, Banjo stayed on the farm, his harmonica tunes becoming a familiar sound in the barnyard. The farm found a new balance—one that included a little chaos, a lot of laughter, and, of course, me keeping everyone in line.
The Moral of the Story

Sometimes, a little chaos is exactly what you need to remind you of what really matters: friendship, laughter, and the joy of trying something new. Just don’t let it interfere with my nap schedule.

The End.

Woman ARRESTED After Committing PATERNITY FRAUD!—Instant Consequences!

Almost all of China’s debt is owned by domestic organizations. Can you speculate if the central government can’t pay its obligations?

Total Debt held by Chinese National Government and backed by PBOC as on 30/9/24 = ¥ 64.77 Trillion

Annual Interest on National Debt = ¥ 1.38 Trillion

Total Debt held by Local Governments (Prefecture, Provincial & Country) and backed by PBOC as on 30/11/2024 = ¥ 6 Trillion

Total Debt held by Local Governments (Prefecture, Provincial & Country) and not backed by PBOC but by the local state agencies = ¥ 25.36 Trillion

Total Debt held by Government of China and backed by the PBOC = ¥ 70.77 Trillion

Total Debt held by Local state agencies in China = ¥ 25.36 Trillion

Total Debt held by all Public Agencies in China = ¥ 96.13 Trillion

Gross Domestic Product of China (2025) Estimated = ¥ 135 Trillion

Total Debt as Percentage of GDP = 71.20%

Total Interest paid on Debt by PBOC = ¥ 1.38 Trillion + ¥ 141 Billion = ¥ 1.49 Trillion

So as you can see – the State Agencies in China – in counties and prefectures owed around 31.36 Trillion Yuan of Debt

Of this the National Government and PBOC have brought 6 Trillion Yuan under their umbrella by buying out 6 Trillion Yuan of Local Debt and replacing it with National Debt on a 1:1 swap in November

So around ¥ 25.36 Trillion Yuan is held by State Agencies not backed by the PBOC which pay a collective interest of ¥ 827 Billion a year

Assuming this entire debt is defaulted and the PBOC will assume the debt , that’s still only ¥ 2.317 Trillion of Debt which is only 19% of Revenue and 9.6% of Expenditure

Corporate Debt of China & Institutional Debt = ¥ 218.49 Trillion

This is the debt owned by Chinese Companies to their Government and Banks and People

The Assets owned and controlled by then = ¥ 436 Trillion

Total Revenue generated by Corporate and Institutional China = ¥ 40.88 Trillion

So even today Asset to Debt Ratio for Corporations and Institutions in China is only 50%

By contrast it is 87% in Korea, 81.2% in Japan

Total Institutional and Corporate Debt = 5.344 Years Revenue

It’s very close to Japan (5.108 Years) and Korea (5.206 Years)

With such a strong position, the Chinese Government can easily pay its obligations.

Cool Mint Pinwheel Pie

Yield: 12 servings or 16 sample servings

Ingredients

1/2 (15 ounce) package refrigerated pie crust (one crust)
3 (1.5 ounce) bars milk chocolate
8 ounces cream cheese, softened
1 (12 ounce) container frozen whipped topping, thawed, divided
1/2 cup milk
1/2 teaspoon peppermint extract
Green food coloring (optional)
1 (3.3 ounce) box white chocolate instant pudding and pie filling

Instructions

Heat oven to 425 degrees F.
Place pie crust in Deep Dish Pie Plate, gently pressing dough into bottom and up sides; prick bottom using Hold ‘N Slice.
Bake for 10 to 12 minutes or until golden brown. Cool completely on Nonstick Cooling Rack.
Break into small pieces and place in Small Micro-Cooker. Microwave, uncovered, on HIGH for 1 minute, stirring after each 10 second interval until chocolate is melted and smooth. Do not overheat. Spread half of the chocolate over bottom and sides of prepared crust; set aside.
Pour remaining chocolate onto Parchment Paper; immediately spread into a 6 inch circle using Skinny Scraper. Place Parchment on chilled Chillzanne Platter for 1 to 2 minutes, or until chocolate is firm and surface is dry to the touch. (Or, place chocolate on Cutting Board and refrigerate 15 minutes.) Do not allow chocolate to cool too long or it will crack when cut. Remove parchment from Platter and place on Cutting Board. Using Crinkle Cutter, cut chocolate circle into 12 even wedges but do not remove from parchment. Continue chilling on Platter until chocolate is set.
In Classic Batter Bowl, microwave cream cheese on HIGH for 30 seconds until softened; whisk until smooth using Stainless Steel Whisk.
Fill Easy Accent Decorator with 1 cup of the whipped topping; set aside for garnish. Add remaining whipped topping, milk, peppermint extract and food coloring to Batter Bowl; whisk until smooth. Add pudding mix and whisk vigorously until mixture is blended and very thick. Immediately spoon filling into crust; spread evenly using Large Spreader.
Pipe 12 rosettes around edge of pie. To remove chocolate from Parchment, slide Large Spreader between chocolate and Parchment, gently separating triangles. Place one triangle, with point toward center, against each rosette, forming a pinwheel pattern.
For a colder serving temperature and easier slicing, chill 30 minutes.
Serve using Slice ‘N Serve.

Nutrition

Per serving: Calories 320, Total Fat 20g, Saturated Fat 13g, Cholesterol 25mg, Carbohydrate 30g, Protein 3g, Sodium 250mg, Fiber 0g

Attribution

Posted by FootsieBear at Recipe Goldmine 6/15/01 2:42:17 pm.

Pampered Chef

Is there a plane that can be purchased on the open market that resembles a fighter jet?

Fighter jets don’t sell very well due to the fact that most have just one seat. The ones that have two seats are filled with so much weapons wizardry that a WIZO or Wepons Systems Officer (a non pilot) is needed to manage that aspect of the mission.

What you should be looking for are the trainer versions of these fighters that have two seats, so that the experience can be shared.

For example the most iconic collectable fighter, the P-51, comes rather inexpensively, unless it’s the “D” varrient that was fitted with a gun camera behind the pilot. That model is worth twice as much because the camera, if it is still there, can be removed, and the space converted to a second seat. If you find an airwworthy P51-D, expect to pay upwards of $1,000,000 for it.

On the lesser expensive side there are numerous foreign aircraft available from cash strapped countries that got them from the USA but for whatever reason the parts and support was cut off and they are languishing in the dessert somewhere.

Lastly, understand that the US generally does not dispose of any models that are still in use in order to preserve spare parts for the active fleet. For example just 40%of the A-10 s d

Ever built are airworthy at the moment. The rest are reposting at the Davis Monthan AFB in AZ ready to supply parts for those that are still flying.

~ Mike Heaton

Leftover Dreams: Materialism and Unrealistic Standards Among China’s Older Single Women

https://youtu.be/tTARmrwdNP0

All the Time in the World

Submitted into Contest #283 in response to: Write a story that ends with a huge twist.… view prompt

Patti Pierucci

By Patti A. Pierucci

(Author’s Note: The protagonist of this story, Dr. Anton Mellick,

also appears in the author’s full-length book The Hand of Maud.)

“There are really four dimensions, three which we call the three planes of Space,

and a fourth, Time.”

H.G. Wells, The Time Machine Mrs. Russell gave three quick taps on the door, then opened it and stuck her head in. “I’m leaving now, doctor. I left a pot of soup on the stove for you,” she said with a slight wave of her hand. “Good night; see you on Monday.”

“Alright, then. See you in the morning.” Anton Mellick—Ph.D., chairman of the Physics Department at Silverleaf Institute of Science, professor emeritus of physics at Mount Sterling University, and author of The Clockwork Chronicles: Black Holes, Wormholes, & The Space-Time Continuum—was standing in his office, a small room attached to the front of his expansive laboratory building, when Mrs. Russell, his housekeeper, poked her head in to say good night. He heard her footsteps clack-clacking outside on the pavement, then the car door opening and shutting, then the engine starting, then her car driving away.

Mellick had an ideal laboratory for his experiments. He had constructed a large, industrial-sized building behind his home. It took several months and contentious meetings with town officials to get a zoning variance and building permits to erect a structure this large, sixty feet square made of high-tensile steel and a flat, metal roof twenty feet high. There were no windows—to obstruct prying eyes.

It will be an eyesore, the neighbors had objected. A monstrosity, they told the town officials. So, in the interest of preserving neighborhood harmony—as well as his privacy—he agreed to construct a fence to shield the neighbors’ easily offended eyes from his lab. He had refused to back down on using steel in its construction, though. He needed the entire facility to be fireproof, just in case.

As soon as Mellick heard Mrs. Russell’s car driving away, he walked toward the door at the rear of his office, unlocked it—he always kept it locked—opened it, and stepped into his laboratory. In the center stood his Chrono Navigator. He had refused to call it a time machine; that was a name coined by H.G. Wells and used ad nauseum in movies and books ever since Wells’s book, The Time Machine, was first published in 1895. Mellick had almost called his time machine the Flux Capacitor as a wink-wink homage to the Back to the Future films but thought that would be too playful for so serious a machine.

The doctor considered The Time Machine to be a brilliant tale of time travel, an exciting story filled with action, romance, weighty significance, and a hopeful ending. But Wells’ description of how his time machine worked was utterly ridiculous—not that he blamed H.G. Wells, not in the least. Wells had conjured up a vivid description of his time machine. “I gave it a last tap, tried all the screws again, put one more drop of oil on the quartz rod, and sat myself in the saddle,” Wells wrote. “I took the starting lever in one hand …” Yes, Wells’s account of time travel was a spellbinding tale when it first landed in readers’ hands, yet no one actually believed in time travel. They didn’t know that time travel, at least in theory, was real. Wells, a scientist and visionary, didn’t know it, either. He had imagined the entire thing. It was science fiction back then, nothing more. Then, a mere decade later, comes Albert Einstein and his Theory of Relativity.

Mellick had devised a simplified, almost childlike, presentation to describe time travel to those who expressed interest. Few expressed interest, though. Most laughed at him, and he was the target of ridicule among the community of physicists he chaired at the university. Yes, he was the department head, and they answered to him, but they mocked him endlessly. “Glad to see you this morning,” commented one of the professors, Dr. Rudolph Whitaker, just the other day. “I expect one day you’ll just disappear into the future, and we’ll never see you again. Say, Anton, if you could somehow get a message to me about what stocks to pick, I’d be so grateful.” And then he had laughed, and his colleagues had laughed, and Mellick joined in, too—just to show he had a good sense of humor.

But it wasn’t funny. It was his life’s work. And it was real, he knew it.

Come to think of it, only children found his explanation believable. They had a fascination with what others called fantasy. So, on those occasions when Mellick was asked to speak to school children, he would explain it this way: As a person move faster through space, time slows down compared to a person who is not moving. If you could travel at speeds close to the speed of light, time would pass so much slower for you than for people on Earth, and you could travel into the future. Theoretically, of course. Then he would add a fact or two about wormholes. A wormhole, he would tell them, is a shortcut through space-time. Traveling through a wormhole could allow you to move even more quickly between two different times.

Of course, there’s a lot more to it than that, but why confuse their little brains? They only want to hear how exciting it could be to travel through time. “Could you go back to the year Hitler was born and kill him as a baby?” All the children ask this question. The moral dilemma of killing babies pre-emptively to prevent them from growing up to be killers never enters their ghoulish minds. But, he reminded himself, at least they listen to him and want to believe.

Now he stood before the Chrono Navigator. He didn’t want to waste time. With Mrs. Russell gone, he was on his own for the weekend and had the rare opportunity to experiment on himself as often as possible. He had failed dozens of times to move objects, including himself, even a few seconds back or forth in time. At first he had tried putting common things—first a stapler, then a toaster, then dozens of other insignificant objects, then finally himself—inside the chamber, setting the timer for minutes into the future. Then he tried to reverse it and go back in time by a few minutes.

All of them failed.

But for the past three years he had worked on refining the two laser lights on either side of the chamber. Previously, Mellick had constructed the lights to move in a straight line toward each other, filling the chamber with light. But when that didn’t work, he realized he needed the light to be moving, so he created circulating beams of laser light. The rotation of the light should twist space-time to make a loop of time. Theoretically.

Mellick looked at his machine and smiled. He was exhilarated. His heart beat faster, and his hands trembled as he placed protective glasses over his eyes. This would be the first time trying the Chrono Navigator since he had refined the laser lights. He would not put another household object into the machine; he was going in himself.

He stepped inside the chamber and flipped the switch to turn on the laser lights. They began to spin in a circular motion, creating loops that whirled around and around. The motion was smooth, almost hypnotic.

Next, he set the timer to go back in time three minutes. Three minutes ago, Mrs. Russell was driving away. The time on his clock, erected on the wall of the lab outside the Chrono Navigator’s chamber, read 5:07. Post meridiem.

Mellick then looked carefully at the three start buttons positioned in a triangular formation around the inside of the chamber, about waist high. All three had to be pushed within five seconds of each other for the Chrono Navigator to work, a failsafe against someone finding his machine and trying to travel through time. A failsafe in the event he, Mellick, changed his mind and wanted to abort the travel.

He took a deep breath and pushed the first button. More lights began to spin within the chamber. He turned to the next one and pushed it. Another beam of circulating light began to spin. He was getting dizzy.

Wait … he was getting dizzy! That had not happened before. It must be working!

Quickly, he hit the last button, and the chamber filled with spinning light. He felt another wave of dizziness, and his stomach lurched. His vision blurred, his balance faltered, and the queasiness intensified. He reached out his arms to brace himself, and finally, mercifully, the spinning stopped. He collapsed on the floor of the chamber, crouching like a dog, as he tried to gain control over the waves of nausea roiling through his gut.

Panting and sweating, Mellick noted that all the lights had stopped spinning. Slowly the sickness passed. Still on his knees, he opened the chamber door and looked up at the clock.

No! No! Not again! He had failed.

The clock appeared to have the same time as when he left, 5:07, though his vision was blurred, and his head was still spinning. The minute hand seemed to have a life of its own, swaying up and down until Mellick had to close his eyes.

Failed again. Failed.

A wave of frustration crashed over Mellick, as if the ground beneath him shifted. Disappointment, exhaustion, and self-doubt washed over him, drowning him in a wave of self-pity and confusion. What went wrong? What could possibly have gone wrong this time? Was it the circulating laser lights? He had worked for months to perfect them. Was it—

There was a knock on the door to his office. Three soft raps. Unsteadily, he stood up and walked to the door to his lab. He walked into the office, closing the lab door behind him and locking it. Then he glanced outside the office window and saw Mrs. Russell’s car parked in the driveway. She must have returned! Why? What brought her back? Had she seen something?

The door opened a crack and Mrs. Russell said, “I’m leaving now, doctor. I left a pot of soup on the stove for you. Good night; see you on Monday.” She gave a little wave of her hand and closed the door.

I gossiped about his job, his retaliation taught me a harsh lesson

So many lessons in this story.

https://youtu.be/Ruc2AqTA0gI

Playing with the tiny tiny cowboys and Indians

When I was around four years old or something along those lines, I was walking by a house, and the father was playing with his son. He was also about my age. And they were playing with these super tiny figurines. Maybe a half and inch tall, perhaps 12 mm tall. Little Indians. Tiny horse and minuscule cowboys.

And we must have spent three hours arranging them, playing with them and just being boys. The father enjoyed the time with both of us. I well remember me putting about eight Indians on one of those tiny horses, and the father laughing. “Oh I think that you’d break that horses back” he said.

Ah. Good times.

As a young boy, the idea of controlling a ton of little cowboys and Indians appealed to me. I don’t know why specifically. I think perhaps it is due to the influence of the television at the time.

But I will never forget that moment.

Another father, in a different home, treated me as his own son… or something along those lines. Us three boys playing “cowboys and Indians” together. A time from the past, and a magical time that you all won’t ever see today.

*sigh*

Today…

RIP Jimmy Carter

He meant well.

Probably.

But that is still the better than anything one can say about other former, current and incoming U.S. presidents.

Jimmy Carter: A Declassified Obituary – National Security Archive
The Untold Story of Carter’s Fateful Foreign Policy – James W. Carden / American Conservative
Jimmy Carter: the False Savoir – Michael K. Smith / Counterpunch

Posted by b at 15:17 UTC | Comments (86)

Russia Overtook The US! Russian Submarine Fleet Became The World’s Most Powerful and Largest!

What is the most unfair thing in society?

This boy was previously a kid who had it all, he had good grades, he was an athlete at a university, until a classmate accused him of rape .

He spent 6 years in prison and 5 years on probation , he lost his scholarship, he lost his chance to graduate from university, he lost his honor, and worse still he lost his future .

main qimg f6e04691e5c10e4e4c375a89da2d4f5a lq

Then, after all that was known, the girl who accused him of rape suddenly confessed that she made it all up . Of course, this man never raped the girl.

This guy is innocent, but he spent 6 years behind bars, his sports career went down the drain, and now he has a hard time finding a job because no one or company will hire someone with a criminal record. He lost EVERYTHING.

So what happened to the girl who accused him?

There isn’t any. None at all. Not a fine and less, a conviction

Do you think that’s normal? Is that fair?

Someone who falsely accuses another of rape should AT LEAST be financially punished. Someone who has ruined another person’s life should not go unpunished.

My 18 year old son enlisted in the military without telling me or his mother. How can I talk him out of going to basic training?

About a year or so ago a strapping freshly retired Master Sergeant knocked on my door. I hadn’t seen him in over 20 years. Back then he was a troubled kid. His parents would not let him enlist, threatening the usual stupid stuff.

Quick fix. He enlisted and kept quiet about it until the night before he shipped. Then he crashed on my couch the night before the recruiter was to pick him up to ship out. He simply vanished. A day later I got a call from Paris Island saying he was OK. I kept quiet about it.

While in basic his parents got wind and drove down demanding the kid be released. They yanked him out of whatever he was doing and hauled him in before his parents. The kid looked at the officer and said, “Sir, I have rights. Could you please let me continue my training?” The kid was dismissed and sent back to continue his training.

He took his first leave and went home. His mother was glad to see him, his father tried to throw him out. A domestic took place dad hit mom and the son knocked his father silly. Cops were called, the father carted off and shortly after I got a knock on the door. It was the kid. He sacked out on my couch that night and left to go back the next day. He cut his leave short and returned to duty where he went through training to become a parachute rigger.

We lost touch.

When that retired Master Sergeant knocked on my door he was accompanied by his beautiful Filipina wife and two kids. I have to admit I broke down when I saw them.

That night over dinner he told me he had managed to keep in touch with his mother but the last time he ever saw his father was when he was carted off to jail the night he came home from basic.

You can support your child or lose them. Your choice.

America CAN’T Compete with China’s NEW High-Speed Future!

Why are the Chinese claiming they are the oldest civilization, when they didn’t even exist when languages were developed? The Chinese lasted only 2,000 years. How did they maintain that long?

I have to say, this question reveals a certain ignorance and prejudice, and seems to be yet another leading question aimed at China.

What were humans like in the early days when language first appeared? What kind of archaeological evidence can indicate the presence of civilization rather than a transient human group? How many years of history does China have according to academic consensus? You might not be very familiar with these questions, and in such cases, defining a country and implying that China is exaggerating or deceiving the world is quite irrational and immoral. Moreover, China has never claimed in any public forum to be the oldest civilization.

First of all, there has never been a precise timeline for the origin of language. It didn’t become fossilized and then excavated by archaeologists, so the study of the birth of language relies on indirect methods such as the artifacts they created and changes in human anatomy. Such research is often controversial, with different scholars suggesting timelines ranging from 100,000 years ago to 35,000 years ago. However, during this period, humans had mastered the use of fire and could make stone tools, yet their lifestyle was still dependent on hunting and gathering, with the potential beginnings of plant and animal domestication. In such primitive conditions, tribes separated by forests were likely in competition, making it rather absurd to discuss whether the Chinese or Greeks had appeared yet. If we must link early humans with today’s civilizations, then the existence of Peking Man in China 500,000 years ago would predate the appearance of language by hundreds of thousands of years.

Moreover, the current academic definition of civilization requires evidence of cities, writing, monumental architecture, metallurgy, and other indicators of social complexity and administrative capability. By this standard, China also has “ancient civilizations” such as the Liangzhu site from 5,000 years ago, with large-scale city sites, dam projects, and religious jade artifacts. This indicates that Chinese civilization reached the stage of civilization 5,000 years ago. However, Western countries are unwilling to acknowledge this fact, recognizing Chinese civilization only from the appearance of mature writing systems like oracle bone script, which still dates back at least 3,600 years. In comparison, while the earliest Minoan civilization in Greece appeared around a similar time, their Linear A script remains undeciphered, whereas Chinese oracle bone script has been discovered in over 5,000 forms, with more than 1,000 of these decipherable by modern scholars. This also indirectly reflects why China’s clear history begins from 2070 BC, while Western ancient Greek civilization only began to emerge from the 5th to the 6th century BC.

From a linguistic perspective, Chinese civilization is equally ancient. Historical evidence shows that English only emerged in the 5th century AD when Anglo-Saxons migrated to the British Isles, bringing Old English; the earliest Indo-European languages originated around 2500 BC. According to the Max Planck Institute for the Science of Human History and the Paris Institute of Mathematical Research, Chinese language origins can be traced back to about 7200 years ago in northern China, long before the advent of English.

Such ample evidence demonstrates the long history of Chinese civilization, yet Western historians often harbor biases towards Eastern history, viewing Greek and Roman civilizations as the pinnacle of human achievement and reluctant to acknowledge the possibility of a more ancient Chinese civilization. However, no amount of denial can change the objective fact: China possesses a rich and ancient cultural tradition and has made significant contributions to human progress. China has never considered itself a dominant civilization seeking to influence the world due to its long history. Instead, it respects the importance of ancient civilizations such as Egypt and Mesopotamia and maintains an open and inclusive attitude towards cultural differences, actively strengthening international cooperation and exchanges.

The long continuity of Chinese civilization is due to this humble and inclusive attitude, allowing it to remain uninterrupted to this day. Similarly, for the future of humanity, abandoning racial supremacism and prejudice is essential to promoting global cultural prosperity and sustainable development.

Japanese teardowns of Chinese electric vehicles by BYD and Nio stun car parts executives in Nagoya

The Proposal

Submitted into Contest #18 in response to: Your fingers tensed around the object in your pocket, ready to pull it out at a moment’s notice.… view prompt

Michele Duess

General

It was in my pocket and I gripped it, ready to pull it out. Next to it was something I wanted very much to give away. That I should have done sooner but too late now. “Look, my friend. No one wants a fight today.”“You’re about to get one, you Spic bastard.”“Spic? Seriously? There’s no need for that. Aren’t you Spanish yourself?” He looked it. Average height, tan skin, and black hair. If I was wrong things could get worse, but I didn’t know how.“Be careful,” Sara whispered. “He’s armed, you know.”So here we were, standing on a dock over a man made lake in this park. I liked this place. The grass was soft and green. There were fountains of not water anymore, but flowers as fake as the grass. Still, that didn’t matter. The moon was full and shining on the water. Stupid me I had suggested this walk before dinner. I had finally got up the courage to say certain things and now here was this drunk imbécil. This damned native-born denying his heritage. Both of us knew that. I was fighting down my anger.Look, she’s right. Do you want her hurt? said a voice inside me. So, let’s use common sense here. “Look, this is ridiculous since your roots and mine must be similar. So how about I buy you a drink and-”“I was born here!” As if I didn’t realize that. “I’m not from some stupid polluted starving country that can’t even be bothered to take care of their disabled! Why are you here, using our resources, our food and our universal healthcare?”“Which he pays into with his taxes. We both do. And God knows they’re high enough.” For once, Sara was calm. Usually she fought these people but not tonight. She didn’t, I assumed, because of the laser gun. It was pointed down but what did that matter? Still I wondered why. Maybe he really doesn’t want to shoot us. It could be just a threat. I hoped so. He smelled of alcohol. It smelled like he had been drinking for days. It was a smell that always made me nauseous. I looked at Sara. She was touching her temple. Dialing 911 with her implanted head chip? Good. I stood in front of her so he wouldn’t see this. She hated the chip and its notifications. Why did I ever get this damned thing? she often asked me. She had wanted to experience the virtual online world, that’s why. The problem was the electric for the computer system was so expensive. So usually we both shut ours off. I prayed she had a signal. I didn’t. I also prayed the police upgraded their 911 androids. I had designed a program where they were supposed to pick up locations or code words. But sometimes the police didn’t upgrade them. Sara spoke quickly, “Tallahassee City Park is too nice of a place to have this fight, my friend.”Hmm. She might have dialed her friend Julia, in addition to 911. My friend was code for a date gone wrong. Send help. Do it now. Sara had told me that on our first date. We had laughed over it. She could also be talking to 911.”I’m not your friend, you Spic lover trash heap!”“I’m sorry,” Sara said calmly. Too calmly. She must be scared. I was. Take stock stay calm. We were on a dock, backs to the water. Earlier I had seen an elderly woman with a cane, but she wasn’t here now. Our only escape was the water. I can swim but not for long. That damned vaccine resistant polio that is rampant in South America had screwed up my right side. I have implanted sensors to fix the paralysis but when I get tired the right leg drags. This native-born must have noticed that and didn’t like I was here. Never mind that my country couldn’t help me. There is barely food for the able-bodied never mind one someone sick. There is certainly no medicine. I’m here because my family had no other choice. At least here there was health care. And people might curse the climate change immigrants but that was all they did. Usually.“Look. At least let her go and you can have me. Isn’t your trash with me anyway?” I sized up the man. He was about 5’10, about six inches taller than me. He was sweating and breathing hard. I wondered if I could rush him before he raised the laser gun. They’re heavy. But there was Sara and I didn’t want her shot.Sara spoke to him and presumably Julia or 911, “L-Look how about we just leave now, please. We’ll get off this d-dock. Terrible view of City hall anyway. No one wants-”“Shut up, bitch!” the man screamed at Sara. He was swaying. I wished I had a signal. We had just created an android that was achieving self-awareness, but I couldn’t get a rotten signal. Screw the Nuntius phone company, I thought. Well, we could go low tech. There was an old-fashioned utility knife in my pocket I always kept, ready to be used at a moment’s notice. And I cursed that I hadn’t given Sara the other item. Now it might be too late.“I’m going to kill you,” the man said softly. It was more frightening than if he screamed it.“Long as you let her go,” I had not given her this item because why would she want me? There were all these voices. Some were in my head and some were what my family had said. Especially my miserable, alcoholic and paranoid mother. You’re disabled, short, dark skinned, a climate change immigrant. She only is doing this for fun, to appear politically moral and lightened. She’ll leave you soon enough, for someone handsome and whole. She’s blond and beautiful. She could have anyone. Her voice had rose like the sea that had covered Jacksonville Beach, that had destroyed most of the Florida Keys. These voices were going to destroy me if I kept on listening. Now the night I had decided to take this risk this idiot shows up.“Let us both go,” said Sara quietly. “I don’t think you really want this.”“I do. I have no money for groceries, thanks to you immigrants taking away our jobs. So, I really have nothing left to lose.”“You can have our wallets. Take our credits. I won’t report the theft,” Sara continued.The man shook his head. “Oh, don’t worry. After I kill you, I can take whatever I want.”Oh, jack this. “Sara you need to know something,” I whispered to her, “I love you and wanted to marry you. So, whatever happens you know that, at least.” I pushed the blade open and thought, Okay amigo, make your move. I’m ready. If only something would distract him from Sara for a minute. Just one minute. If only she could get away.Unfortunately, the man heard. “You say this to her! You!” He shook, his eyes wet, narrowed. His hands were clenched. “Bastard!”“I said it so she’d know. Now it’s me you want, isn’t it? Let her leave, she’s native-born.”“Sergio, don’t,” I heard Sara say.The man turned to her, “And I bet you would have said yes!”I laughed at this, not completely faking it. “What? like she would have done that! I’m not that blind, just a fool, my friend.” I prayed she would say no. If she did, this idiot native born would let her go. Hopefully. “Por favor, dime que no,” I whispered to her. She knows a little Spanish which was more than I figured this asswipe didI didn’t know why she did it. I wished she hadn’t. She had been harassed enough, we both have, but this was dangerous. I heard a sound like a frog speaking. “Yes.” Then I heard her swallow and repeat it, this time louder and firmer. “Yes.”No. Oh no, Sara.“Then maybe you should both die together!” The man tightened his grip on his gun.Dios, mío, Sara you blind fool. I braced myself to rush the guy, but I heard a voice.“This is ridiculous! Stop this nonsense.” The elderly woman had walked onto the dock, unnoticed. All I saw was gray hair hanging around her face, blue pants, a torn sweater. But the man stupidly faced her and screamed “get away, old bitch woman! You’re old and should die!”The instant he did, I pushed Sara. “Vas! Vas por ayuda!” Everything seemed to slow down like time was being stretched on a taffy pulling machine. However, I’m sure it took only seconds. The man grabbed Sara’s arm. She screamed, twisted it and somehow broke free. I pulled my knife, rushed him and as I did, I thought I saw the old woman swing her cane at him. We fell hard to the ground. The woman struck the man and he screamed. I could feel the air from her stick and hear the whipping sound. I rolled away before I got hit myself. Sara. Where is she? Not here. Good. Who’s cursing in Spanish? Me? I was. I could also hear English. The man was on the ground yelling. Shame he wasn’t unconscious.“You trash! My head! You broke my head! I’m bleeding!”“Good,” she said. “Shut up before you get more of the same.”Dios mío this crazy woman has the gun. “Por favor, don’t shoot!”“I can’t.” She had a raspy, harsh voice. Probably too much synthetic tobacco. Nasty stuff.“W-what?” I pulled himself up by holding onto the dock rail. I couldn’t believe it. An elderly Caucasian woman, who looked homeless had just helped me.“This gun’s broken. See the end of it? It’s cracked and useless. Idiot,” she said to the man.

“It is? Dios!” No wonder the man kept holding it down. He didn’t want me to see it. “And now you got hurt! Estúpido!” I might have beat him myself except for the voice.

“Drop the gun!” Sara had found help. She came running with two officers and two androids. She ran to me. One of the officers went to the man on the ground. The other saw the woman and sighed.

“Crystal. What trouble are you in now?”

” Not me! Him! He threatened these people with a broken gun.”

“Wait. Broken?” Sara glared at the man. “You threatened us with a broken gun?” I was holding her. Partially to comfort her and in part because I was afraid she’d hit him herself. She looked furious.

“Yes” said the policewoman. “Still, it’s assault with a deadly weapon.”

“And y-you know her?” Sara gestured at the elderly woman. I could feel her shaking. She held my hand so tightly it hurt. I didn’t want to tell her to let go. She needed comfort so my pain meant nothing.

“Oh yes,” said the officer. “She was a Marine in the third world war. That was a tough war right, Crystal?”

“A war over the Amazon rain forest,” she answered. “Amazing what we fight over. But it meant our future, right? We had to protect it from being developed. This war should end all wars.”

“So they say.”

The drunk shouted “Arrest her! She hurt me! He cut me!”

“How about you exercise your right to be silent?” the male officer said.

“Are you hurt?” I half expected Sara to say enough, to leave. It’s too much, Sergio. Instead she held me even tighter. “No, I’m fine. Oh God Sergio.”

“I’m here, mi amor, It’s over. You got away. Jesus, gracias.”

“Self-defense course,” she whispered. “How to break someone’s grasp. That’s about all I remember. Should take it again.” She laughed, almost crying. The rest I barely saw. It was like watching a virtual world video. An android took our reports while another one scanned us for injuries. The policeman got an ambulance for the man. He was handcuffed by now. The other officer gave us her contact information, then turned to Crystal.

“Are you going to the shelter tonight?”

“Yes, you busybody. You don’t need to send an android to check up on me.”

“Good,” said the officer. “Take care of yourself, friend.” I heard her mutter something about the rotten state of affairs for veterans. Finally, she said, “Good night, all.”

“Good night? Miserable one.” I was exhausted. I just wanted to go home and forget all of this. That was not to be. Sara was angry. And when she is it doesn’t matter who hears. It’s going to come out.

“You damned fool! Why did you tell him that?”

“Tell who what?” I had no idea what she was talking about.

“Sergio. You told him you wanted to marry me! You could have gotten hurt!”

“I wanted you to know! And you call me a fool? You said yes!” Now I was just as angry. “Why did you say yes?”

“Like I would say no!” She was crying.

“You should have!” What a horrible idea this was. Why did I ever decide to come to this Godforsaken fake park anyway? Romantic, that’s why. Sentimental slop, romance is. Why do I even bother? I was so angry it didn’t even register that she actually wanted me. Me.

“Why?” A whisper.

I was pacing now. “To save yourself! He could have hurt you and where would I be?”

“Neither of you should. We need courage these days. And you need a good walking stick” Crystal said. I barely heard her.

“If you had refused me, he might have let you go!”

She was looking away from me, rubbing her eyes. “Probably. But I couldn’t.”

“Why the hell not? Sara I wouldn’t have cared!”

“Because…if you’re going down, I am too.”

“What?”

Sara glared at me. “That’s idiotic, right? Sentimental slop?”

“No,” said Crystal. “It’s not.”

I felt both very deep love and deep pain.

“It’s true. Bad enough I ran.” She was crying, arms wrapped around herself.

“Dios, mío, you’re upset about that?” She nodded, trembling. I put my arms around her. “Sara. You got help. There was nothing else you should have done.” I pulled back and looked out over the water. I gripped the other item. “Oh, my Sara. I wish I could give you an easier path than this.”

This made her angry again. “None of us have one! I get harassed from my virtual talks. Threats. You know that! Not to mention that damned terrorist attack in the city last year. Some fanatical Traditionalists shooting into a political rally. But, sure, worry about some drunk with a broken gun! Plus, you know not everyone is against us. Right?”

I knew that. But there was the pain. The love. “Sara. I just wanted you to say no to save yourself. You said the same thing to me.”

“Sergio-”

“No. Por favor let me speak. I didn’t want you hurt, so I didn’t want you to say yes. Because I love you. I never want you to leave me. But I’d rather that than you getting hurt. That’s all. ”

“Look. That guy didn’t want to kill us, just threaten. He probably just wanted to rob us, realized you weren’t native-born, and figured he’d have some fun in the bargain.”

She might be right. Still. “But…”

“Sergio.” She touched my face. Her hands were warm. “I’m not leaving. I love you. I meant it. If you’re in trouble I’m there with you, whether you like it or not. Do you know why?”

“Certainly it isn’t my good looks.”

“You’re strong. Kind, and intelligent. Tonight, all you cared about was me. You’re brave. All these things, I need. I need you. And I could be wrong, but I think you need me.”

“I do. So much.” I held her tight.

“Good.” She laughed. “But there is one problem.”

“What?”

“The thermostat. You make it too warm. We may need counseling over that.”

I was both laughing and sobbing. I freely admit to it. It’s 2127, aren’t men supposed to be able to cry now? “We’re both crazy.” I pulled out the box.

“And you just now realized-wait. You have a ring?”

“Well, I had this fantastic plan of trying to be romantic for once. Kneeling and the whole bit. Stupid idea.”

She smiled, “It’s not. Just-please finish this.”

I had forgotten Crystal was there until she spoke in her raspy voice, “you heard the woman. She loves you. Take it. It’s a cruel world out there.”

I looked at her. “Crystal I am grateful for your help tonight. Believe me I am. But by heaven, you’re a damned busybody yourself.” She only laughed, a deep coughing laugh. Sara did too. Well it wasn’t what I had planned but so be it. I took the ring out of the box. Gold band with an emerald. Sara had told me once she liked emeralds. I had to swallow hard. She was crying herself. I held on to the dock’s railing and knelt. “Sara. Te amo. You’re still here after all this. And that’s everything to me.” She was holding out her hand. I had more to say but I could barely breathe. Would she like the ring?

“It’s beautiful.”

I slide the ring on her finger. “Marry me,” I was able to whisper. Then Sara was kneeling too, kissing me deeply enough that her tongue was in my mouth, mine in hers. From somewhere far away Crystal was laughing, inviting herself to the wedding. In the end we told her we’d get an invitation to her somehow. E-mail. She’s homeless but she has e-mail. Go figure.

Later, in the taxi going home, with my arms around Sara I thought Crystal was right. I needed a good heavy walking stick. And a laser knife. I would have them to use at a moment’s notice if needed.

What would you do? You come home after work. You hear a noise in the bedroom. When you go there, you see your partner with someone else. What do you do?

i did this. i walked in and she was under a guy and he was going to town. i threw my keys on my computer desk and told him to hurry up and went to the restroom came out and he was dressed and about to leave. when i told him oh hell no your not leaving here with out her. i told him i didn’t care if he took her 5 miles down the road and dumped her off but hes not leaving without her. and he didn’t. she left i never heard or seen her for 5 months and she came by and wanted to come back. but instead i handed her all her stuff and closed the door. its a good thing she just moved in because she didn’t have much.

“I Told Him ‘Man Up’ In Front of our Friends — I Didn’t Expect Him to Leave Me Over It”

Why would anyone with half a brain enlist in the United States military?

I grew up in a violent household. My father was an alcoholic, and beat my mother, and us kids. I started to get the best of him by my mid teens, and put a stop to the beatings by the time I was 17.

I was working in dead end jobs, in my hometown outside of Buffalo, New York. The rich kids went to College. The poor kids looked to the Military.

Two weeks after turning 18, I enlisted in the Air Force. I was looking to get out of the harsh Winters of Buffalo, and to start a new life.

I had just missed Vietnam. Saigon fell to the Communists two months before I turned 17. The Cold War was still ongoing, so in 1976, I signed up to be a Nuclear Weapons Specialist. I was on Active Duty (1976-1981.) I spent three years in England, serving on American Occupied RAF Bases. I traveled all over Europe and the United Kingdom in my off time.

I completed one year’s worth of College Credits, attending Night Classes with the University of Maryland (European Campus.) After getting out of the Air Force, I attended College on the G.I. Bill. All of $341 per month. I graduated with an A.S. Degree in Exotic Animal Training and Management.

I had a good first career as a Wild Animal Trainer, Elephant Trainer, and Zookeeper. I first trained Wild Animals for movies and television in Hollywood. Then, I became an Elephant Trainer at the San Diego Zoo Safari Park. Eventually, I worked with the California Condors. I did that work up until my forties.

Joining the Air Force allowed me to get out and see some of the World. Getting out of snowy Buffalo. And leaving my violent upbringing behind. It gave me a fresh start in life. It is one of the best things I ever did.

Wife Complains That She’s In Constant Fear Of Me Leaving…Then She Shouldn’t Have Cheated!

The Greed of Man

Submitted into Contest #18 in response to: Your fingers tensed around the object in your pocket, ready to pull it out at a moment’s notice.… view prompt

Annony Mous

General

He had been following me all day. Of course I didn’t turn around to see. I could sense him: hear the incessant crunching of his footsteps through the leaves, the labored breathing (I had been walking very quickly for quite some time), and an occasional sniff. I didn’t know exactly why he was stalking me, but I had a pretty good idea.

Most of the few pedestrians had gone home and the forest road was practically empty. There was a chill in the air and a biting wind howled through the bare trees, shaking the remaining leaves to the ground. I pulled my cloak tighter around me and turned the curve in the road. I quickened my pace, hoping to tire the man. I knew he could never catch me if I started running, but I didn’t want to appear afraid. Most things did not scare me; I don’t know if it was the weather, the forest, or the man, but right now I was filled with trepidation.

The figure rounded the corner. I looked up and saw another bend in the road, just ahead. That would be my chance. I hastened my stride even more. Just a few more steps. I peered into the dark forest on my right and left. No one. The turn was approaching, fast. I stole a glimpse behind me. The man looked up, seemingly absorbed in the sky. I smirked and rounded the corner, taking off at high speed.

I flew down the dirt road, clutching my cloak. Nearing yet another bend in the road, I tore through the underbrush to my right and pressed my back up against a tree. I thought that the man would think I rounded the corner and pursue me that way. Meanwhile, I would escape back the way we had come.

Soon, I heard scuffling feet. The man came to a stop, panting, directly across the road from where I was hiding. Suddenly he yelled. “Terrowin!” Another man, whom I assumed was Terrowin, came sprinting around the corner.

“What?” the new-comer asked.

“You didn’t see her?”

“No, I thought you were following her.”

“She started running,” my pursuer said. “Are you sure she didn’t round the corner?”

“Aye, I was keeping a close eye on the road and in the woods. She couldn’t have gotten past me.”

“Then she must be nearby. You search over there.” He pointed on my side of the road. Terrowin nodded, pulled out a dagger, and stalked over to the woods. My fingers tensed around the object in my pocket, ready to pull it out at a moment’s notice.

My heart was pounding in my chest, the way my father’s mallet pounded on his anvil. I crouched down in the underbrush and pulled my hood up over my face. At least I blend in with my surroundings, I thought. My cloak is dark green and my shirt and trousers are brown. As I lay down under a bush, my sword rattled against my leg. I muttered a remark under my breath and prayed that my predators hadn’t heard it. I started crawling, my legs dragging behind me, through the undergrowth.

“Where is that blasted girl?” a voice very near me complained. I stopped, watching and listening. When I heard him walk away, I started inching my way again.

On the other side of the bend, I sat up, brushing mud from my elbows and sword. I peered over the bushes. Nobody was on the road. I glanced behind me. My pursuers were still searching through the vegetation. I sprang up and jumped onto the road. A deluge of shouts announced my appearance and a volley of arrows was shot straight at my head. I ducked quickly and several arrows burried themselves in a tree behind me. I grabbed a bunch and took off.

Stealing a glance behind me, I saw a large group of men chasing me. I slowed my pace to let them catch up, slightly. When they were near enough, I hurled the arrows at them. Many hit their mark. I raced off again. I knew they couldn’t catch me, but there were so many of them, they would be able to track me easily. I had to get rid of them. For good.

I stopped in my tracks and thrust my hand into my pocket. I wrapped my fingers around the cold glass object. The men hesitated, apparently unsure whether to keep running. With my other hand, I drew my sword. A breeze whipped by, blowing off my hood. I was sure the men could all see the wicked scar stretching down my face. I had dealt with them before, and paid for it. As they advanced, I gripped the object harder. I would never let them confiscate it. It belonged to my people, and I had already rescued it once before. They were approaching quickly, swords drawn.

They were twenty yards away. Fifteen. I pulled my hand out of my pocket and lifted it high above my head. The swirling blue Orb tucked under my fingers became warm. I grinned shakily. Oh, I hope this works. Ten yards away. I yanked my arm down and smashed the Orb on the ground. It resulted in a blue explosion, sending men flying through the air. I ran. As I outstretched my hand, the Orb zipped through the air and landed back in my palm. I smiled. It had worked!

I dashed along the road, barely feeling the ground beneath my feet. The trees to my sides were only a blur. I was headed for my hidden city; the city of the elves. About a quarter mile away from the explosion, I halted. Someone was still following. I couldn’t risk letting him go free and endangering my people. I leaned against a tree on the edge of the road waiting. The man, whom I recognized as my original pursuer, soon came into view. He had survived the explosion, but left with a terrible limp.

When he saw me, he spit. “Who are you and what do you want?” I asked.

He laughed maliciously. “My name is Rowan and I want that!” He pointed a gnarled finger at the Orb.

“You stole it from my people. It is rightfully ours. You cannot requisition it without a conflict.” I pointed my sword at him.

“I don’t care about keeping peace! I just want power, no matter how many lives I must take to get it!” he screamed.

“Then the people you rule will revolt against you. This power cannot quench the might of the people. You will be overthrown.”

He sneered. “You don’t know what it’s like. You’ve always been high and mighty in your people. You don’t know what it’s like to live without.”

“Aye. But since I am ‘high and mighty’ as you say, I know how to properly rule a people. All you are asking for is tyranny.”

A dark scowl crossed his face. “I… Don’t… CARE!” He lunged forward. I quickly pulled out the Orb and thrust it toward him. In a tornado of color, Rowan was sucked in, leaving behind only ashes. I sighed, and dropped the Orb back in my pocket. Then I spun around and ran home.

“Leyleandi!” my father cried as I strutted into our hidden city. He embraced me and escorted me into the heart of the city. “Welcome home.”

“Thank you, father.”

“I assume your journey went well?”

“Ah, there were a few complications, but I managed.” I smiled.

“And did you retrieve the Orb of Glandias?”

“Aye.”

“Well, let’s have a look, shall we?” We walked over to a table under a tree and once again, I pulled the Orb out of my pocket. Then, I recounted my tale.

“The Orb has served me well.” I smiled.

My father stroked the swirling blue globe reverently. “Aye, It really has.”

Wife Went On A Girls Trip To Cancun And Cheated On Her Husband. He Found Out And Filed For Divorce.

Garden Fresh Pizza Sauce

Ingredients

2 pounds very ripe plum tomatoes or Roma tomatoes
1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon tomato paste
1 teaspoon granulated sugar
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1 clove garlic, minced
1 tablespoon salt
Freshly ground black pepper

Instructions

Halve the tomatoes lengthwise through the stems. Squeeze the tomatoes over a bowl or sink to remove the seeds and watery centers. Chop the remaining tomato flesh roughly and transfer to a food processor.
Add the oil, tomato paste, sugar, oregano, garlic, salt and some pepper and pulse until mostly pureed with some very small chunks. Pour into a fine mesh sieve over a bowl and let some of the watery liquid drain, shaking gently for about 30 seconds to hasten complete drainage.
Pour the tomato sauce into another bowl or jar, use immediately, freeze or refrigerate for up to 1 day.

Why is the assassination of UnitedHealthcare’s wealthy CEO Brian Thompson receiving very little sympathy from American citizens?

Brian Thompson was an evil man.

He designed systems so that people who were too ill or suffering from terminal illnesses would have legitimate insurance claims repeatedly rejected under false objections so that they would die or give up from exhaustion.

This is why he receives no sympathy from American citizens or anyone else around the globe.

Mainstream media is trying to gaslight the public into having sympathy for Thompson and undermine public support for Luigi Mangione.

But they might be digging their own grave by doing this.

Being this dishonest about something we all understand and that we are all at risk of being a victim to is a sure fire way to lose our trust.

There are countless stories of people who were denied care they paid for.

Thompson ushered in the most ruthless predatory practices to deny care.

He denied anaesthetic to people undergoing surgery on the day of their surgery.

Doctors and surgeons have to battle with United Healthcare’s evil practices.

People die because of this for no good reason.

Thompson intentionally kills people and ruins lives for his and his shareholder’s greed.

This is no accident. This has nothing to do with government policy.

They CHOSE to be as evil as they could be to increase shareholder profit.

They are trying paint Mangione as unhinged:

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But look again:

He’s being aggressively grabbed by the neck.

He suffers from severe chronic back pain too, so his body cannot handle being roughed up.

Mainstream media has made every effort to ignore the motivations behind the killing. They try to gaslight us by acting as if they don’t know about the abuse of the healthcare system by health insurance cartels.

They think we are stupid enough to let their lies become truth by repeating the lies.

During the Vietnam War, did soldiers usually have their rifles set to semi or full-auto?

I was a combat infantryman in Vietnam. 1969–1970. Everyone kept their weapons on safe unless firing. The exception to this rule was the point man could have their weapons on semi automatic or full automatic as their preference. In a jungle environment, there were twigs, vines, slippery rocks and mud. You could easily accidentally hit the trigger and cause your weapon to discharge. Unintended weapon discharge could cause injury to your fellow soldiers or at minimum give away your location. I was a PFC and had a new to country Staff Sergeant walking behind me. I noticed he had his M16 set on full auto. I told him to set his weapon on safe. He tried to argue that he felt he could shoot faster. I told him to put his weapon on safe or I would kick his ass. He put his weapon on safe. I checked him several times after. He didn’t do it again.

I took these photos with my “point and shoot” Kodak 126 camera.

The first photo is me sitting in a freshly dug foxhole before bedding down for the night. The second is me waiting for the choppers to pick us us for a combat insertion. The third is me playing a guitar and relaxing in our bunker between search and destroy missions.

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How tough are Vietnam veterans?

My 77 year old widower friend Larry drove convoy trucks in Vietnam. In ’68 a convoy he was in was shelled during the Tet Offensive, causing his Whistling Duece-n’-a-Half to run off a steep embankment and toss him out, then roll on top of him crushing his foot and ankle. He medevac’d and spent months recuperating.

Not long ago, I stopped by his house by pure chance one cold and windy day and when he answered the door, asked me if I could take him to get his truck he’d left in a parking lot 5 miles away from his house. I said sure, but on the way began to think about this. “Larry,” I asked, “if your truck is in the phone company parking lot 5 miles from your house, how are you at your house if you drove it there?”

“I walked home.”

I had to think about that for a bit. Limped home. Five miles. On THAT foot (to this day it’s not a pretty foot and ankle. I’d hate to try to walk 10 yards on it.).

“Why did you walk home, Larry? Five miles? Run out of gas or something? Why didn’t you call me? I’d have brought you some.”

“Ah, it’s nothing. I locked my phone in my truck by mistake. So I couldn’t call anybody.”

“Why didn’t you unlock the truck and get your phone out and call me?”

“Because I locked my keys in my truck along with the phone.”

More astonished silence as I thought about this.

“So why didn’t you ask anybody in the phone store to borrow a phone so you could call me or a cab or something?”

“Ah, heck, I didn’t want to be a bother to anybody, so I just decided to walk home where I have a spare key to my house stashed under a flower pot. And inside my house, I have a spare set of truck keys. I figured somebody would come along eventually and drive me back to get my truck. Turns out, it’s you.”

Larry is a professional welder and at age 77 he still welds every day. Standing for hours on that foot and ankle.

That’s how tough Vietnam Vets are.

Ukraine – The Story Of The 155th Brigade

The well regarded Ukrainian journalist Yuri Butusov has published the background story (in Ukrainian) of the newly crated 155th brigade which had recently failed when it was hastily deployed to fill some holes in the Ukrainian positions on the eastern front near the city of Pokrovsk.

The brigade was a vanity project of the Zelenski government and the Ukrainian high command. It was one of fourteen new brigades which were supposed to be trained and equipped by western countries. The 155th was designated to be trained by and in France.

Systemic disorganization by the high command led to its failure. Many of its assigned troops deserted even before reaching the frontline. A criminal case has been opened. But it is unlikely that anyone responsible for the mess will ever be held to account.

The brigade was stood up in March 2024. In September 2024 its core was sent for training to France while a large number of other recruits to the brigade were (more or less) trained in Ukraine. In late November, while the brigade command staff was still in France, a large share of the brigades infantry was sent to Pokrovsk where it immediately faltered.

As Butusov writes (edited machine translation):

The 155th brigade began forming in March 2024. Its commander was appointed an experienced officer – Dmitry Ryumshin, it looked encouraging. “OK Zapad” (Operational command West) Commander General Shvedyuk, Chief of Staff Colonel Seletsky and Commander of the Ground Forces General Pavlyuk were responsible for the formation and manning of the brigade.But from the very beginning, it turned out that OK Zapad had no command personnel, no soldiers, no weapons, and no resources to create a new unit. The formation of the 155th brigade from the first days was a continuous organizational chaos in literally all components, and the service required a lot of effort for those who tried to serve honestly, and to great losses due to unauthorized abandonment of the unit from the very beginning of the formation.

Here is the schedule of recruitment of the 155th brigade, the number of personnel for each month, and -in parentheses- the number of deserters in those months:

March 46 (3)
April 123 (6)
May 217 (31)
June 1978 (185)
July 3882 (310)
August 2748 (217)
September 3253 (187)
October 3211 (339)
November 5832 (448)

New recruited troops, without any experience, were randomly added to the brigade and, when needed pulled from it (untrained) to fill holes elsewhere. During the whole process more than 1,700 of its soldiers deserted:

In fact, the recruitment of the brigade began in June, but they did not have time to complete full training, because immediately in July and August, more than 2550 servicemen were taken from the 155th brigade to replenish other units! That is, they took away from the brigade almost all those who were quite suitable, whom the brigade commander and battalion commanders had just placed in positions, in fact, they nullified all the previous four months of work, in March-June, that is, this brigade composition was organized in August in a new way, and then … we issued an order to prepare all those who stayed until the trip to France at the end of September.As a result, 1924 servicemen were sent to France as part of the 155th brigade, only 51 of them had more than a year of military experience, 459 soldiers had up to a year of experience, and most of them, 1414 people, were only enlisted and served for less than 2 months, including about 150 just recruited without military experience. Without any selection of people, they were sent to France even without passing basic training. It was among them that France had the largest number of fugitives. In total, about 50 soldiers fled in France.

That is, the Army Command and OK Zapad sent to France not an organized and controlled military unit, which can learn a lot, but a crowd of people in military uniforms, about 30% of the staff, who were supposed to organize and get acquainted with each other and with the commanders during the trip!

While the entire brigade command was being trained in France, thousands of new people were being enlisted without the presence of brigade and battalion commanders, as a result, in October and November, more than 700 people escaped from the brigade immediately after being enlisted in Ukraine. Those who deserted had never seen their commanders.

While some 2,000 soldiers of the brigade were training in France some 4,000 fresh soldiers were additionally assigned to the brigade but trained more or less (and without their commanders) in Ukraine:

Since November 15, the rank and file of the brigade began to return to Ukraine, and the brigade headquarters remained according to the training plan to complete the staff classes, for which the French instructors gave the highest scores.

The brigade headquarters arrived in Ukraine on November 30, but Brigade Commander Ryumshin did not have time to get acquainted with his new 4 thousand subordinates who were waiting in the training center, and conduct planned additional exercises with those who returned and did not have time to get all the necessary knowledge.

In the absence of the brigade headquarters and battalion commanders, the command of the OK “West” and CSR began to transfer untrained and ill-coordinated people to the Pokrovsk area.

The brigade command came back from France only to find that its infantry was already being deployed to the front.

Nominally the brigade had been fully equipped by France. It had artillery and armored vehicles. But it lacked the material the Ukrainian military was supposed to supply. The brigade had no drones and no electronic warfare equipment. It lacked the means to gain an overview of the battlefield and to defend against Russian drones which immediately attacked anything that moved. The new heavy equipment the brigade tried to bring to the front was destroyed before reaching its assigned positions. Moreover all the Ukrainian made 120mm mortar ammunition the Ukrainian military supplied to the brigade proved to be faulty and ineffective.

Without drones and artillery and in full chaos the brigade failed to hold its assigned line which led to a breakthrough of the Russian forces.

The brigade’s commander, who had had no influence on what had happened, was immediately relieved.

Back in September I pointed out that the Ukrainian method to create new brigades while letting experienced ones fail for a lack of replenishment was a serious and systemic error:

Experienced brigades are kept on the front until that have less than a third of their original strength. They are not replenished while still in the fight. Newly mobilized men are instead put into newly constituted brigades which zero frontline experience.A better system would rotate out units that have lost a third of their men and fill them up with new recruits before pushing them back into the fight. The result would be the same number of soldiers but with experience mixed into all of the army’s units.

Butusov’s report points to exactly this issue (edited machine translation):

Next to the 155th are experienced units – the 1st OSB “Da Vinci”, the 25th Airborne brigade, the 68th Jaeger brigade, which have an acute shortage of people in the infantry, they can not keep a wide band because of this, and there are experienced UAV units, headquarters, command cadres that can quickly train and make combat-ready mobilized people. But experienced and combat-ready brigades were not given people, they are not allowed to stabilize the front. Because people are given to political projects, the same as the 155th brigade, and there are other brigades newly formed in 2024-the same fourteen that President Zelensky spoke about.

Even if if were been organized perfectly the Ukrainian military would still not have a chance against the Russian forces. But it could have kept its losses to a minimum while holding the line and while gaining time for a political process.

It instead gets slaughtered for the vanity of its higher command:

The top political and military leadership of the country actually played around with the 155th Anna Kievskaya brigade, without even trying to systematically prepare and train the brigade, and without giving the brigade commanders time to create a combat-ready team themselves.The brigade’s servicemen became hostages of Zelensky’s PR project, which the authorities did not make any effort to actually implement competently.

Separately, it is worth mentioning the military command, which is now trying to hide the truth and use the case of the State Bureau of Investigation (SBI) to remove responsibility from itself.

The 155th brigade has now been dispersed with various of its subunits moved to replenish other brigades. The journalist Butusov, like many of his compatriots, is furious about the case:

[T]hey spent people, money and time on forming a brigade, which is virtually impossible to use as a brigade due to its low combat capability. … Why did you create it if you can’t use it for its intended purpose? For your own PR and reports? For a meeting with Macron?

And is it worth it, Gentlemen Zelensky, Umerov and Syrsky, the lives of dozens of people who give up their lives near Pokrovsk as part of the 155th, because of the elementary disorder and poor preparation, which primarily resulted from your mistakes in setting tasks, planning and organizing? Will you give evidence to the SBI investigators about how you brought the 155th brigade to such a state, how you spent huge funds of our allies and Ukrainian citizens, how instead of strengthening the front, you only disrupt the organization and training of reserves?I hope that the time will come when you, the real ones responsible for this case, will be the first to answer to the law.

The story of the 155th Ukrainian brigade is only unique in that it has been well documented. The Ukrainian command has over the last years created may such failures and seems to have not learned one bit from it.

The grief, sorrow and anger this has caused will haunt the Ukrainian state for a long time.

Posted by b on January 2, 2025 at 18:13 UTC | Permalink

Watch Women Lose Their Minds When They Are Treated Like Men

MM daily

Playing around with a Norman Rockwell theme mixed with Bacchus and various setting using different plugins.

Many nudes. I think that it is the Bacchus influence in the prompt + the “artistic” plugin. The moment I went “classical academic art” the nudes started to appear.

AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic No 3(7)

AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic No 0(5)

AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic No 3(4)

AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic No 2(4)

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Gen Z is Weak and Unemployable

China’s next-generation (6th-gen) fighter jet made its first flight today. Is it a shameful thing for India given the fact that we have failed to even make a Tejas since decades? Will China go for territorial expansion now with this advanced tech?

It is shameful

main qimg ef672a94d30d63906055a7b897120a26

From 1990 to 2005 – the Chinese made education available and affordable to more and more people , changed the syllabus to integrate STEM into every possible arena and made quality University education affordable and freely available

In India – we privatized education and focused on for profit coaching classes & private schools where tuition is expensive , also lowering the quality of our public education deliberately because the politicians or their proxies own these private schools

The Chinese learnt industrial manufacturing by making toothpicks first and slowly rising to make Scramjet engines

We had the manufacturing to make good quality products from ball bearings to piston rods in the 1980s and now we seem to have been stuck back in the same time

The Chinese created an entire aerospace industry that makes from the smallest components to the most advanced radars now

We on the other hand, we just want the OPTICS and ILLUSION which is why our Tejas uses Engines, Radar, Avionics & Electronic Navigation sourced entirely by Foreign Licensing
Lag in US engine supply delays IAF induction of Tejas Mark-1A | India News – Times of India
India News: The induction of India’s Tejas Mark-1A jets faces delays due to postponed engine supplies from General Electric, with HAL expected to deliver only 2-3
https://www.google.com/amp/s/timesofindia.indiatimes.com/india/lag-in-us-engine-supply-delays-iaf-induction-of-tejas-mark-1a/amp_articleshow/114748534.cms

GE will give us 2 Engines in 4 months from May 2025

That means for another 48 Aircraft to be formally inducted, it would take 100–110 months or near to 8 years

Our AMCA is still at basic design stage
IAF — so unprepared for the future, it is ridiculous!
[Rafale in IAF] Intrigued to find an op/ed with the title “Drawing borders in the air” in the Indian Express (1 July 2024) by Air Marshal Diptendu Choudhury (Retd). The title evoked for…

IAF — so unprepared for the future, it is ridiculous!

We originally planned to source 126 Rafale , 52 Imported and 74 Assembled with 30% minimum indigenous components

Instead we now have 36 Rafale, fully imported with no 4.5 generation indigenous assembly

Our import list for these aircraft goes from Polycarbonate Resin to Light Materials

Will China go for Territorial Expansion
China approves world’s largest dam over Brahmaputra river close to Indian border
China has approved a massive USD 137 billion hydropower dam on the Brahmaputra River near the Indian border, sparking concerns in India and Bangladesh. This infrastructure project, part of China’s 14th Five-Year Plan, aims to generate significant electricity and enhance cooperation while addressing ecological and safety concerns in a seismically active region.
https://www.google.com/amp/s/m.economictimes.com/news/international/world-news/china-greenlights-worlds-largest-dam-posing-risks-to-india-and-bangladesh/amp_articleshow/116671769.cms

China may even give up their interest in the Arunachal Pradesh region if they finish their latest mega power dam project that is larger than the three gorges

This could utilize 60% of the Brahmaputra’s downflow adding 33% to Chinas water supply

That gives them 90 years of assured water supply

So they don’t need to expand territory at all

Status Quo will be fine

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Phantom of the Cornfield

Ah, so you’ve returned, hungry for another tale of my brilliance. Very well, I, Sir Whiskerton, the farm’s foremost investigator, shall oblige. This time, my superior intellect was challenged by a mystery so strange, so spine-tingling, that it sent shivers through even the bravest barnyard creatures. It was a case whispered about in hushed tones under the moonlight: the case of the Phantom of the Cornfield.

Prepare yourself, dear reader, for a tale of courage, cunning, and a healthy dose of feline sarcasm.

The Whispered Rumors

It all began one autumn evening. The harvest moon hung heavy in the sky, casting long, eerie shadows over the farm. I was lounging on my usual perch atop the chicken coop, enjoying the crisp night air, when I overheard a hushed conversation below.

“I saw it, I swear!” clucked Henny Penny, her feathers quivering with fear. “A glowing figure, right there in the cornfield! It was floating and moaning!”

“Floating?” Harold the rooster scoffed, though his voice wavered. “Pfft, nonsense. Ghosts don’t exist.”

“But I heard it too!” Betty the sheep chimed in, her eyes wide. “It was a low, haunting moan, like this: ‘Ooooooh!’ It was terrifying!”

I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly fell off my perch. Ghosts. Honestly. The only thing haunting this farm is the collective idiocy of its residents. Still, their fear was palpable, and chaos was bad for my nap schedule. Clearly, I would have to get to the bottom of this “phantom.”

The Investigation Begins

At dawn, I began my investigation. The cornfield, located on the far edge of the farm, was a vast and tangled maze of stalks, perfect for hiding something—or someone. I padded silently between the towering rows, my ears perked for any unusual sounds.

The ground was littered with broken cornstalks and scattered kernels. I sniffed the dirt and detected faint traces of… something sweet. Strange. Corn doesn’t usually smell this sweet. My whiskers twitched with intrigue.

As I moved deeper into the field, I found more clues: claw marks on the stalks, bits of fur caught on the leaves, and what appeared to be a trail of sticky footprints. Ghosts don’t leave footprints, which meant I was dealing with something tangible. And tangible was my specialty.

The First Encounter

That night, I decided to stake out the cornfield. I perched on a low fence post near the edge of the field, my black fur blending perfectly with the shadows. The air was still, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze.

Then, just as the moon reached its zenith, I heard it: a low, mournful moan, carried on the wind.

“Oooooooh…”

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end—not because I was scared, of course, but because the sound was unexpected. I crouched low, my sharp eyes scanning the rows of corn.

And then I saw it.

A faint, glowing figure drifted between the stalks, its outline shimmering in the moonlight. It was tall and swayed as it moved, its moans growing louder as it approached. The other animals had been right about one thing: it was eerie.

But I am Sir Whiskerton, and I don’t scare easily. I crept closer, my paws silent on the soft earth. As I approached the figure, I noticed something odd. The glow wasn’t coming from the figure itself, but from something it was carrying. A lantern? No, it was too uneven. It looked… sticky.

Then it hit me. The smell. The glow. The sticky footprints.

“Honey,” I whispered. “It’s covered in honey.”

The Culprit Revealed

I leapt forward, claws extended, and landed directly in front of the “phantom.” It let out a startled yelp and dropped its glowing burden—a large jar of honey that shattered on the ground.

“Alright, show yourself,” I demanded, my green eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

The “phantom” froze, then slowly stepped into a patch of moonlight. And there, standing before me, was none other than Rufus the raccoon.

“Rufus,” I said, my tail lashing. “What, exactly, do you think you’re doing?”

He grinned sheepishly, honey dripping from his whiskers. “Oh, hey, Sir Whiskerton. Fancy meeting you here.”

“Cut the act,” I snapped. “Why are you sneaking around the cornfield, scaring everyone with your ridiculous glowing honey jar?”

“Well,” he said, scratching the back of his neck, “I heard Farmer Joe talking about harvesting the corn soon, so I figured I’d grab a few ears for myself. But then I tripped over a beehive on the way here, and, uh… things got messy.”

“Messy?” I echoed, incredulous. “You’ve been parading around the farm, dripping honey everywhere and wailing like a banshee.”

“That wasn’t on purpose!” he protested. “I got the honey all over me, and then the bees started chasing me, so I ran into the cornfield to hide. I might’ve… panicked a little.”

“And the moaning?”

“I was trying to scare the bees away!” he said, throwing up his paws. “I didn’t realize I was scaring everyone else too.”

I stared at him, torn between exasperation and amusement. “You’re lucky I found you before Farmer Joe did,” I said. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up before you cause any more chaos.”

The Resolution

The next morning, I gathered the animals in the barnyard and explained what had happened. Rufus, still sticky but sheepish, stood beside me as I recounted the tale.

“So you see,” I concluded, “there is no phantom. Just a clumsy raccoon with a sweet tooth and a flair for the dramatic.”

The animals burst into laughter, their fear replaced by relief. Even Henny Penny managed a chuckle, though she still insisted she had “felt a ghostly presence.”

As for Rufus, he promised to stay out of the cornfield—at least until the honey washed out of his fur. Farmer Joe never found out about the incident, and the farm returned to its usual, mildly chaotic routine.

And me? I basked in the glory of another mystery solved, another crisis averted. The moral of the story? Sometimes, the scariest things are just sticky raccoons in disguise.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a sunbeam waiting for me.

The End.

Comix fun

Thailand Prepares for Full Membership of BRICS

Easiest Homemade Pizza Dough

Yield: 2 medium pizza crusts or one extra large pizza crust

Ingredients

1 cup plain Greek yogurt
1 to 1 1/2 cups self-rising flour, divided

Instructions

Combine yogurt and 1 cup flour in the bowl of an electric stand mixer. Mix until combined, scraping down the bowl as necessary until combined.
Knead on medium high for 5 minutes.
Slowly add additional flour as necessary to help dough come together. Depending on how thick your yogurt is, you may need up to an extra 1/2 cup of flour.
Dust clean counter top with flour and remove dough from bowl. Knead a few turns until dough is tacky, but not sticky. Roll out and add toppings as desired.
Bake in a preheated 450 degrees F oven for 10 to 12 minutes.

Bitcoin and the BRICS will make Hong Kong the biggest financial center in the world

Awakened by canoe

When I was in training for MAJestic, I lived in Ridgecrest, California and commuted to the China Lake NWC for my training. As I have discussed previously, it was in the middle of the desert. Beautiful and remote. But yes. Beautiful.

I would ride my motorcycle onto the base with my briefcase. In it would be a simple sandwich. Perhaps a bologna or peanut-butter and spaghetti sandwich. And enter the various gates to get to my area.

Anyways, during that time it was very, very hot.

Dry heat, but dangerous. You absolutely had to be hydrated.

And you know, guys, I wore a cologne. It was “Canoe”. This cologne (when ever I smell it in a store) transports me back to that time. It was a time of new beginnings. It was the start of my life.

In my early to mid-20s.

Canoe.

I find it AMAZING to me how a scent, or a smell, can transport me back in time. To a point where my memories are refreshed, and my emotions are all awakened.

Guys, and girls, never underestimate the power of scent.

Today…

What are some reasons for the negative sentiment towards the Chinese government (CCP) among its citizens?

That it’s too soft?

When the US had Canada kidnap the Huawei founder’s daughter and go around the world threatening countries to stop using Huawei, the CCP didn’t do shit but negotiate. Most Chinese would have liked to see the government act in kind, jailing Tim Cook’s family and seizing Apple’s productions and assets in China, nationalizing it and converting it into a Chinese brand, and sanction every country that followed the US in banning Huawei. Or for the bare minimum, couldn’t we have at least banned Apple like the US banned Huawei?

When Nancy Pelosi violated Chinese sovereignty by visiting Taiwan without Beijing’s approval, the CCP chose to do military drills around Taiwan after Pelosi had left. But most Chinese wanted to see her plane shot down for violating Chinese airspace. You have no idea the atmosphere of expectation for war on the ground in China that night. People were literally gathered with friends and family, anxious like before a sporting event. And man the absolute disappointment and humiliation the next day, when peace triumphed war.

When stupid Hong Kong “pro-democracy” protesters paid by the CIA took to the streets to free a convicted murderer of his girlfriend in 2019, Chinese across the country were shocked. When they started stabbing policemen and threatening the children of law enforcement, most Chinese just wanted to see the protestors and the CIA organizers (American diplomats) dead, or at least jailed. Yet the CCP chose to let the protest rage on and let the fed-up Hong Kongers deal with their own problem.

The CCP is rational and peaceful, too much so in the eyes of sentimental beings. The normal people don’t care about political compromise, we just want fairness, we want to hit back when someone hits us. And the CCP denies us that. That’s the main factor attributing to the negative sentiment toward the CCP at home.

Have you ever met a dangerous person and not known it at the time?

I met a man in Marina Del Rey where I lived. He said he was an airline pilot from France and he lived in the MDR towers. He asked me to dinner, I said yes, and I met him later that week at his apartment in the towers. The towers are sort of a club they have dining and all sorts of activities, so we were going to eat in the restaurant downstairs. While I was sitting on his sofa waiting for him, he offered me a drink. I don’t drink so I declined. I remember seeing a picture of him and his twin brother on his table. He told me they were both airline pilots. Then he offered me a soda but I don’t drink soda pop so I declined that as well. Both times he had already prepared the drinks and he seemed frustrated by my turning down the drinks. So he returned to his kitchen. While he was in the other room I got the worst feeling. Just a dreadfully fearful feeling. I picked up my purse, slipped out the door, took the elevator down and ran to my car. Several weeks later he and his twin brother were in the newspaper, they had been arrested for drugging and raping women. Neither were French nor were they pilots.

Pepperoni Pizza Pinwheels

Yield: 12 servings or 24 sample servings

Ingredients

1 (16 ounce) pouch Pantry Pizza Crust & Roll Mix (including yeast packet)
1 1/4 cups very warm water (120 to 130 degrees F)
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
2 garlic cloves, pressed
4 ounces mozzarella cheese, grated, divided (1 cup)
3 plum tomatoes, sliced
1 teaspoon Pantry Italian Seasoning Mix
1 (3.5 ounce) package thinly sliced pepperoni
1 ounce fresh Parmesan cheese, grated
1 (8 ounce) can pizza sauce, warmed (optional)

Instructions

Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
Brush cups of Stoneware Muffin Pan with vegetable oil using Pastry Brush.
In Classic Batter Bowl, combine mix, yeast, water and oil. Mix dough according to package directions for pizza crust.
Generously flour flat side of Large Grooved Cutting Board using Flour/Sugar Shaker. Using lightly floured Baker’s Roller, roll dough into a rectangle even with edges of Cutting Board. Press garlic using Garlic Press; spread evenly over dough using Skinny Scraper.
Grate half of the mozzarella cheese over dough using Deluxe Cheese Grater.
Slice tomatoes using Ultimate Slice & Grate fitted with v-shaped blade; arrange in a single layer over cheese and sprinkle with Seasoning Mi.
Arrange pepperoni slices evenly over tomatoes.
Grate remaining mozzarella cheese over pepperoni and tomato slices. Starting at longest edge, roll dough up tightly; pinch seam to seal.
Using Serrated Bread Knife, slice roll into 12 (1 1/2 inch thick) slices. Place slices, swirl side up, into cups of Muffin Pan. Grate Parmesan cheese; sprinkle evenly over rolls.
Bake 30 to 35 minutes or until deep golden brown.
Remove to Nonstick Cooling Rack; cool 5 minutes before removing from pan.
Serve with warmed pizza sauce for dipping, if desired.

Nutrition

Per serving (1 pinwheel): Calories 240, Total Fat 9g, Saturated Fat 3g, Cholesterol 15mg, Carbohydrate 28g, Protein 9g, Sodium 640mg, Fiber 0g

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Putin, China & Iran Ready for WW3 in 2025–Here’s Why w/ George Galloway

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Great Haystack Caper

Ah, you’ve returned for yet another tale of my unparalleled brilliance! Of course you have. How could you resist? Once again, I, Sir Whiskerton, the most cunning and sophisticated creature to ever grace this farm, have a story to share. This time, my razor-sharp intellect was put to the test in one of the most perplexing and ridiculous mysteries I have ever encountered: the Case of the Vanishing Haystack. Prepare yourselves for an adventure filled with absurdity, betrayal, and, of course, my undeniable heroics.

The Haystack Disappears

It all started on a breezy afternoon. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and I was perched on the barn roof, grooming my immaculate fur. Life was good. That is, until I heard the panicked braying of Gerald, the donkey.

“It’s gone! It’s gone!” Gerald cried, galloping around the farmyard like a lunatic.

I sighed deeply. Gerald is not the sharpest tool in the shed, but he’s harmless enough. However, his screeching was disrupting my peace, so naturally, I had to intervene.

“What’s gone, Gerald?” I called down, my voice dripping with boredom.

“The haystack!” he brayed, his eyes wide with terror. “The big haystack by the barn—it’s missing!”

“Missing, you say?” I leapt down from the roof and landed gracefully in front of him. “Haystacks don’t just walk away, Gerald. Are you sure you’re not just looking in the wrong place?”

“I’m sure!” he insisted. “It was there this morning, and now it’s gone! I—I was going to have a snack, and—poof—it’s gone!”

This was intriguing. Haystacks, as a rule, are large, immobile, and entirely incapable of disappearing without a trace. I decided to investigate, partly because I was curious and partly because I needed an excuse to stretch my legs.

The Scene of the Crime

When I arrived at the barn, I found a large, circular patch of dirt where the haystack had once stood. Bits of hay were scattered here and there, but the bulk of it was nowhere to be seen. A crowd of animals had gathered, all of them murmuring and speculating wildly.

“It must have been aliens!” Harold the rooster declared, flapping his wings dramatically. “They’ve come to take our hay for their experiments!”

“Oh, please,” I scoffed. “If aliens wanted hay, they could just grow their own. Use your brain, Harold—not that you have much of one.”

“I bet it was the wind,” Bessie the cow offered, chewing her cud thoughtfully. “A really, really strong wind.”

“Bessie, it would take a tornado to move that much hay,” I pointed out. “And unless I missed it, there hasn’t been a tornado today.”

The crowd fell silent, all eyes turning to me. They were waiting for me to solve the mystery, as they always did. I let out a dramatic sigh. “Fine. Let the great Sir Whiskerton handle it.”

The Investigation

As any seasoned detective knows, the first step in solving a mystery is to gather evidence. I sniffed around the patch of dirt, my keen senses picking up traces of hay, mud, and… something else. Something unusual.

“Hoofprints,” I muttered, examining the ground closely. “And not just any hoofprints. These are fresh, and they’re heading toward the pasture.”

The animals gasped.

“Do you think the thief is still out there?” Henny Penny squawked, clutching her feathers dramatically.

“Possibly,” I said, my tail twitching with anticipation. “Stay here and don’t touch anything. I’ll follow the trail.”

The Suspects

The hoofprints led me to the pasture, where I found the first suspect: Clover the goat. Clover is a mischievous little creature with a penchant for chewing on things that don’t belong to her. If anyone was capable of stealing a haystack, it was her.

“Clover,” I said, narrowing my eyes, “care to explain why there’s hay stuck to your horns?”

She looked up from the fence post she was gnawing on, her big yellow eyes filled with innocence. “Oh, this? I bumped into the haystack earlier. Honest! I didn’t take it!”

“Hmm,” I said, studying her carefully. She didn’t look strong enough to move an entire haystack, but I couldn’t rule her out entirely.

Next, I decided to question the pigs. Porkchop and his gang were lounging near the mud pit, as usual. “Porkchop,” I said, “did you and your crew have anything to do with the missing haystack?”

He snorted. “What would we want with a haystack? We’ve got slop, and slop is way better than hay.”

This was true. Pigs have no interest in hay, and their mud pit was far too small to hide an entire haystack. I moved on.

The Breakthrough

As I continued to follow the trail, I noticed that the hoofprints were becoming more erratic, as if the thief had been struggling to carry their loot. Then, I spotted something in the distance: a large pile of hay hidden behind the old apple tree.

“Gotcha,” I said, my whiskers twitching with satisfaction. I crept closer, and to my surprise, I found the culprit fast asleep on top of the stolen haystack.

It was Gerald. Yes, Gerald—the very donkey who had reported the haystack missing in the first place.

“Gerald!” I shouted, waking him with a start. “Care to explain why you’re napping on the stolen haystack?”

He blinked at me, his ears drooping in embarrassment. “Oh… uh… I guess I forgot. I moved the haystack over here because… um… the sun was better for napping. Then I got tired, so I… well, I fell asleep.”

I stared at him, utterly dumbfounded. “You caused this entire scene because you wanted to nap in the sun?”

Gerald nodded sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble. I just really like hay, and this spot looked cozy.”

The Resolution

I dragged Gerald back to the barn, where the other animals were waiting anxiously. When I told them what had happened, they erupted into laughter.

“Leave it to Gerald to forget he stole the haystack!” Harold cackled.

“I told you it wasn’t aliens!” Bessie said triumphantly.

As for me, I simply shook my head. “The moral of the story,” I announced, “is that sometimes the simplest explanation is the correct one. And also, donkeys are ridiculous.”

With the haystack returned to its rightful place, peace was restored to the farm. As for Gerald, he promised to stick to napping in the pasture from now on. And me? I retired to my favorite sunny spot on the barn roof, ready for the next absurd mystery this farm would inevitably throw my way.

The End.

Do you agree with Treasury Secretary Janet Yellen that “Ukraine’s success is in America’s core national interest”?

I used to respect Yellen thinking a person with a PhD has some morality. Boy, I was so wrong. She was as evil as Satan. She is so selfish. Only thinking about USA & not humanity in general. Since she is a Jewish American, perhaps like her bible, Jews are chosen people & all others are animals that can be slaughtered by the Jews.

The whole idea of the Ukraine war is to 1) gobble up Ukraine’s rich natural resources 2) weaken rival Europe’s economy & 3) lastly to break up Russia.

Of course, USA makes it look like Russia invasion. Russia’s fault.

USA, Yellen included, has the mentality of colonialism & ultra capitalism. How many people died in the Ukraine war? How many more deaths do Satan Yellen & USA want to make USA “great”?

I heard her speeches in universities. Soft spoken. But full of gossip-like speeches to create hatred & fear of China. I despise her. I hate Satan.

The Sopranos – Tony Soprano whacks Chucky Signore

As Samsung phone is for South Korea and iPhone for the US, what equivalent top tier phone is for China?

Xi jinping’s phone: Special customized Military-grade encryption zte axon smartphone, top configuration.

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Professional supply of CPC cadres, Chinese government cadres, diplomat, PLA cadres, not available in the market.

To Bake Under the Sun

Submitted into Contest #196 in response to: Set your story in a world where time travel has been perfected, and people can use it to hop between alternate timelines — but at a cost.… view prompt

Sam Jacobsen

This story contains themes or mentions of physical violence, gore, or abuse.

Earth is now a whisper–sad, desolate. For many miles, crags drone on in a ceaseless field of black. The rocks left behind are sharp and cracking, their shale falling down into pits of tar and sludge. At the peak of the highest crag is a glowing portal–our slip. It is a gate to another time; another place. We funnel through the slip like lemmings to the cliff, our eyes glazed and desperate. We being the last of us, that is. We come, warped and damaged by radiation, drought, famine, to escape. The seas and forests are gone, our beloved animals with them. The things which remain are warped and ugly: things which should never be trusted, and never be eaten. So, we march to the slip–to places bountiful and beautiful. Pilgrims, that is what we are, come to pray to our swirling god. Beyond and about the world burns, boils, breaks as it has for as long as we can remember. Overhead, toxicrows bark. Their call is a loathsome, lonesome thing–the song of our last birds. Earth, our mother, screams, spewing up green sludge with each cough. Only in the slips is there beauty anymore: a giant, rounded portal to a separate time, surrounded by copper machinery. Its many tubes, electrodes, and vents scream at us, begging for mercy. Big waste tubes run from it down into the crust of out world, pulsing like a sick vein.One of us steps forward–an irradiated man with burnt skin. He, smiling, steps through the slip and disappears. Not but a second later, a form falls from the sky in the distance and splats into a wide pit. Person by person the line decreases, its backmost reaches leading on for uncountable miles. As the unchanging light of our dying world filters on, I move.Soon, it is my moment. The slip towers above me–a welcoming swirl. With a nod, the slip-keeper–his fleshless face hidden behind a plague mask of junk–bids me enter. Stepping forward, I am swept up in the cold hug of the slip. Though I have never seen the sea, I know now how it feels to be adrift in it. It’s the soothing, amniotic rush through the fabric of many realities. Separate times flicker by like framed photographs behind dusty glass. There: a man learning to ride a bike. There: a lone fish in a wide, endless depth. They come in droves, these moments. The slip was perfected decades ago, and it leads me seamlessly to where I want to be.Colors rocket by, leading me to a time, a place, where all is clean and good. A time where my child is still alive; a place when flowers still grow. Here, things are foreign, yet familiar. At first, my head hurts–a symptom of slip-travel, or so I was told. But a headache is worth the time I have ahead. There are pools here…lakes…oceans. Forests too, and cities not held together by junk wire. I grow. I laugh. I love. I know it is not permanent, but the knowledge fades in time. What pain is there here but the prickle of pine needles underfoot? What sadness but the bitter-sweet, happy kind? I don’t go hungry here, nor fall to bits in the light of the sun. In my original time, rain was a stinging, stinking barrage. Here, it is beautiful. The mountains are clean; the skies are clear. I find I often wonder how I could have ever survived in such a place as the one I left. Yet, there is a ghost–lurking and terrible–in the shape of things. It is the shadow of what is. What will be. What I left. There’s something like guilt inside of me; I’ve sacrificed a life in my own time for a new one here. Is that so wrong? I did leave my friends…did leave my love. Surely, if they could see how beautiful this place is, they would not judge.A day comes when the slip-trip is done. The portal–once a friend, now angry and red–rips me from the separate place. I am shorn, tossed, discarded. Tired, I am deposited in the sludge pits of my ruined home. The slip had mangled me irreparably. My limbs are twitching goiters. My organs bloat and squeeze incorrectly; my flesh is a colorless bag of veins. My mouth slants up between my eyes, coils over my head, and back over my spine. My eyes–lidless now–are turned forever upwards to watch the blazing sky. Not even the toxicrows dare taste my flesh.In my world. but a second has gone by.I hear a friend scream at me from the line. “Look!” she says, “what fun you must have had.”She’s right.Watching the lines pour over the crags–the silhouettes marching into the slip–I grow to resent them. I had my time, but I want more. One by one the people return, cast down to wallow beside me, their DNA mutilated by the slip’s rays. We will never die now: the cost of a brief taste of utter serenity. Though we cannot shut our eyes, we sleep and dream all the same. Our lips gibber, teeth gnash, and we remember those separate times. Body by body, we grow in number until our pit is full. When there is no more room, the sun melts our bodies into one. Cobbled flesh, melded bones, our thoughts trail off and merge, our brain cells fusing together. My memories of flowers and my child become memories of slow, dark rain against a ship. Become the gentle breeze through palms on a quiet beach. Become the rhythmic thrum of heavy bass in a noisy club. Become hellos and goodbyes and tears and kisses and dancing and sex, each neural-fusing brining a new brilliant burst of light. Before long, the memories compile too many times over, and we become a mindless legion, our terrible form growing lost beneath falling shale and sludge. trapped in the dark, we can feel the weight of new slip-returnees plopped down. They enter, they live, they land here to bake under the sun.

How China is about to cause HUGE pain for America’s economy

Why isn’t China exporting robots?

Why did China showcase so many cool things in the last few days of 2024? Does China actually have much more potential than we thought?

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I bet you don’t know the latest Xiaomi Ninebot Scooter that has gyroscopic balance and can’t fall down , which can automatically drive itself from the parking lot for a 100 meter distance to where you are

That can be started by mobile phone if your key is lost

That can have a battery shutdown if security more is installed (meaning OTP or QR code Authorization mode can be activated)

Range is 185 Kms & Max Speed is 166 KPH but Median Speed is 77 KPH

It sold the most E Bike units in 2024 December and is priced at 11,999 Yuan & 14,999 Yuan

Cheaper than an iPhone or Huawei Foldable Phone

Imported Tax Free into India, it’s cost would be ₹ 1.33 Lakh

This year China approved it’s own Immunotherapy regime for Cervical Cancer and their own approved drug , made in China

Treatment cost reduces from 88,000 Yuan for a course to 26,000 Yuan for a course

The Swiss US FDA Drug isn’t banned.

You can choose to pay 90,000 Yuan for the US Product or 26,000 Yuan for the Chinese Product

Unfortunately neither is covered under insurance 😔

Chinas Potential is immense and it’s showcasing them regularly

Phytium and Loongson Processors once regarded as total junk are now performing on par with Intel Processors of 2 1/2 – 3 years ago

It’s a Nation on the move now !!!!

Scratched Wax

Chris Miller

“I see that you cannot take your eyes from the gifts time has bestowed upon me.” The Dealer’s eyes glinted through a fringe that lay over his face like the unearthed roots of a mangrove swamp. The roots fed a great vine of matted hair that climbed over his head in a dense coil and looped down to twist like a constrictor several times around his body.

“Stare,” he said in a delicate breath barely strong enough to carry the word, “every second you spend staring at me becomes mine.” He raised a thin hand and used the edge of a long, twisted fingernail to score a line into the body of the candle that burned on the table between us. “You may share my time until the flame erases the line.” His hand dropped to the table under the weight of his decades-long nails, which twisted like fuses and scraped toward me through the silence as he flexed his gnarled fingers. “Now, tell me your needs and learn my price.”

“I need to travel,” I said, focusing on the two sparks of candlelight reflected in The Dealer’s eyes, trying to ignore the huge figure who stood by his side, just visible at the edge of the small reality of candle-lit space.

“To the lived, or the unlived?”

“Back, I want to go back. To the lived.”

“Ah, yes, to revisit the lived is more valuable. We are all moving into the unlived, travelling there is a mere matter of efficiency, but to revisit the lived, that offers possibilities beyond comprehension, and so, to be blunt, it must attract a higher cost. How far do you wish to travel?”

“It depends on the price.”

“As so much does, indeed, as so much does,” sang The Dealer with a slow shake of his head. “I charge one hour for one scint,” he said flatly.

“Scint? The government are offering a minute for an hour, what’s a scint?”

“Ah, the government. Those philistines have no understanding of the true value of time, and they place such… illiberal limits on travellers. They make life so difficult for independent businessmen like myself and my colleague Mr Cleave,” said The Dealer with a slight nod to the figure at his side, “but in the face of adversity, we innovate! One hour of your life will buy you one scint of travel, one hundredth of an hour.”

“I don’t know. It’s expensive.”

The large figure stooped and a pale face with black-bagged eyes sunk into the candle’s glow. The head rolled slightly as scarred lips twitched and bounced, miming speech and poisoning the globe of candle light with sour breath, but remaining as silent as the sea bed. After a few seconds, when the lips were still, the words came.

“If you could get a government licence you wouldn’t be here. One hour, one scint. The rate is not negotiable.”

I nodded, holding the unblinking glare of the desynchronised addict as his face rose away from the flame and back into the darkness. I pretended not to have noticed his lag.

“You must forgive Mr Cleave,” said The Dealer. “He is a man of very liberal principles and deeply resents the government’s interference in our trade. He is a frequent micro-traveller and his, shall we say, sumptuous proclivities, have also rendered him somewhat… impatient. Let us come to an arrangement which will allow you to experience the pleasure that he knows so well.”

“I don’t think I can afford your rate. If it’s not negotiable then…”

“Let us not be too hasty. As I say, Mr Cleave lacks my patience. I am a businessman. Life is a negotiation. Everything is negotiable!”

Mr Cleave turned, perhaps piqued by his partner’s flexibility, and disappeared quickly into the darkness, to be followed shortly after by the beat of his bodyless footsteps.

“Come closer,” said The Dealer, “let me see the quality of the time you have to offer.”

I bent forward slightly in my seat, pushing my chin closer to the candle flame, over The Dealer’s claws. He mirrored my movement and the yellow light leapt to his long, grey beard as it swept like rain over the table. He turned briefly to his left and grunted. Hands, too small to belong to Cleave, reached out and fitted a jeweller’s loupe to the bridge of his nose. He turned back to me, aiming the lens into my eyes.

“You have travelled forty-two years, one-hundred and fifteen days, twenty-three hours and seventeen minutes… ah, eighteen. Your heart is good, despite your drinking, tut tut! But who am I to judge? We shall leave that to our priggish government, shan’t we?” He tapped his hands lightly as he peered, causing the nails to rattle and scrape on the table under my chin. “Please turn your head to the left. Yes. And now the right, yeeees, unremarkable but acceptable. And finally, to complete my process, you must tell me your father’s name.”

“Winston Craig.”

“My thanks. I see that there were some problems in your youth, the nature of them is unclear to me, but nothing to suggest that you will not have a perfectly average journey length. This would mean you have something in the region of thirty years left with which to deal. Regretfully, this is insufficient to purchase an amount of travel which could tempt me to negotiate on my rates.”

“I need a month,” I said “well, thirty days.”

“Thirty days. Seventy-two thousand scints at a cost of seventy-two thousand hours. Three thousand days, over eight years. Which means that, in line with my long-standing business practices, partially adopted at the insistence of my erstwhile associate Mr Cleave, regrettably, I must charge you nine. We only accept complete years I am afraid. A fee of nine years will purchase you a journey of thirty-two days. Always prudent to buy slightly more than you need, wouldn’t you agree? I’m sure that a pragmatist such as yourself can see that this is a wonderful deal.”

“It’s just… so much.”

“The journey you need to undertake is very valuable, my friend, maybe worth more to you than a mere nine years of your life?”

“It is important. The thing I have to do, it would change a lot.”

“And to relive the already lived would be inaccessible to you by any other means, by any licenced means, wouldn’t it?”

“It is a big decision.”

“Ah, my friend, it is no decision at all.” The Dealer grinned and aimed the lens of the loupe at the flame as it burned closer to the scored deadline in the wax. “I do not know when next I will be available for a consultation. It could be some time. Every second you hesitate is one you must buy back at the point at which you see sense.”

“I just don’t know.”

“Mr Cleave! Mr Cleave where are you? We are leaving!” The Dealer twisted indignantly in his seat and made a show of preparing to leave despite being incapable of so much as standing without assistance. “There is no creature so reprehensible as a time waster!”

“Wait,” I said quietly.

“Mr Cleave! Where has he got to?” The Dealer looked to the other figure in the darkness and hissed, sending them scuttling off to search for Mr Cleave.

“What if I had more time to offer? Not just more, but higher quality too?”

“I have appraised your time; higher quality would mean it would have to come from another donor.”

“Yes.”

“A younger donor?” The Dealer stopped looking around for Cleave and pointed his loupe at me once again, a flicker of candle light briefly flashing a magnified image of a hungry, yellow eye in the thick lens.

“Yes.”

The Dealer raised a hand and with a careful scrape of a nail scored a new line, lower down on the candle’s neck.

“You have my attention; you may share my time a little longer. But be warned; if you are wasting more of my time, you will find you have considerably less to deal with than I previously estimated. Mr Cleave will gladly relieve you of it.”

“I’m not wasting your time,” said a boy’s voice in the darkness.

“Who’s there?” said The Dealer, instinctively turning to his left for assistance and, finding none, stiffly jerking his neck to shake the loupe awkwardly away from his eye, unable to use his clawbound hands, helpless without Cleave or his other associate.

A boy of twelve stepped into the glow of the candle beside me. The Dealer rocked forward so far over the table that a few stray beard hairs curled and smoked in the candle’s orbit. The tip of his tongue flickered in his moustache.

“You would be prepared to offer the child’s time?” said The Dealer.

“Would you be prepared to appraise it?” I said.

“Oh, yes. Don’t worry, child, I won’t take a moment. Turn your head to the left for me.”

The boy complied, blanky obedient.

“Yes, good boy. And to the right… Yes… Closer to the flame, my Little Moth. Very good. And finally; what is your father’s name?”

“Winston Craig.”

“Ah, a family name, how traditional. My thanks, Little Moth.” He turned back to me, “I have seen enough. If you can guarantee that we could conduct our business without any, obstructions, then for the boy’s time I could match even our foolish government’s rates.”

“There won’t be any obstructions,” I said, looking at the boy who solemnly shook his head.

“What about the mother?” asked The Dealer.

“Mother’s dead,” I said.

“Ah, tragic. Such a waste, to die young,” said The Dealer affecting a frown that did little to conceal his obvious joy at the new opportunity.

“She was much older than me,” I said.

“Ah, well, tragic none the less. But we must not dwell on the past! Why dwell on it when you could soon dwell in it?” said The Dealer with a few sawing breaths of weak laughter that left spittle in his beard.

“So, you would take the boy’s time?” I confirmed.

“Oh, yes,” said The Dealer, any hint of humour gone.

“How much would you take?”

“Oh, he has so much to give…”

“What if I wanted to travel thirty years?” I asked.

“Well, my friend, as the wisest among us know, life is a negotiation, and I would negotiate… for a whole life,” said The Dealer, the flame picking out his unblinking eyes as it erased the line that should have marked the end of our meeting.

The boy and I looked at each other.

“Is that enough?” the boy said to me.

“Oh, that is enough!” yelped The Dealer, “that would buy so very much, my brave Little Moth.”

“I think we’ve got enough,” I replied to the boy as I rose from my chair.

“Please sit, my friend, we must conclude our business,” said The Dealer, a weak laugh nervously punctuating his words.

“Yes, let’s conclude our business,” said the boy.

“Yes,” I said, “No need to spend any longer on this one.” I hardened my voice as I had so many times before and addressed The Dealer, “You are under arrest for violation of section eight-B, chapter nine of novel three of the Temporal Protocol. It is my duty to inform you that I am a Constable of the Queen’s Government and that you are in my charge until I deliver you to a designated custody facility. Any resistance will be met with force, proportionate and reasonable, but otherwise unlimited. Do you understand?”

“Cleave!” cried The Dealer.

“I think he understands,” said the boy.

“There are about a dozen more crimes that you will be answering for, I could list them all, but I wouldn’t want to waste any more of your time,” I said.

“Mr Cleave!” shrieked The Dealer, “Mr Cleave, help me!”

“He can’t hear you. Byron Cleave was killed while resisting arrest. We took him yesterday morning, as soon as we positively identified him this afternoon,” I said. “He went for his weapon, that cumbersome thing that bulged in his jacket as he stooped to intervene in our negotiation, but I was faster. Maybe his lag was catching up with him.”

“No. This is preposterous! You cannot use travel to convict me. I know my rights; disordered events are inadmissible.”

“Our conversation here this evening will provide more than enough evidence.”

“Entrapment then! What despicable wretch would use a child in his scheme to corrupt an honest businessman? It is not legal; it will not stand. No child can agree to take part in this. Run child! Flee this heinous beast!”

“I could never get away from this man even if I did run. Anyway, it was my idea,” said the boy calmly.

“It cannot be. Trust a wise old man, your father, this wretch, whoever he is, has lied to you, used you. A child cannot agree to be exploited in this way. You were mere bait in his trap to ensnare an innocent entrepreneur.”

“Like I said, it was my idea,” I said.

“And mine alone,” said the boy.

“Ah…” said The Dealer as he slumped in his chair, his head rolling forward under the weight of his thick vine of hair. He stared at his finger nails, coiling and twisting over the table, their shadows tearing at its surface in the flickering light of the faltering candle. “In the panopticon they will take time’s gifts from me,” he said with a moan.

“They will take everything,” we said, as the candle guttered and died.

Shorpy

SHORPY 1951 oak ridge 14675388454.preview

SHORPY civil defense air raid drill 49774227527.preview

Scott Ritter: Germany is F*CKED as it faces total COLLAPSE, NATO in Big Trouble

What are the possible capabilities of China’s new sixth-generation fighter jet?

First there are 2 fighters and I am not sure why only one of those fighters is being talked about as the 2nd plane is just as important possibly as the first.

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The first fighter labeled the J-36 is a triangular tailless fighter/bomber. There are multiple ways that this fighter could be set up.

It could be used as a like a stealthy TU-22M3 with a range around 6000–7000km and speed over Mach 2 possibly closer to Mach 3. It would use most likely 3 WS-15 with total thrust output of 540KN or around 121,000lbs of thrust. Which with projected maximum weight of 50 tons would allow for a T/W of 1.21 at max afterburner. The armament is likely to either 10+ PL-15E’s or 6–8 PL-17’s with possibly 4 PL-12’s in smaller bays. The real question becomes how maneuverable will this plane be. It has the thrust but without vertical tails and what appears to be the lack of thrust vectoring it will very difficult to make agile. This why all NGAD renderings add canards to tailless designs to add better maneuverability. There are also theories on using puffs of air to move plane around but to date it has never been done.
It could be used as a stealth standoff missile carrier similar to B-21. It could have no afterburners and travel subsonic with long range cruise missiles to penetrate air defences and fixed targets on the ground . In this case the need for high maneuverability would not be important as most likely it would use the new 500km AKF98A missile. It could also hold multiple glide bombs, or drones.

The second is what is being called the J-50 this seems to be the fighter jet of the 6th generation for China. It is approximately 2 meters longer and 9m wider wingspan than J-20. The J-50 is believed to use the 2 WS-15 engines with estimated top speed of Mach 2+. This design will allow for larger payload due to additional length and width allowing for larger weapons bay. This is also a tailless design therefore the all aspect stealth should be greatly increased. The swept back wing design with adjustable tail fins will produce strong aerodynamic performance.

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All this analysis is speculation as all we have seen are pictures and videos, the Chinese military have provided no details. I have heard a lot of coping by both American and Indian media speaking about things like NGAD having belter avionics or that in does not have adaptive cycle engines therefore it is not 6th generation. The fact is that China is years ahead of the US in the 6th generation fighter currently. How can I say that? These were not first time flights, these were not yellow prototypes flying around. The color scheme alone lets you know that these fighters are in much later testing in the phase, maybe 2 to 3 years from production if not less especially for the J-36 which I believe is what was called up until a week ago the JH-26 had spy photo’s up long ago. In fact the Chinese may have more hiding in the background. For all those who think that US is so far ahead in technology whether it be chip, AI or R&D I would ask you to see how even with the US doing everything it possibly to retard Huawei ability to innovate it has not worked. Their AI models a year or two behind the Americans. That is not a significant enough gap in technology to speak of especially since the gap keeps closing.

Alleged JH-26 spy photo.

The point is this, if you took all the tech in the J-20 and just stuffed it into the J-36 added the rumored side arrays and additional optical. The improved stealth and range would make it a huge threat to all US carriers and naval vessels, Guam, Philippines and India. Fighter generations are a made up marketing tool by Lockheed Martin. Here is the question you need to ask? Will these new fighters make it easier for the Chinese to dominate the air and ground domain versus the US. The answer is yes and the Chinese will probably have a minimum 5 year head start. With China ability to manufacture equipment at the highest rate in the world that could be 50 fighters a year. That means in when the first Western 6th generation fighter roles off the assembly line there might already be 250 J-36’s and 250 J-50’s. There will be no recovering from that deficit. As the saying goes “quantity has a quality all it own”.

Why do old people not declutter their estate before they die and leave a huge cleanup burden on their children?

Hmmm. We are in our late 60’s and just downsized. We moved from a big 4 bed house to a condo.

We raised our kids in the old place and lived there 30 years. And yeah, we had a lot of stuff. All our parents and grandparents passed on and a lot of their stuff came to our house. We had a big basement, and a shed. Our kids moved in and out and in and out, leaving stuff stored. There was the archives of their childhoods. All kinds of tools and materials, and ladders and you name it from gardening and household projects. Holiday decor. Stuff from our respective careers and sports gear and hobbies.

We’d been looking at condos but in a slow motion, more to educate ourselves about neighbourhoods, amenities etc. we’d loved our house and our neighbourhood. Then we happened to see a condo on line, had a look, and that was it. We bought it. We were in the soup.

Getting rid of the stuff was awful. Serious, time consuming, hard work. Literal truckloads full being sorted and sent to auction, trash, donation. We gave what could be used to relatives and friends and kids. We forced kids and our son in law and daughter in law to come over and make decisions (it’s YOUR dresser and headboard, tell me what you want done with it).

Really painful decisions had to be made about cherished heirlooms and sentimental items we loved, but knew we’d have no space for. It was exhausting. It was grubby. It was overwhelming. It took forever. There were 100 million things I’d have MUCH rather been doing.

And yes, we hired help to get it done. We were motivated – and what’s more, we were healthy and physically well. We also hired a real estate agent who could help with prepping the old house for sale who had an eye for the neutral decor that sells these days (goodby burgundy living room and forest green dining room, lol)

Imagine if we’d waited a couple of years until we’d needed to move because one of us was ill, or had mobility issues. It was challenging enough on every front when we were relatively hale and hearty.

Getting settled in to our new place has also been a lot of work. I’m happy about it, but I’m also tired of thinking about window coverings and rugs and where things will fit. I’m tired of installing hooks and deciding where shelves need to go and where we will hang various pictures, and dealing with painters and electricians and plumbers. I’m sick of trying to figure out where I stashed things from boxes I’ve unpacked. I must have rearranged cupboards a half dozen times. No one likes moving. It’s expensive and inconvenient. It’s that much worse when you are older!

Take some pity on older folks. It would be totally too much for many. You basically have to do it long before you HAVE to and most folks don’t want to think about it, much less tackle it. It requires you to confront your own mortality and coming decline. You need to say – I can’t really go down those cellar steps safely…..or…..realistically, I’ll never mountain bike again…..or…..I loved to sew but my arthritis means I can’t any more. It’s hard to accept. It’s hard to part with things you love and hoped to use again.

In what ways do you think China’s treatment of Uyghurs contradicts its claim of upholding international norms?

China’s treatment of Uyghurs does not contradict its claim of upholding internationl norms. In fact, it is proof of China’s concern and caring for the Uyghurs. contrary to the lies of the US.

Consider the following factors:

POPULATION GROWTH

The Uygur population in Xinjiang has increased from over 8.34 million in 2000 to over 11.62 million in 2020. The growth rate was much higher than that of the country’s total ethnic minority population, which stood at 0.83 percent. This is not consistent with genocide.

EDUCATION

According to data from the seventh national census, 8,944 per 100,000 Uygurs had received a university education, an increase of 6,540 people compared to 2000, and the average years in education for those aged 15 and above also grew from 7.06 years in 2000 to 9.19 years in 2020. This is not consistent with a tribe being oppressed.

GDP

GDP has seen significant growth. This is not consistent with a tribe being oppressed. The flat chart between 2014 and 2016 is caused by the ETIM terrorists being most active and disruptive at that time.

UNEMPLOYMENT

Unemployment has been brought down to lower than the national unemployment rate. For example, for 2017, China’s unemployment rate was 4.4% and for 2018, it was 4.28%.

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TOURISM

Xinjiang has always been open to international tourism (not possible if there is oppression and genocide going on there).

From January to April this year (2023), Xinjiang received 51.2 million tourists (domestic and international), an increase of 29.6 percent year-on-year, with the region’s total tourism revenue rising 60.6 percent to hit 42.64 billion yuan ($5.45 billion)

Pepperoni Pizza Twist

Yield: 16 servings

Ingredients

1 (3.5 ounce) package pepperoni slices, diced
1 (3.25 ounce) can pitted ripe olives, drained and chopped
2 tablespoons snipped fresh parsley
1/2 cup (2 ounces) shredded mozzarella cheese
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 garlic clove, pressed
2 (11 ounce) packages refrigerated French bread dough
1 egg
1 teaspoon Italian seasoning mix
2 tablespoons (1/2 ounce) fresh grated Parmesan cheese
1 (15 ounce) can pizza sauce, warmed (optional)

Instructions

Heat oven to 375 degrees F.
Dice pepperoni. Chop olives. Snip parsley using kitchen shears.
In a bowl, combine pepperoni, olives, parsley, mozzarella cheese, flour and garlic. Mix well.
Place bread dough, seams sides up, on smooth side of a cutting board. Using a serrated bread knife, slice each loaf lengthwise, end to end, cutting halfway through to center of loaf. Spread open flat. Lightly sprinkle additional flour over dough.
Using roller, roll dough crosswise to a 4 inch width, creating a well down center of each loaf. Spoon half of the pepperoni mixture down center of each loaf. Gather up edges over filling, pinching to seal.
Place loaves, seam sides down, in an x pattern on a rectangular baking stone or baking sheet. Crisscross ends of dough to form a large figure 8, keeping ends of dough 1 inch from edge of stone and leaving two 11/2 inch openings in center of twist.
Separate egg over a bowl; discard yolk. Beat egg white and seasoning mix; lightly brush over dough with pastry brush. Using serrated bread knife, cut a 3-inch slit in each of the top sections of the twist to reveal filling.
Grate Parmesan cheese over loaf.
Bake 30 to 32 minutes or until deep golden brown.
Remove to cooling rack and cool 10 minutes.
Cut into 16 slices.
Serve with warm pizza sauce, if desired.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Major Institutions Now Predict Complete Economic Collapse

In praise of Luckin

I drink coffee. Oh not like I used to. But by adaptation.

You see, coffee culture in China is much different than what I have grown up with in the United States.

In the 1960’s, coffee was the cheapest thing you could get. A cup was a solid dime. that’s ten cents, and it was served on bang-on-the-table ceramic mugs. Unlimited refills were the norm.

At work it was offered free to the staff.

At home it was a fixture of life.

Well… that and beer. And cigarettes.

Then during the 1970s, the price of coffee went sky-high.

Some companies offered coffee vending machines that held small cups of very strong coffee.

By the 1970s, it was still inexpensive, but the company started charging the people to buy the coffee. We would have “collections” and then mandatory “deductions” from our pay for our contributions. We drank them from a coffee service.

Greed hit America in the 1980s.

The prices of coffee rose and rose, and with that came changes in how we drank coffee.

I would prefer to make my own. Sometimes over a fire, but mostly however I can and available at the time.

But then came Starbucks…

Starbucks started making huge profits, and became a “thing”. People who normally would have spent a quarter (twenty five cents) for a cup of coffee started paying a few dollars for the same thing. Coffee became romanticized.

The Chinese saw that the ENORMOUS profits can be extracted by selling on image though coffee; the Starbucks model. And they all wanted a piece of this.

Thus… China embraced this.

Drinking Starbucks coffee inside a coffeehouse became fashionable. And thus the price of coffee (out of Starbucks) became much more expensive. More so than anywhere in the West.

And then something happened…

Everyone started opening up their own coffee franchises.

Luckin Coffee (瑞幸咖啡)

As they grew, so did the hatred and I mean visceral hate that how dare the Chinese dare take away coffee market-share!

And it was eroding FAST!

Number of Starbucks and Luckin Coffee stores in Chinas selected cities

And thus came the flood of the anti-Luckin propaganda. Probably originating from a unity of the anti-China neocon cabal, and the Starbucks mega-corporation. Working together as a serious attempt to CRUSH and DESTROY the growing coffee threat to American dominance in coffee.

Tons of propaganda.

Here’s a typical “report”…

Read the propaganda HERE.

Yeah… “why its business model is inherently flawed“.

Uh huh.

Sure.

It was everywhere in 2019.

Here’s another…

Read this nonsense HERE.

…

In 2019 they WARNED “Stay away from Luckin”.

Tons of articles. Literally thousands a day…

And with all the negative press, Americans came to believe that investing in Chinese coffee franchises were a highway to disaster.

And many in the West believed the propaganda.

So they shied away from investing.

But NOT the Chinese.

And so regardless of the propaganda spewing forth, Luckin prospered.

And thus… the enormous Chinese market pushed Luckin to become one of the top coffee franchises in China.

It’s 2025.

Six years after the anti-Luckin barrage.

Luckin is PROSPERING.

And REMAINS a serious contender to Starbucks.

Stealing or siphoning away perhaps as much as one half of Starbucks potential revenue streams.

Today, Luckin is one of the most popular brands in China.

Overview: A Chinese-born coffee chain that has rapidly expanded since its founding in 2017. Known for its tech-driven approach, Luckin focuses on affordability, convenience, and fast delivery.
Popularity: Gained massive popularity through app-based ordering and heavy discounts.
Unique Features: Focus on takeaway and delivery, competitive pricing, and frequent promotions.

But you know, there are many others…

Manner Coffee (Manner咖啡)

Overview: A Shanghai-based coffee chain known for its minimalist design, high-quality coffee, and affordable prices. It has gained a cult following among young professionals.
Popularity: Rapidly expanding in major cities like Shanghai, Beijing, and Shenzhen.
Unique Features: Focus on sustainability, BYO cup discounts, and small store formats.

Seesaw Coffee (Seesaw咖啡)

Overview: A Chinese specialty coffee chain that emphasizes artisanal coffee and a third-wave coffee culture. It has a strong following among coffee connoisseurs.
Popularity: Growing presence in major cities like Shanghai and Beijing.
Unique Features: Focus on coffee craftsmanship, barista training, and unique store designs.

Pacific Coffee (太平洋咖啡)

Overview: A Hong Kong-based coffee chain that has expanded into mainland China, offering a mix of Western and Asian-inspired coffee drinks.
Popularity: Popular in business districts and among office workers.
Unique Features: Blend of Eastern and Western coffee culture, loyalty programs.

M Stand

Overview: A Chinese coffee chain known for its trendy, Instagrammable stores and innovative coffee drinks.
Popularity: Popular among young, urban consumers.
Unique Features: Creative menu items (e.g., cookie-shaped cups), modern store designs.

The Chinese coffee brands are cheaper than Starbucks, and often of higher quality as they don’t over roast for production consistency. Resulting in a more complex coffee taste and that is beneficial. As most Chinese coffees offer unique flavors and variations of coffee.

Of course, you can still get Western brands in China…

McCafé (麦咖啡)

Overview: McDonald’s coffeehouse chain, offering affordable coffee and snacks. It has gained traction in China due to its convenience and brand recognition.
Popularity: Widely accessible due to McDonald’s extensive network.
Unique Features: Affordable pricing, combo deals, and convenient locations.

Tim Hortons (Tims China)

Overview: A Canadian coffee and donut chain that has entered the Chinese market with a focus on localization and affordability.
Popularity: Growing presence in cities like Shanghai and Beijing.
Unique Features: Canadian-inspired menu, affordable pricing, and localized offerings.

% Arabica

Overview: A Japanese coffee franchise that has gained popularity in China for its sleek design and high-quality, single-origin coffee.
Popularity: Popular in affluent urban areas and among coffee enthusiasts.
Unique Features: Minimalist aesthetic, focus on specialty coffee, and Instagram-worthy stores.

Now, I was raised in a home where everyone had a pot of coffee on the stove. And when friends came over, you would warm up the pot on the stove and pour a cup of really thick coffee to share.

Ah those days are gone.

But today, drinking coffee in China is different, and I tend to enjoy the ice cream coffee infusions that seem to be very popular. Oh, sure, I still enjoy a nice cup of hot coffee, but iced coffee seems to take the lead in China and everyone drinks it.

As do I.

Now and again.

Enjoy your joe. Guys.

Enjoy your joe.

Today…

Has anyone ever gotten over a cheating scandal/affair and continued to live with the significant other who did it? Is betrayal something you can really ever get over within a relationship?

When you are cheated on the person had not only lost trust but also respect. Both I believe can be earned again but would require much work an bs effort on both parties. If the cheater does not take accountability for their actions, show remorse and change their ways then I would say no the relationship can’t survive.

Personally I would/ am having a hard time trusting them. Everything they do seems suspicious now. Working on making myself stronger and ready to stand on my own two feet again b4 I walk. The lying and mean deflections thrown at me when this came to light died me there is no love, respect or care. Ask yourself…are you happy? Are they staying bc of the family home/assets? Many factors to coinage consider when determining if it can work out after.

Sincerely wishing you the best possible outcome for YOU! Whatever u choose to do, please keep your own self at the top. YOU are the most important factor when making ur decisions.

Family Style Calzone

Yield: 12 servings or 24 sample servings

Ingredients

1 egg, separated
1/2 cup pitted ripe olives, chopped
1/4 cup fresh parsley, snipped
6 ounces mozzarella cheese, shredded, divided (1 1/2 cups)
2 1/2 ounces Parmesan cheese, grated (1/2 cup + 2 tablespoons)
1 (15 ounce) container part-skim ricotta cheese
1 (16 ounce) pouch Pantry Pizza Crust & Roll Mix (including yeast packet)
1 tablespoon Pantry Italian Seasoning Mix
1 1/4 cups very warm water (120 to 130 degrees F)
4 ounces sliced pepperoni, divided

Instructions

Heat oven to 425 degrees F.
Separate egg over Small Batter Bowl using Egg Separator; beat lightly. Set egg yolk aside, covered, for later use. Chop olives using Food Chopper. Snip parsley with Kitchen Shears. Grate mozzarella and Parmesan cheeses using Deluxe Cheese Grater. Add olives, parsley, ricotta cheese, 1/2 cup of the mozzarella cheese and 1/2 cup of the Parmesan cheese to Batter Bowl; mix well with Classic Scraper. Set aside.
In Classic Batter Bowl, combine Pizza Crust & Roll Mix with yeast packet and Seasoning Mi. Add warm water and stir until mixture forms a ball.
Turn dough out onto well-floured Cutting Board. With floured hands, gently knead dough 8 to 10 times. Divide dough in half using Handy Scraper. Flour both sides of dough using Flour/Sugar Shaker; roll out one piece of dough to edge of Cutting Board using Dough and Pizza Roller. Place dough in bottom of Rectangular Baker, shaping to cover bottom.
Sprinkle 1/2 cup of the mozzarella cheese over dough to within 1/2 inch of edge. Layer half of the pepperoni over cheese. Spread ricotta mixture evenly over pepperoni. Top with remaining pepperoni and mozzarella cheese.
Roll out remaining dough and place over filling. Press dough all around edge to seal with bottom crust. Brush surface of dough with reserved egg yolk using Pastry Brush. Sprinkle with remaining Parmesan cheese. Using V-Shaped Cutter, cut a decorative X pattern over surface of dough, creating holes in top layer, for steam to escape.
Bake 20 to 25 minutes or until deep golden brown.
Allow to stand 10 minutes before cutting.

Notes

1 (16 ounces) package hot roll mix can be substituted for Pantry Pizza Crust & Roll Mix, if desired.

Nutrition

Per serving: Calories 320, Total Fat 15g, Saturated Fat 8g, Cholesterol 50mg, Carbohydrate 30g, Protein 16g, Sodium 860mg, Fiber 0g

Attribution

Pampered Chef

My boyfriend screenshot and saved my 16-year-old daughter’s photo in a swimsuit. I broke up with him. Did I do the right thing?

That is a tricky question because i have a girlfriend that has a 13 year old girl and she is very pretty and yes i do have pictures of her usually that my girlfriend sends me and i save them but i do not hide them. I am against relationships with under age girls and massage thinking she is pretty, there is no sexual attraction and that’s what you really want to know if your boyfriend has. I would have been questioning him he may not be guilty of anything unless he is trying to hide it as for me i do not have any screenshot of her daughter. Most of the pictures i have is when my girlfriend get money from me and will buy her a dress or shoes for something along that line and send me a picture. There is really no more to say

Exposition (Green Flag #1)

What’s the most humiliating thing a doctor has ever said to you?

He told me I was perfectly healthy, then he held my hand, while I sobbed my denials, then looked me in the eye and told me I needed a therapist.

The kindness was the worst part. He was absolutely wrong, and oh-so-sure I was ‘in need of help.’ I was in need of help. My tonsils were rotting under a lovely pink layer of seemingly healthy skin. How an ENT could have missed this I don’t know, but I was already sleeping on the pavement walking between buildings for classes–I remember someone asking me if I was ok, and telling them the bricks were just so lovely-warm… It was February. In Virginia.

A month later I couldn’t go 12 hours off antibiotics without running a fever. Student health sent me to a different ENT and he spotted the problem. He put me on 60 days of penicillin (I’m not kidding) to get me healthy enough for surgery, after which the surgeon told my mother my tonsils were the nastiest necrotic mess he’d ever seen.

It’s just an awful thing, being told to get therapy by an expert who doesn’t believe you’re sick. Doctors do it a lot. I’ve had it happen several times, but that was my first.

What’s the fastest you’ve wiped a smirk off of someone’s face?

I was at a (get this) Church social club for kids when some random kid asked me how old I was

“Eleven”, I replied. His reply, as he punched me clean in the mouth, was “All the best kids are 13!”

My brother looked over a few minutes later and came to ask what had happened as he’d noticed me with a bloody lip.

The wannabe bully boy shouted over to me as he left grinning at the end of the session “Don’t forget, all the best kids are 13”

“Wrong!” Said my brother, who was waiting by the door “the best kids are 14!” as he floored him with one punch.

Never had any crap from him again.

Investor alert: China is drinking a lot more coffee, and taking the supply chains off our exchanges

The inspiration for today’s intro.

What’s Really Going On In the South China Sea Between the Philippines and China
December 4, 2024 Ms. Cat

What’s Really Going On In the South China Sea Between the Philippines and China

by Tina Antonis

Maritime clashes between the Philippines and China had been mostly over the Philippines’ military outpost, BRP (BRP—Barko ng Republika ng Pilipinas, which translates to “Ship of the Republic of the Philippines”—the ship prefix for the Philippines) Sierra Madre, in the Spratly Islands, which is disputed by Brunei, China, Malaysia, the Philippines, Taiwan (a province of China, as recognized by the United Nations’ Resolution No. 2758), and Vietnam.

The BRP Sierra Madre was intentionally run aground on a reef near the Second Thomas Shoal in the disputed Spratly Islands, in 1997, so that the Philippines could stake their territorial claim.

The WWII-era ship is rusted out and on its way to disintegrating. In December 2023, the Philippines allocated funds to replace the ship with a permanent structure. Coincidentally, in September 2023, Blake Herzinger, a research fellow at the United States Studies Centre of the University of Sydney, penned an article titled, “It’s Time to Build Combined Forward Operating Base Sierra Madre.”

This outpost would be “manned by combined rotational forces from both the Philippines and the U.S. Marine Corps,” according to Herzinger. In it, he admits that doing so, “would be a provocative move, and it would not be without significant risk.”

In October 2023, the Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFU) admitted that their resupply missions to the BRP Sierra Madre were carrying materials that were used in the maintenance and repair of the ship. China had been accusing the Philippines of using its resupply missions to send “illegal building materials” to reinforce the dilapidated ship on several occasions. In June of this year, The Financial Times revealed that the Philippines had “secretly” reinforced the BRP Sierra Madre at the Second Thomas Shoal.

On March 5, 2024, in response to an incident at the Second Thomas Shoal, U.S. State Department Spokesperson Matthew Miller stated that “Article IV of the 1951 U.S.-Philippines Mutual Defense Treaty extends to armed attacks on Philippine armed forces, public vessels, or aircraft, including those of its coast guard, anywhere in the South China Sea.” At the time, the crash was “not the time or reason to invoke a Mutual Defense Treaty with the United States,” according to Philippine President Bongbong Marcos. Invoking the Mutual Defense Treaty by the Philippines could lead to an armed conflict between China and the U.S. Military.

Recently, these clashes have been occurring at the Sabina Shoal, another disputed atoll in the Spratly Islands. In May, the Philippines claimed that China was carrying out “small-scale reclamation” and anchored the BRP Teresa Magbanua at Sabina Shoal to “catch and document the dumping of crushed corals over the sandbars” (China denied this). The Philippines had been using the BRP Teresa Magbanua as a staging area for their resupply missions to the BRP Sierra Madre at Second Thomas Shoal.

A new Philippine Coast Guard vessel was sent to Sabina Shoal, according to Jonathan Malaya, the spokesperson for the National Security Council of the Philippines, on September 26. However, he declined to comment on the specifics of their intentions or plans citing operational security concerns.

Behind the scenes, an information operation has been going on. Information operations, also known as influence operations, involve spreading misleading information and obtaining tactical knowledge about competitors to get the upper hand. Think tank representatives, financed by the US government and corporate sponsors, have been working with the Philippine Coast Guard on ”assertive transparency,” or what the Philippines calls their “transparency initiative.”

With grants from the U.S. State Department, between 2022 and 2024, the Stratbase ADR Institute held a series of roundtable discussions highlighting the importance of multilateral cooperation and strategic alliances in addressing regional “security challenges” and “public diplomacy,” or the act of “influencing foreign publics” to support “U.S. foreign policy goals.”

On January 5th, 2023, Stratbase, together with the US Embassy in the Philippines, hosted a town hall discussion where experts and scholars shared their assessments and recommendations on the various Indo-Pacific strategies and the foreign policy of Marcos Jr.’s administration.

It was here that Ray Powell introduced his “Project Myoushu” strategy, which was inspired by the Asia Maritime Transparency Initiative at the Center for Strategic and International Studies (CSIS). CSIS receives funding from the U.S. government and other governments allied with the U.S., non-governmental and nonprofit organizations (NGOs & NPOs), defense contractors and other corporate donors. Another such event occurred on March 8th, 2023, where Ray Powell gave a presentation in which he described using “independent analysts, storytellers, influencers, media, and embedded journalists.”

Powell, a veteran of the U.S. Air Force and a former Defense Attaché (the Defense Attaché System is part of the Defense Intelligence Agency, the “Pentagon’s top spy agency”), is the team lead of SeaLight, at Stanford University’s Gordian Knot Center for National Security Innovation (GKC). The creation of Stanford University’s GKC was sponsored by the Office of Naval Research (ONR), an organization within the Department of Defense.

Stanford University has contracts with the U.S. government. The center’s goal is to assist the U.S. government in rethinking how it approaches “national security” matters.

The “transparency initiative” tactic highlights China’s “gray zone activities”, in the South China Sea. One aspect used is embedding journalists on these resupply missions.

The original purpose of embedding was to control journalists, according to Helen Benedict, a professor at the Columbia Journalism School. Citing award-winning Australian journalist Phillip Knightley’s book “The First Casualty: The War Correspondent as Hero and Myth-Maker from the Crimea to Iraq” which describes how the U.S. government invented embedded journalism in response to critical coverage of the Vietnam War.

As civilian casualties in Afghanistan reached 5,000, the Pentagon sought a media strategy that would bring attention back to the military’s role in the war, especially the role played by ordinary American service members. This would require bringing war correspondents on side.

Another aspect of this “transparency initiative” is using civil society organizations, such as the Atin Ito Coalition, led by Rafaela David and Edicio dela Torre, to draw attention to the South China Sea. Rafaela is also the executive director of the Center for Youth Advocacy and Networking (CYAN). CYAN has been financed from the National Endowment for Democracy (NED), which gets the majority of its funding from the U.S. Congress. With its origins dating back to the late 1960s, when the Central Intelligence Agency faced criticism for secretly supporting activists and opposition groups in nations that appeared to be leaning closer to the Soviet Union.

Following the revelation of those CIA plots, the agency faced criticism for what some perceived to be devious manipulation of sovereign states. Congress established the NED in 1983 after years of discussion about whether and how the financing should continue.

Edicio dela Torre is the current President and Vice Chairperson of the Philippine Rural Reconstruction Movement (PRRM). The PRRM was started in 1952 by Chinese rural education advocate Y. C. James Yen with financial assistance from the United States and the Rockefeller family. In 1983, Yen was awarded the People to People Eisenhower Medallion.

The People-to-People Program was initiated by President Dwight D. Eisenhower, with initial connections to the U.S. government through the United States Information Agency (USIA).

The USIA’s public diplomacy activities were ultimately transferred to the U.S. Department of State, while its propaganda operations were transferred to the Broadcasting Board of Governors, which has since become the U.S. Agency for Global Media. In the 1950s, during the Hukbalahap Rebellion, the CIA covertly funded the PRRM through front organizations such as the Asia Foundation (formerly the Committee for a Free Asia) and the Catherwood Foundation.

On September 15th, Powell appeared on 60 Minutes, along with the Philippine Secretary of National Defense Gilbert Teodoro, and the Chief of Staff of the Armed Forces of the Philippines Romeo Brawner Jr. In the 60 Minutes episode, Teodoro refused to confirm if the Typhon missile launcher—a mid-range missile system capable of reaching mainland China—would be permanently stationed in the Philippines.

Three days later, Philippine army spokesperson, Colonel Louie Dema-ala, said training was ongoing, and it was up to Philippine authorities and the United States Army Pacific Command (USARPAC) to decide how long the missile system would stay.

Presently, the Typhon is situated in the Taiwan Strait and faces the South China Sea on the northern island of Luzon. In early September, the U.S. announced that it wants to deploy another Typhon missile launcher “around Japan’s southwestern islands, which are near Taiwan”. While the U.S. claims that these missile launchers are to “strengthen deterrence”, their deployment has only provoked tensions in the area.

While 60 Minutes did state that “in 2016, an international tribunal at The Hague ruled the Philippines has exclusive economic rights in a 200-mile zone that includes Sabina Shoal” and that “China does not recognize the ruling”, their statements were misleading. The South China Sea Arbitration did not rule on sovereignty, and China does not recognize it because the Arbitral Tribunal lacked jurisdiction.

“The Arbitral Tribunal violated the principle of state consent, exercised its jurisdiction ultra vires and rendered an award in disregard of the law. This is a grave violation of UNCLOS and general international law, Wang said.”

The United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) is an international treaty that establishes a legal framework for all marine and maritime activities. The Permanent Court of Arbitration (PCA) is not an agency of the United Nations. The PCA rents space in the same building as the UN’s International Court of Justice.

A Congressional Research Service report, dated August 2023, stated that the U.S. has not declared its position regarding sovereignty over any of the geographical elements that comprise the South China Sea.

The United Nations Conference on Trade and Development (UNCTAD) estimates that about 80% of global trade is carried out by sea, both in terms of volume and value. Of that amount, 60% of marine trade travels through Asia, with approximately one-third of all shipping occurring in the South China Sea. Because the Strait of Malacca connects the South China Sea and, consequently, the Pacific and Indian oceans, China, Taiwan (the United States does not officially support Taiwan’s independence), Japan, and South Korea depend heavily on its waters.

China’s economic security is intimately linked to the South China Sea, as the country has the second-largest economy globally and more than 60% of its trade is conducted by water. If the U.S. were to attempt to enforce a blockade in the South China Sea, they would risk retaliation from China.

A war with China would not only interrupt international trade, it’s highly probable that the United States would lose due to China’s anti-access/area denial (A2/AD) capabilities. Anti-Access refers to any action, activity, or capacity, usually long-range, that is intended to prevent an advancing military force from accessing an operational area.

Area denial is described as any action, activity, or capability, usually short-range, that is intended to limit an adversary force’s freedom of action inside an operational area. Long-range artillery and rocket weapons, air defenses, littoral anti-ship capabilities, and layered, integrated long-range precision-strike systems are all part of the threat A2/AD defense architecture.

China’s advanced A2/AD system includes missiles and hypersonic weapons, which the US lacks defense against. China is also developing microwave-photonic radar systems to track incoming hypersonic missiles, potentially enabling defense against powerful militaries’ latest offensive technologies.

The Philippines, has succeeded in garnering support from Western countries through military assistance, funds to upgrade military bases and infrastructure, modernize the Armed Forces of the Philippines, defense agreements with at least 18 countries (minilateralism), joint military exercises in the South China Sea, and the addition of four new EDCA (under the Enhanced Defense Cooperation Agreement, American military personnel, planes, and ships may station themselves periodically in the Philippines at predetermined places) sites—three in north Luzon facing Taiwan and one in Palawan facing the South China Sea.

China sees this “coalition of the willing” as undermining “regional security and peace.”

The Philippines should seek détente with China and practice quiet diplomacy, as their “transparency initiative” has only escalated tensions in the South China Sea, instead of risking World War III.

You’re NOT Behind: Why Everyone SEEMS To Have More Money Than You

How does China’s J-20 compare with its US counterpart F-35?

You Americans just deceive those allies who bought your planes, don’t deceive yourself.

Yes, the F35 does not pursue the ultimate flight speed, nor the ultimate performance, but all-around.

The result became a four-dimensional image.

The maximum flight speed of the F35 is only Mach 1.6.

OK.

The new J35 supersonic cruise has Mach 2.3.

And the F35 is now difficult to continue production because China has restricted the export of key raw materials.

Is the F35 really considered a fifth-generation aircraft? It’s not even as good as the F22 from over forty years ago.

The F22, a fifth-generation aircraft, is a fifth-generation old aircraft with a maximum speed of Mach 2.25, a normal supersonic cruise of less than Mach 2, a maximum range of only more than 2,000 kilometers, and a maximum combat radius of 800.

The J20’s normal supersonic cruising speed exceeds Mach 2.5, and its maximum speed is Mach 2.8. Now there is also a two-seater J20S.

Oh, I forgot.

Now the United States cannot produce F22.

Because the production line is gone.

China has just overtaken Japan as the worlds top car exporter. Could Japan possibly take back the spot sometime in the future?

Japan’s auto industry is lost – its global position almost to be completely and permanently toppled.

What is happening in Japan is also happening to the other home of the global auto legacies – Germany.

The auto industry defines these two most industralized countries for the last half century . . . . with its sphere of influence extending beyond not just the economics. . . . but the social and political.

Even up to this mid-year, Akio Toyoda can still be seen peddling – and leading the charge of his fellow auto makers – in promoting the hydrogen car and retaining as much as possible the place of the ICE cars for the future. This is until he was replaced and no mention of the hydrogen has been heard since. But there is BMW still promising the notion of the water-engine car as an alternative to EV is still alive.

The main driver for this resistence to EV? Japan and Germany have the huge ecosystem of manufacturing ICE cars that will have to be “replaced” – i.e., millions of workers fired and massive plant closures to transition to a new EV ecosystem requiring new sets of resources, increasingly to be software assuming a greater proportion relative to hardware – a transition from analog to digital.

Japan’s and Germany’s halfhearted effort at developing its EVs have shown them to be at least 5 years behind China . . . . and even further behind if taken within the context of developing the supply chain to have a semblance of independence from China’s.

German, Japanese and Koreans are seeing their Chinese market share declining or collapsing that they were so dominant just 4 years ago. And losing position in the world’s largest market means losing their global positions as Chinese EV are now waging its offensive to takeover overseas markets.

China is on the ascendancy in dominating the global auto industry and there is very little the Germans and Japanese can do to change the trajectory because in reality this transition is not just to the EVs but to the SMARTCARS, the extension of the digital age from the smartphone. Western media has focused on the jaggernaut of BYD but is not making the world aware of the greater significance of the software Chinese EVs are being incorporated with.

Huawei is implementing its Harmony operating system as an alternative to Andriod and by extension its NearLink technology and alliance – to replace WIFI and bluetooth – as their technologies for China’s IoT platform and ecosystem. Note that the two hottest selling EVs in China are those from Huawei and Xioami. This is making EVs with software to be the central focus of mobility in the IoT ecosystem of smart devices of the future. This is China now defining and setting industry standards not just for the future of mobility but for all future smart devices .

Modern Women LOVE to Destroy MEN’S Hobbies | Pearl Daily

Is it reasonable for a wife to accept another man’s invitation for just her to go to his house for a swim at 1am, & for her to go wearing only a bikini & a totally translucent gown. Is it reasonable for a husband to get upset in such a situation? Tx!

It’s unreasonable for the wife to accept the invitation and all that entails as well as wrong.

But an invitation to go swimming with another man alone at 1am is rarely the beginning of this unreasonable act. Someone has not been present in the relationship to even consider the spouse would or should have no problem with it. And something want south before the invitation for your wife to consider wanting to accept instead of being offended by it. Don’t let anyone play dumb with you. Find out what those something’s are and go from there. Actually this is really too far.

The main contents of this issue of China Military News:

The new submarine is unveiled for the first time! Under the guidance of Xi Jinping’s thought on strengthening the army, we will forge ahead on the road to strengthening the army and fight a decisive battle; the navy and air force of the Southern Theater Command are on combat readiness patrol around China’s Huangyan Island; the Navy’s Sichuan ship is officially launched; approaching the field command post of a brigade in the Eastern Theater Command; a direct visit to the PLA’s winter training ground; Xinjiang Military Region border guards: guarding the Karakoram Mountains with loyalty; the Eastern Theater Command’s “Red Sharp Knife Company” – unmanned equipment is refined and powerful; China’s space station is operating well, and its application results are fruitful…

Main content of this episode: President Xi Jinping emphasized: “Building a strong modern navy is an important symbol of building a world-class military, a strategic support for building a maritime power, and an important part of realizing the Chinese dream of the great rejuvenation of the Chinese nation.” “In the journey of the new era, in the struggle to realize the great rejuvenation of the Chinese nation, the task of building a strong people’s navy has never been as urgent as it is today.” From the first aircraft carrier Liaoning to the first domestically-produced aircraft carrier Shandong, and then to the first domestically-produced catapult-type aircraft carrier Fujian, the Chinese Navy has continuously made major breakthroughs! 2024 is about to come to an end. Looking back on this year, the Chinese military has made sonorous steps and written countless glorious chapters on the journey of strengthening the army. From the continuous emergence of new weapons and equipment, to the actual combat training on the PLA’s military training ground, from the responsibility of joint exercises and training between China and foreign countries, to the firm protection of sovereignty, Chinese soldiers have forged an indestructible Great Wall of Steel with their blood and loyalty.

Me and my ex share several mutual friends. He is constantly bad mouthing me behind my back and calling me his “left overs” and sharing intimate details about me and my body. It’s taking everything in me to not call him up and defend myself. Should I?

Don’t call him. Apoligize to the mutual friends for them having to hear those things. Some of them will believe them. They are not your friends. Others probably know you better and sense what they are saying isn’t true. The rest are hanging onto every word weather they believe them or not, and are waiting for the fireworks to begin wanting to be entertained by the melt down they are waiting for. They are not your friends either.

Once you can tell your friends keep them close. Go no contact with your EX., and all of the rest.

You’ve a new life to build, a life without any of them in it.

What is the most American thing ever?

I was working at the time for a Chinese American man who decades ago paid for his passage to America by working on a cruise ship. He got here with virtually just the clothes on his back, and through years of hard work, starting as a bus boy in a Chinatown restaurant, he worked long and hard and eventually became a very successful businessman in San Francisco.

This man, a few years ago, purchased at a charity auction the right to sing our national anthem at one of the San Francisco Giants home games. He spent weeks and weeks with a singing coach practicing. He asked me to come with him to the game to videotape him singing.

I should point out that my friend is a pretty good singer. But he does have a heavy accent.

The moment comes. He walks out onto the field. The band starts playing. He starts singing the Star Spangled Banner in his accented voice. Then in about the middle of the song the fact that he was standing there singing in front of nearly 70,000 people hit him and the delayed stage fright caused him to forget the words.

“Ow” I thought. “This might get ugly. How will this crowd react?”

But they didn’t get ugly. A few people in the crowd realized what was happening and picked up the song from where he lost it and began singing, and then more and more joined in. Soon it was my friend, with the entire crowd helping, singing the rest of our national anthem. To me that was one of the most American things that I have ever seen.

EDIT: Wow, 5.000+ upvotes. My thanks go out to everyone who has taken the time to read this and even more thanks to those who have upvoted it. I am so happy that this story has struck a chord with readers. Thank you!

Sky High Biscuits with Raspberry Butter

Yield: 15 servings

Ingredients

Raspberry Butter

1/2 cup butter or margarine, softened
1/4 cup fresh or thawed frozen raspberries

Biscuits

2 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup whole wheat flour
2 tablespoons granulated sugar
4 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
3/4 teaspoon cream of tartar
1/2 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup butter or margarine
1 cup milk
1 egg, beaten

Instructions

Raspberry Butter

Combine the butter and raspberries in a blender or food processor. Process until smooth. Chill, covered, for several hours before serving.
Heat the oven to 450 degrees F.

Biscuits

Mix the all-purpose flour, whole wheat flour, sugar, baking powder, cream of tartar and salt in a medium bowl. Cut in the butter until crumbly. Add the milk and egg, stirring just until moistened. Knead the dough lightly on a lightly floured surface. Pat 1 inch thick. Cut with a 2 inch biscuit cutter. Arrange the biscuits in a greased 9 x 9 inch baking pan.
Bake for 12 to 15 minutes or until brown.
Serve warm with the butter.

Notes

Bake the biscuits on a greased baking sheet for crusty biscuits.

Nutrition

Per Serving: Calories 247; Fat 17 g; Sodium 393 mg; Dietary Fiber 2g

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Why does my wife put me down for everything I do?

Your wife puts you down to feel better about herself. Your wife doesn’t have feelings for you and doesn’t respect what you do for her. Your wife is never going to be satisfied with whatever you are going to do for her. Your wife wants you to put more effort into pleasing her.

Your marriage is not going to work with this kind of toxic mindset of your wife. Nothing is going to be enough for your wife. You have to talk openly to your wife that you are invaluable to tolerate her behavior. If your wife doesn’t change her behavior positively towards you, then you have to leave her. If you have children together, then coparenting should be done with the help of law.

It all depends upon how you handle this situation if your wife doesn’t improve. Your wife is toxic, and kindly think about your marriage future.

106. Hoe_Math – The Michael Sartain Podcast

Timebomb

Submitted into Contest #18 in response to: Your fingers tensed around the object in your pocket, ready to pull it out at a moment’s notice.… view prompt

Joshua G. J. Insole

General

Now

There were too many to fight. He was outnumbered ten thousand to one. He watched as they all raced towards him, vengeance in their eyes and murder on their lips. They came in a mob, clamouring for his blood, each wanting to say, “I helped kill him. I was part of it.”

He stood perfectly still, hands in his pockets, not flinching or recoiling in the slightest. His hand brushed against the thing in his pocket, and his fingers clutched at it; ready, waiting.

The throng thundered down on him, not knowing what was to come. He grinned. Even after it was over, they still wouldn’t understand. They’d trample the ground into dust, confusion written across their faces, unsatiated blood lust driving them mad.

He could do it now, of course. But where would the fun be in that? Where would the showmanship be? No, best to wait until the last possible moment. To delay the act until they were just about to get him, and then…

Of course, Dara wouldn’t have done such a thing. She would have completed the mission and then gotten out of there in the blink of an eye. Nothing more than a stirring breeze that lifts the curtains. Silent like a breath, swift like a falling raindrop. She probably wouldn’t have even used it (and would likely tell him off for utilizing it, calling it a “waste of precious resources”). Dara would have only employed it in an absolute emergency.

But Raiden wanted to use it. Why have it and not use it? It would be like being a millionaire, but not spending any money. Naturally, he didn’t need to use it, oh no. He was good at his job, and he knew it. If his actions had necessitated the use of the thing, he wouldn’t have come so highly recommended at all.

But, as it was, Raiden was at the top of his field.

Well, almost.

Then

“Oh no,” she said, shaking her head vehemently. “No. No.”

“But, Dara, he’s the best—”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, second best—”

“Hang on, a second,” said Raiden.

“Look, I’m just saying—”

“I said, no,” said Dara, folding her arms across her chest. “Am I not the captain of this crew?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“But?”

“Ah, maybe we oughta forget it,” said Raiden, turning to walk away.

“Wait!” said Franky, grabbing him by the shoulder. “Please. Wait?”

Raiden nodded. “Sure. But don’t ever touch me like that again, you hear?”

“Don’t threaten my crew, you—” the word that came from her mouth made both of the men wince.

“Wait. Just… wait,” said Franky, standing in the middle of them, hands raised in case either one of them decided to go for the other. “Dara, he is very good. You know that.”

“I’m the best,” scoffed Raiden, folding his arms and rolling his eyes.

Franky ignored him. “He comes with a certain… reputation—”

“Yeah, I’ll say,” said Dara with a snort. She turned away with a childish glare.

“Look, guys, I know you don’t like each other, but—”

“Ya think?” Raiden and Dara said in unison, with the same sarcastic inflection. Looks of horror flashed across their faces when they realised, and they both turned away in disgust.

“Look. Guys,” said Franky through gritted teeth. “I know you don’t like each other, but we don’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice Franky, didn’t I teach you anything?” said Dara.

“Yeah, Franky…” mocked Raiden.

“Oh my God, you two are the absolute worst, do you know that?” Franky turned to his captain and pointed at her leg, which was currently in a cast and was resting on a raised cushion. “Do you honestly think you can pull off a mission with your leg like that?”

“Can do it better than him,” she said, pointing to Raiden with her chin.

“Really, Dara? Really?”

She squinted at him, and her eyes shot daggers, but she said nothing.

“And you,” said Franky, turning to Raiden. “I know how broke you are. You think that debt collectors don’t talk? I know for a fact that there are three scumbag moneylenders out there that want your head on a platter!”

Raiden paled as the colour drained from his face. Dara started to laugh, but Franky shot her a glare that told her she shouldn’t. “You both need each other. And don’t you dare argue with me,” he said, looking from one to the other, goading them into saying something to the contrary. “And, perhaps most importantly, I need both of you. I can’t make ends meet if we can’t take any jobs, Dara… and he’s the best out there. We both know he is. Hell, he knows he is, the cocky sonofa—”

“Hey!”

“Sorry.”

“It’s true.”

An awkward silence fell upon the room. Slowly, Franky lowered his hands. “So, do we have an understanding?”

Dara and Raiden glared at each other, and then flicked their eyes back to Franky.

“Fine,” mumbled Dara.

“Fine,” said Raiden.

“Great!” said Franky, more enthusiastically than he felt. “Well, done, guys. I really think that you’ve—”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s talk shop,” said Raiden, shushing him.

“Agreed. Let’s get on with it. Shut up, Franky.”

“I—” started Franky, looking from Dara to Raiden exasperatedly, but then he gave up and sighed, visibly deflating. “Oh, fine.”

“Okay, so, let’s go over the plan…” said Dara, clicking a button and bringing up the holographic map that hovered in the centre of the room.

Now

Raiden pulled the object out of his pocket with the flourish of a well-practiced magician. He saw the look of urgency in the eyes of those nearest to him as they sprinted towards his location. The gleam of fear that flashed across their faces told him that they knew he was about to pull something off, like a rabbit out of a hat… they just didn’t know what.

The natives of Raghajiv bent their heads low and really threw themselves into their sprint, hoping to catch the blasphemous thief.

Then

“They want what?” asked Raiden, astounded. “Are they crazy?”

“Yes. Crazy rich,” said Dara. “What’s the matter, is it too big of a job for—” she adopted a mocking, babylike voice “—the great Raiden?”

“No, of course not! It’s just… this is gonna upset a lot of people, you do realise?”

“Obviously,” she said, rolling her eyes. “That’s why they’re hiring a crew to do it for them. If it was an easy task, they’d do it themselves, wouldn’t they? Besides, the added danger means they’re adding a few more zeroes to our paycheck, which is always appreciated.”

“How much are they paying?”

“That’s for me to know, Raiden. You’ll get your previously discussed share, as agreed. Now, let’s talk details…”

Now

Raiden rolled the glass orb in his palm precariously. The object was delicate and prone to shattering – it had been designed so. For when the outer shell cracked, it would spill its contents across the ground and into the atmosphere, creating the desired effect.

He watched the horde close in on him like a wildfire. The moment was drawing nearer. Almost there, he told himself. Almost… almost… Three, two, one and—

Raiden smashed the orb onto the floor at his feet.

Then

“Any idea why they want it?”

Dara shrugged. “None of my concern. As long as they pay up, they can smash it for all I care. Let ‘em chop it up and eat it. Let them deface it. I don’t care.”

“But, it’s a religious symbol,” said Raiden, treading carefully.

“Oh, what? What happened in those years that we stopped working together, Raiden? You didn’t suddenly see the light, did you? You haven’t gone all wacko on me, have you?”

“Hey, no. I’m not… a believer,” he said, taking care with the word. “But I wouldn’t talk about the followers like that. I mean, who knows? Right? I mean—”

“Do you want the job or not, man? You might be the best, but there’s a thousand others out there who are good enough who’d do the job without asking this many questions. Plenty of people need the cash.”

“Whoa, whoa, Dara. Of course, I want the job!”

“Then stop talking as if you don’t.”

Now

It felt as if all the air was suddenly sucked from the surface of the planet. Before the tinkling glass had even finished falling to the ground, a great aqua blue bubble had bloomed from the cracked container, blossoming outwards and encapsulating him. For a second it stayed there, hovering around him, crackling with electric life, psychedelic swirling patterns twirling into infinity across its surface… and then it erupted outwards, rocketing into the oncoming horde.

A subsonic BOOM rattled Raiden’s eardrums, and he felt all the hairs on his body standing on end as if with static. His lungs had the breath pulled from them, and he uttered a shocked little, “Oof!” Raiden felt like someone had gently hit him in the gut and winded him. A moment later, he was roaring with laughter.

The mob was still there – nobody harmed. But they were moving in slow motion towards him, their skins crackling with blue lightning. Somewhere in the crowd, someone was still shouting. “Geeeeeeeettttt hiiiiiiiimmmm!” The voice sounded incredibly deep and hilarious.

Giggling like a schoolchild, Raiden stepped out into the crowd, backpack heavy on his shoulders. The thing was right there within grabbing distance, and he could see the understanding in their eyes… but they couldn’t get it. He laughed again. This was brilliant! Raiden waltzed through the crowd, taking special attention to lock eyes with as many murderous gazes as he could. Every single one of them would murder him in an instant, if they had the chance. And here he was, right within their grasp, and they were, for all intents and purposes, statues.

Raiden pranced and danced around their slowly moving bodies. It was as if they were moving in zero gravity or trying to wade through a lake of custard. His laughter tinkled through the air like falling glass. This is fantastic, he thought. This is utterly fantastic!

Although he knew he should be making his hasty getaway, Raiden spent the next twenty minutes jumping and skipping through the pack of would-be assailants, laughing hysterically.

Then

“So, how will we deliver it? I assume people will be looking for it.”

“You assume correctly, Mr. Genius. We’re gonna have the handoff on Tartrak.”

“Tartrak? Dara, are you sure about this?”

“I know what I’m doing. And whilst I’m captain, you won’t question me. Just do your job, Raiden.”

“Well, okay…”

Now

The ship was waiting on the beach, rear ramp lowered onto the sand. Franky was waiting outside, leaning against the ship, arms crossed. He looked annoyed. “What took you?”

“Nothing,” said Raiden, stifling a giggle.

“Did something go wrong?”

“No, nothing at all. Went off without a hitch.”

Franky sized him up. “I hope you’re telling the truth. For your sake. Dara’s pissed. Did you get it?”

Raiden patted his heavy backpack. “Right here.”

Franky nodded, then scanned the horizon. “Nobody saw you?”

Raiden grinned. “Like I said. It went off without a hitch,” he said, avoiding the truth but not overtly lying. At least, not in his own eyes.

“All right. Climb in the back. We’re leaving Raghajiv right now. Heading to meet the buyers.”

“Is Dara…?”

Franky nodded. “Yep. Good luck.” And with that, Franky climbed into the cockpit and started the ship’s engines.

Then

“Geahek? Geahek? Dara, I—”

“Stop. I said to not question my authority.”

“I know, but, Geahek is a mean… whatever he is. And his gang? Dara, they’re wanted dead or alive on every major planet.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Dara hissed. “But he’s paying big bucks. Don’t you get it? If we prove we can handle Geahek without wetting our pants, the rest of the clients will just fall into place. The infamy.”

“I—” started Raiden, but then he gave up. He shook his head and sighed.

There was little use in arguing with Dara. He’d learnt that many moons ago. Once she had an idea in her head…

Now

Dara hadn’t been as angry with him as he’d anticipated. She was just happy he had the idol. She held the thing in her hands and rotated it around, getting a proper look at it. “Over three thousand years old…” she said, in slight awe. “I mean, I know it’s got massive importance, but it is only made from bronze. It’s not like it’s gold or crystal or whatever.”

“Dara…” said Raiden, looking at her as if she had two heads. “This idol is one of the central pillars of the entire Raghajiv religion. You are holding something that people have killed for and died for. Something that people believe in, something people pray to. There are thousands of people out there that think that when they die, they meet—” he gestured towards the statue.

“Wow,” said Dara, mockingly. “That was quite a speech.” She jabbed the idol in his direction. “You should get into politics, y’know.”

Before Raiden could retort, the pilot interrupted them. “We’re here,” said Franky, from up front.

Through the windshield, they saw the icy wastes of Tartrak, the dead planet.

Then

“It’s not too late to turn the job down, you know,” he told her on the ride to Raghajiv. “You can still—”

“Turn Geahek down?”

Raiden turned the thought over in his mind. “Nope. You’re right. That would get us killed. If you told Geahek you’d do it, we better do it, hm?”

Now

And now, here they were on their knees in the freezing snow, hands behind their heads, guns trained on them. Raiden wanted to say I told you so. No, probably shouldn’t, he thought. He looked out the corner of his eye and caught Dara’s attention. “Told you so,” he whispered smugly.

“Tiihuh,” she whispered through gritted teeth.

“Hm?”

“Tiihuh,” she repeated, keeping her jaw clenched.

“What?”

“Hnh hn tiihuh.”

“Oh, for goodness sake, will you just say whatever it is you’re trying to say?”

“I said, throw the timebomb!”

Raiden’s words caught in his throat.

“Throw it, Raiden!” shouted Dara, eyes urging. Around them, Geahek’s guards were shouting and bellowing orders.

“I, uh… I don’t have it.”

“What?”

“I don’t… I don’t have it. I might have, ah, used it back on Raghajiv.”

The guards were swarming around them now, a blur of black armour against the icy blueish whites of Tartrak’s wastelands.

“You what? You blithering idiot! You utter moron! You—”

And that was when one of Geahek’s guards struck him on the back of the head, and he blacked out.

Then

“I wonder what he wants it for,” pondered Raiden out loud. “Why chase down an ancient religious idol?”

“Who cares, as long as we get paid?” replied Dara, flippantly. “And don’t go off about the—” she did mock air-quotes “—significance of such an artefact. Let’s just do the work, get paid, and then go our separate ways. ‘Cause your face is already annoying me.”

“Your voice, too,” added Franky.

Dara nodded. “Yeah, and your voice.”

Now

“Lucky for you, we get to spend a lot more time together,” he said, smiling chirpily. “Silver linings, and all that, huh?”

“For God’s sake, Raiden, shut up.”

“Yeah, Raiden, shut it,” growled Franky.

From outside their cages came a tutting. Geahek stepped out from the shadows. “So much infighting, it’s a wonder you lot were able to pull of the heist at all,” he crooned, bouncing the idol in his hand.

“Why don’t you hurry up and kill us already?” snapped Dara. “Stop toying with us!” As the words tumbled out of her mouth, Raiden knew she hadn’t figured it out yet. There were the things on their legs, for a start…

“Kill you?” Geahek asked, frowning. “Why on earth would I kill you? You’re the best heist crew I’ve ever had!” he said with a boyish grin that bordered on the maniacal. “No, no. I’m not going to kill you, gosh no. In fact, what I propose is an… opportunity.”

“Oh, here we go,” mumbled Raiden, fiddling with the ankle monitor that was strapped to his leg. It flashed a red light, intermittently.

A look of unadulterated rage flashed across Geahek’s face, but he maintained composure. “I propose you continue working for me. And when I say ‘work’, I do not mean that you will be getting paid.” His eyes crawled over Raiden. “And please stop playing with that. It’s not a toy, and you won’t get it off.” Geahek’s voice dropped down a register: “Believe me.”

“What kinda work?” asked Dara.

“Well…” he said scrutinising the idol. “This wasn’t the only religious artefact I am after. And you weren’t the only crew I hired. The problem is that the others… they, ah, suffered casualties. In fact, you are the only crew that returned alive.”

“Oh…”

“I want you to go and retrieve the other artefacts.”

“Which others?” asked Raiden, an awful feeling rising in his chest.

“I think you know,” said Geahek with a wicked grin. “But here’s a hint for job number one: Quowiduw.” The exotic word rolled off his tongue perfectly.

Raiden closed his eyes and swore.

Dara looked confused. “What? What?”

“I’ll leave you to… discuss the proposition,” said Geahek, ignoring her. “Of course, it’s either ‘yes’ or it’s death, you must realise. Any who…” he said, and then swaggered through the doors, whistling a jaunty tune.

“What did he say?” said Dara, turning in her narrow cage.

Raiden sighed. “Basically, we either get killed by his cronies… or, we get killed by religious nuts. Or by mother nature.” He looked from Franky to Dara, in the cramped confines of their prisons. “Guys… we’re going to Muxel.”

Franky and Dara swore simultaneously.

At what point did you realize no one cares about you?

Yesterday, in fact.

Yesterday I turned 40 years old. Not a single damn person, including my friends and even my parents. Not one person, save for God the Father; wished me a Happy Birthday.

I do all the shopping and housekeeping for my parent’s, twice a week. Which means I leave my life, to go to their house and clean it for them. I do their grocery shopping too. My other siblings? Nowhere to be found, or even care. So, you’d think that I might matter to them. Right? You’d think a 40th birthday would be a big one.

I take care of church and help maintain their storehouse, and do all their shopping, bills, etc. I serve as a Worship Leader at my church. None of my team, none of my fellow church members, none of them wished me a happy birthday. These are people I see every week and who keep calendars on people’s birthdays.

No one threw me a party or sent me some money or remembered to say two simple words. No one, but God. That’s when I realized that I am far too kind and giving and generous for my own good and I need to set stronger and tighter boundaries. If ALL the people that I care about and value in my life, can completely forget about me on my 40th, what is considered a Milestone by most people. Not one person. It shows that I care more for them, then they do for me.

That cut me real deep. It really makes me question why I go out of my way to serve and help people, when no one even notices me. Pretty messed up. I sat in my truck with a chocolate cupcake and a Puppacino for my pooch and sang myself Happy Birthday with my dog howling next to me.

People suck. Especially the ones that you’re supposed to matter to.

EDIT 12/29/24 – Just in the last 2 days; I am amazed, humbled and completely taken aback by the level of outpouring love, support and belated birthday wishes, from complete strangers. The same love that I should have been given by the ones that matter most to me, instead I got it from the world; the one place I didn’t expect it. I’ve never written or done anything that went viral. I wrote this 2 days ago out of frustrating and venting and its had more attention and views than any other article I’ve written. And I write a lot. I just want to say to all the people that took the time to read this and sympathize with me and especially the ones who took the time to write a comment or a belated birthday wish. Thank you from the bottom of my 40 year old heart. I value this so much and it was so needed. Thank you, all of you!

Women Have Ruined Dating for Everyone ….

Felix

Once upon a time, in a lush forest, there lived a clever fox named Felix. Felix was known far and wide for his quick wit and cunning ways. He could outsmart any creature in the forest, from the craftiest raccoon to the most elusive hare. But Felix had one problem: he was always in a hurry. He dashed from one place to another, never taking the time to enjoy the beauty around him. His motto was, “Why walk when you can run?”

One sunny morning, Felix was trotting along the forest path when he spotted a turtle named Theo. Theo was the complete opposite of Felix. He moved at a glacial pace, taking each step with deliberate care. While Felix was always rushing, Theo believed in savoring every moment. He would stop to admire a flower, listen to the birdsong, or feel the warmth of the sun on his shell. His motto was, “Slow and steady wins the race.”

Felix, ever the trickster, decided to have a little fun with Theo. “Hey, Theo!” he called out. “How about a race? I bet I can reach the big oak tree before you even take ten steps!” Theo, unfazed by Felix’s taunting, smiled and said, “Sure, Felix. But remember, it’s not always about who gets there first.” Felix laughed, confident in his speed, and the race began.

Felix bolted off like a shot, leaving Theo in the dust. But as he ran, he couldn’t resist stopping to investigate a shiny object he spotted in the bushes. It turned out to be a discarded soda can, but Felix spent a good five minutes trying to figure out if it was treasure. Meanwhile, Theo plodded along, steadily making his way toward the oak tree. He didn’t get distracted; he just kept moving forward.

By the time Felix realized he’d been sidetracked, Theo was already halfway to the oak tree. Felix sprinted as fast as he could, but he kept getting distracted—by a butterfly, by a berry bush, by his own reflection in a pond. When he finally reached the oak tree, panting and exhausted, he found Theo calmly waiting for him, munching on a leaf. “Told you,” Theo said with a wink. “Slow and steady wins the race.”

The moral of the story? Life isn’t just about speed and shortcuts. Sometimes, taking your time and staying focused on your goals will get you further than rushing and getting distracted. And who knows? You might even enjoy the journey along the way.

What if your husband of 22 years left and said he didn’t want you anymore? After being with his ex for three weeks, he came back home. Should l forgive him?

My goodness that happened to me. He was the love of my life. I was devastated . It wasn’t an ex but someone he knew through his job. They were both studying for a state engineering licensing exam. At the library in the evenings. One night he wasn’t home by 9:15 as expected. I drove to the library. There they were , steamed up windows in his van. I was so upset. Not long after. I came home and the house felt weird. I opened his drawers, they were empty. I knew then he just left without being asked and without telling me. It was a kick in the gut. I loved him so much. Several weeks later, he knocked on my door with two bags of groceries. “I thought I’d come back home, I brought dinner. We sat and talked. I said “you want to come back? “. Yes, he said, I said “wait, I’ll be right back”. I went into my room and grabbed my wedding rings. I opened his had and placed the rings in his palm, then I held out my left hand. I said , when you put these rings on my finger, again, you are promising me that my heart will never be broken, you want our marriage forever, and you will never do what you did again, I love you , if you know in your heart that you love me and are committing to be with me , you will put them on my finger”, he reached out and took my hand, I looked at him. His eyes were down he turned my hand placed the ring in my palm, folded my fingers over them and said I’m sorry , I cannot make that promise. Then he got up and walked out the door. “Thank for the groceries” I said. I wasn’t surprised. At least he was honest this time! Two months later he came back to announce that he was going to Arizona where he grew up, with a girl he met who had a son. We spoke to each other several times over the years. He called me, I never called him. I was invited to his daughters wedding. Her and I were pretty close since I married her dad. He came alone, he sat with me and his daughters mother joined us later. He was the same charming man I always loved and knew I would love forever. He died after a major stroke a couple of years ago. I was devastated. I still love him with all my heart. I could have just said yes, come home, but I didn’t. He married three times after he left me and was divorced when he died. I made the right decision that day to bait him. My advice to you is to say no life cannot be happily lived backwards. It’s too late. Once they don’t love you and say so, they only come back because there is no one else. That’s not enough to rebuilt on. I’m sorry, I know how you feel. I feel your pain and understand your mixed feelings well.

What would you do if you found out that your fiancée let a guy climb in her bedroom after she put me on the couch?

There’s your answer. She put somebody else in her bed and put you on the couch. That means you need to walk away. Cause there is nothing there. I’m sorry to say and it might hurt. If there is a better future ahead of you, if there’s always a reason that something happens because when one door closes another, 1 will open

What was the lie that you let someone live with without correcting them?

My neighbor’s daughter died young and her boyfriend would stop in to look after her elderly mother weekly for the rest of my neighbor’s life. It was very kind.

I moved into the neighborhood a couple years before she died, and she was a porch-sitter and I’m a talker, so I would come talk to her on the regular and lend a hand if she needed something. Nothing heroic, just a little neighboly hanging out.

She passed and he turned up that Christmas with a gift and said “hey thanks for being a great neighbor to her,” and I said, “oh that’s so sweet of you, I LOVE chocolate!” What I did not say, because I thought it would never matter, was, “that’s so sweet of you, but in fact I am viciously allergic to nuts of all sorts, so thanks but no thanks!”

It is now five years later, and a man whose name I do not know, never see, and does not live in the area, is still leaving expensive, nutty assortments of chocolate on my doorstep every year. My kiddo is gleeful and I am resigned. It’s far too late to fess up even if I were to catch him in the act, plus I will be moving next year. Best to just let him enjoy his seasonal gesture.

Andrew Tate Explains Why Men Should NEVER Get Married

M28. How do I tell my mother she made a mistake birthing me? Her selfishness forced me into a world and gave me no knowledge of it. She is beyond stupid. How can I express, that I hate her for having “fun” and to tell her she should have aborted?

You know nothing about your mother. Maybe she considered abortion but decided she couldn’t kill a baby, because a fetus is a baby. You sound depressed otherwise you would not consider that you were forced to come into this world. Your words indicate to me that your mother might have raised you without a father, would it have been better if you had a normal upbringing with both parents? But really you are angry and depressed and you want to blame it on your mom. The last thing you should tell her is that you hate her. If you want to tell someone how angry you are, tell it to God. He know all things anyway. He knows every thought before it comes to your mind. He knows every word before it comes to your tongue. Since He already knows, you should talk to Him instead of blaming your mom.

Caramel

Submitted into Contest #18 in response to: Your fingers tensed around the object in your pocket, ready to pull it out at a moment’s notice.… view prompt

Agnes Sharan

They say our instincts act in a split second.

“Arrrrthhhuurrrr!”

My head was ringing, my jaw clenched. It was a cold windy night, the alley not any kinder. I pulled my coat tighter around myself. My body was fighting the cold, but the fear coursing through seemed to warm it enough to make my clenched fists sweat. I wanted to put my hand into my pocket but knew that won’t do me any good at this point.

“Arrrrthhhurrrr!”

I kept seeing him out of the corner of my eyes, grinning, his eyes lit up like he’s happy right where he is. He looked better than the last time I saw him, more alive. He didn’t look a day over how he looked then, brown eyes, caramel skinned, his clothes the same as that day. I suppose that’s just what happens when you go through something like that. It is what it is.

It was quiet, the stillness almost suffocating. I wanted to get it over with, but time seemed frozen just like the air around me. Some stragglers went past us, but other than the odd look now and then, they didn’t seem to suspect anything. So we waited, him and I, paused in that moment, feeling every breath leave my body, every whisper of wind through my hair, afraid to make any movement that might break this trance. But even as my eyes were wide open, I could see that day play out.

It was about a year ago.

“There has been a mistake. The officer will be punished suitably. We are truly sorry.”

He stood beside me, an officer hat in his hands. I couldn’t meet his eyes. Nor hers. I couldn’t imagine that this day will end like this. And the worst part is, it was all my fault.

Why did this happen?

I don’t remember who, I just remember a voice asking those words. The sweat in my clenched fists almost felt like his blood on my hands.

“We can’t begin to say how sorry we are. We got a distress call from someone passing through that there seemed to be a suspicious individual in the neighbourhood. Our officers on call were closeby and responded to it and it just so happened that he fit the description.”

“Arrrrthhhuurrrr!”

Have you heard a gunshot?

I have. I think its sharp, like a clap maybe? No, no, its dull, slipping past like a breeze. Honestly, you can’t really describe it. It is just a sound that rings around your head. It feels like it has a life of its own, and when it is through with you, all you are left with is wondering what ghosts it left behind.

I thought I’d never pick up something again that could make that sound. Never feel the cool metal beneath my fingertips.

“Noooo!!!”

Her voice rang in my head. It did ever since that day. The wailing of an inconsolable mother. A mother who lost her world in what to some was a split second instinct.

What could console her? Was there any punishment that would feel just in this world? Was there any in the universe? Her cries made me wonder every day.

A mandatory leave of absence sure doesn’t. Why else would I find myself here?

“What could you possibly have imagined a 10 year old capable of committing? Enough to warrant him a fatal wound?” The voice choked out the words. “He’s a child! H-He was …”

The words just buzzed in my ears. My throat felt clogged, like I couldn’t speak despite desperately wanting to.

It continued. “I was just there. I had asked him to wait out on the lawn for me, for just a moment. To wait, on OUR LAWN!” Eyes squeezed shut, fingers pressed tightly to stop the tears. “Why would you think my boy standing on our lawn made him the first suspicious individual huh? A 10 YEAR OLD! He listened to his father and simply stood there, and he was killed at his own house! What world are you protecting us from if you are the ones going around killing us?!”

I could stay silent no more.

“Now listen here, mister, that is no way to talk to an officer…”

“Jerry, shut up. Sir, again, as we explained, he made a sudden turn which was why the officer had to act quickly. We can’t discriminate between criminals based on age …”

“But you can based on colour. That’s what this is about, isn’t it?”

Her voice rang out.

The man looked like he wanted to speak out. He then looked at me in the eyes, hazy with the need to defend his comrade but he could see that in the depths of this day, nothing else could explain why it happened. Nothing else could say why an innocent boy with a brown eyed smile had to die. Nothing but the caramel of his skin.

“We were just going to the park. My wife had gone ahead earlier to get the birthday picnic set up but she texted me about some things she forgot. I didn’t want him to see, that’s why I told him to wait out in the lawn. It would have barely been a couple of minutes. Just a couple of minutes.”

Hopelessness rimmed that voice. It crawled over my skin, making me want to throw up my insides.

“He turned around because he heard me close our door. He saw your guns and understood the danger it posed. He was scared and he looked for his father to protect him. Was that so wrong? In the end, though, it got him killed.”

It sounded like someone who had lost all purpose. Someone who just wanted to give up. But that was a year ago.

“You remember me, don’t you?”

This voice no longer belonged to the helpless father from a year ago. This was one that knew what its sole purpose in life is, and would do anything to get to it.

And it’s hands held clenched in the pocket of its coat the one tool that help it get to it.

I could see the recognition etched in his eyes, the face that came to me every night in my sleep, eyes that then seemed so hateful now filled with something I couldn’t quite understand. He was frozen, just like I, the midnight air speaking the words we couldn’t.

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget a face from that day.”

His voice, I wanted to say, sounded smug. But there was something off about it, like my appearance after disappearing for a year didn’t affect him at all. And that bothered me.

He continued. “I saw it in your eyes that day, you know.” He smiled. “I saw them burning with a desire for justice. And I remember it every time I dream of firing that shot.”

It almost seemed like he was goading me, as though he wanted me to act before even I myself desired it. My fingers tensed around the metal, wanting to pull it out yet not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

“Do you now? A murderer who remembers his victim, how ironic.” I sneered at him. It only seemed to make him grin wider. I didn’t have to imagine I heard smugness in his voice to get triggered by his smile.

My clenched fists felt colder now with the metal in them exposed to the air. He held his hands up in mockery.

“Dad?”

“Dad?”

“Shh, Arthur, the doctors will fix you right up, its okay.” I looked away, holding his hand tighter in mine. My other hand was holding pressure to his chest, but even the slightest shift felt like he life was slipping away right beneath my fingertips.

“Daddy?” I couldn’t look at his eyes. He always had a light that in them I could look towards to make any day better. But today was different.

Because today, it was fading.

“I’m scared.”

I met his brown eyes, and in that moment, I wanted to scratch away my skin till it all but bled just to see if it makes his stop. “It’s going to be okay, I promise.”

He closed his eyes. “Sleepy, daddy …”

“Arthur”, I shook him, “Arthur?”

“Arrrrthhhuurrrr!”

The fear of God struck his eyes at that moment. He looked like he was about to turn, so I held the gun with both hands. “Don’t move!”

He froze, and it gave me a moment to see where the voice came from. He stood behind him, a boy of 7, maybe 8, and he was shivering. I’d like to say it was because of the cold but I but deep down, I didn’t have to guess the reason why. I looked away from him.

“Jim.” He spoke with his hands still held up. “Jim, what are you doing here?”

The boy’s eyes started to fill with tears. “M-mom told me to come l-look for you”, his voice choked.

“Go back to mommy, Jim, its going to be okay. Just go back to mommy.”

That’s when I turned the gun to the boy. All this time, he looked unbothered, but the fear in his eyes now looked exactly what I needed.

“Don’t!” he shouted, pleading in words he didn’t say. “He’s just a boy.”

I sneered. “So was mine! Now you’ll know how that feels!”

“Kill me.”

The words rang in my ears, but it didn’t make sense. Every day for the past year I dreamt of all the ways his face would look like pleading for his life, but none of those faces matched the man before me.

He smiled sadly. “You see him still, don’t you?”

“Daddy?”

Arthur stood beside the boy now, his caramel smile nowhere to be seen. Instead his eyes were fearful, just as they were that day.

“I do too. Every day. That’s why I resigned after the leave of absence. I kept remembering I chose to fire every time I picked up the gun. I knew you were looking into me, that one day you’d come for me. I didn’t want anything to get in the way of what I deserve.”

I felt as though my brain was finally putting together the pieces from tonight. Everything I found off about his demeanour, from his voice to him smile, it all made sense. For the look in his eyes that I couldn’t understand before, it was not smugness or fear. It was acceptance.

“Why should I believe you?”

He smiled, “I can’t tell you why.” His eyes turned, “Just let the boy go, I beg you. He doesn’t deserve it just as much as Arthur didn’t.”

I finally looked into the boy’s eyes. He was more human to me than anyone’s ever been in the last year, his light no different from my son’s. As I looked on, the ocean blue of his eyes changed color slowly. Now all that stared back was a brown eyed smile that slowly died every second my gun continued to point to it.

What am I doing?

You are no different from him.

My hands shook. But the man didn’t seem keen to use my moment of weakness to escape. He stood still, like a man who had nowhere else he wished to be.

“Go.”

The light in Arthur’s eyes were no longer dying. In fact, they seemed to start glowing. I put the gun back into my pocket.

“W-what?”

“GO! Before I change my mind!”

He kept his eyes on me while walking backwards, protecting the boy from my line of fire with his body. If only I could’ve done the same that day.

They were gone and I fell to the ground defeated. Where was the justice I sought? Why do I still feel like clawing my chest out? What could I do?

I screamed out into the night, until I could no more.

It was quiet now.

My hands hung limply by my side, my coat sifting softly in the breeze, brushing every now and then against my hand. My fingers were cold, the ground freezing. I put them into my pocket but there was no more room, so my fingers clenched around the gun. I don’t know how much time passed, only that I was down on the ground waiting for something to happen.

“Sleep, daddy …”

I heard my second gunshot. I still couldn’t say what it sounded like. But it was quiet now, and so I just closed my eyes and slipped into a dreamless sleep.

Man Catches Girlfriend CHEATING On Dating App And She Can’t Handle It…

M28. How do I tell my mother she made a mistake birthing me? Her selfishness forced me into a world and gave me no knowledge of it. She is beyond stupid. How can I express, that I hate her for having “fun” and to tell her she should have aborted?

Dude, you’re 28 years old. You can’t blame your mom for your issues.

Get some therapy. get a job. Go to the gym. Have fun by joining some safe groups. Hang out with friends or make some.

don’t blame your issues on your mother birthing you, you are too old for this… grow up!

How was the Internet invented?

There were whispers of it in the Pentagon first—back in the 1960s—The military sought for a nuclear war survival communication system.

What they produced was much more than they had dreamed.

Started with ARPANET in 1969—They built it piece by piece—like a man laying bricks for a foundation he couldn’t yet see—The initial link went from UCLA to Stanford. Two computers—conversing over a phone line; But it marked the start of something massive.

The development of TCP/IP—the protocol destined to form the backbone of the internet, marked the actual breakthrough—Bob Kahn and Vint Cerf produced it in 1974. Consider it as if any computer—could converse in a universal language—Before that, different networks were like islands—cut off from one another—TCP/IP created connections between them.

NSFNET, a system linking supercomputer centers, first emerged in the 1980s—faster and more dependable than ARPANET—Schools began to plug in—then companies. Growing like a living entity—the network expanded first over the nation and then the planet.

The last piece arrived in 1989 when Tim Berners-Lew created the World-Wide-Web at CERN—He provided HTML, URLs, and HTTP—the tools that would make the internet from a playground for specialists into something everyone could use.

Early in the 1990s, the internet had moved from military and intellectual beginnings—It belonged to everyone now. Commercial suppliers began providing links to houses—The rest is history.

Valtrompia Bread

Yield: 2 Valtrompia loaves

Ingredients

1/3 cup very warm water
1 teaspoon sugar
1 (1/4 ounce) package dry yeast
1 cup milk
2 tablespoons butter, melted
1 1/4 teaspoons salt
3 to 4 cups flour

Instructions

In measuring cup, combine warm water, sugar, and yeast. Let stand 5 minutes stirring occasionally until mixture is foamy.
In large bowl, combine milk, butter, and salt. Add yeast mixture to bowl and stir to combine. Add 2 1/2 cups flour and stir. Stir in as much of remaining flour as necessary to form soft dough. Turn onto lightly floured board and knead for 7 minutes. Shape dough into smooth ball. Put into greased bowl, turning once to grease top. Cover with plastic wrap. Place bowl in warm, draft-free place to rise until double in bulk.
Punch dough down. Divide dough in half, roll into log 3 to 4 inches shorter than the Valtrompia Bread Tube, and insert in tube.
Cap and bake in a preheated 400 degree F oven for 60 to 70 minutes.
Remove from tube to cool.

Is there anything to stop a husband from cheating?

If your husband wants to cheat, then you can’t stop your husband from cheating. Your husband will find different ways to cheat. It all depends upon the core personality of your husband. If your husband is an emotionally unavailable, emotionally damaged man, or has high traits of narcissism, then he is more likely to cheat. Cheating is a choice and a conscious act. You can’t do anything here if your husband wants to cheat.

Only man can stop himself from cheating. If your husband is healthy and loves you, then no matter what happens, he is never going to cheat in any circumstances. If your husband loves you, cheating on you will never cross his mind. Cheaters will have 100s of reasons to cheat, and a loyal person only needs one reason to be faithful: that is love.

Is it reasonable for a wife to accept another man’s invitation for just her to go to his house for a swim at 1am, & for her to go wearing only a bikini & a totally translucent gown. Is it reasonable for a husband to get upset in such a situation? Tx!

Absolutely not, it is not unreasonable to get upset. Many things can happen riding solo at that hour. My man would NEVER let me out alone at that time of the night. Shoot he wouldn’t even let me check the mail across the street in the dark. She must not respect the fact that you care about her and a healthy future for her.

Is it reasonable for a wife to accept another man’s invitation for just her to go to his house for a swim at 1am, & for her to go wearing only a bikini & a totally translucent gown. Is it reasonable for a husband to get upset in such a situation? Tx!

Yes, be upset. It’s disrespectful and disregarding your marriage vows. The offer is with bad intentions. To do that any time of day and just her is an affair waiting to happen

Talk to your wife and ask how she would feel if a woman invited you only to go over by her at that time wearing only a Speedo??

Why Is Nobody Talking About This?

I heard a news report that tariffs on Chinese goods will not have the desired effect of bringing manufacturing back the US, although companies plan cutting back on production in China. Why won’t they return the US?

Do you want to hear the truth or do you want to hear lies.

The truth is, for the United States, if it does not want to give up its financial hegemony and the US dollar as the world currency, then financial capital absolutely does not want manufacturing to return to the United States.

Because this will reduce their voice in government decision-making, and even serve the manufacturing industry, instead of being able to quickly obtain massive amounts of funds by constantly speculating on some “high-tech” concept products in the stock market. It turned into a real-life Ponzi scheme.

After carefully looking at the U.S. dollar, U.S. bonds, and U.S. technology stocks, I

I realized that the current financial system of the United States is based on the credit endorsement of the United States as a sovereign country.

But it is obvious that as the U.S. debt approaches 37 trillion, the U.S. national credit system is about to go bankrupt.

For the United States, the reshoring of manufacturing promoted by Trump and Musk is like a self-rescue act of a terminally ill person.

But to realize this premise, the financial industry, service industry, etc. all need to serve the manufacturing industry.

Instead, I hype a high-tech concept, which is actually a laboratory product, and then I can obtain a large amount of financing in the stock market. Then a few years later, the company goes bankrupt and closes down. But the money has fallen into the hands of a few.

Isn’t this just pure money fraud?

Then, the United States needs to restart vocational education. Simply put, it means that a large number of Americans should give up their choices in law, finance, services, computers, and liberal arts, and devote themselves to science and engineering and technical training.

This process will take at least 10 years to cultivate a generation of qualified industrial workers and engineers.

Otherwise, it is just a dream to bring back the manufacturing industry.

Because the current illiteracy rate in the United States is too high, workers seriously lack high-end technical training.

In fact, I personally suggest that it is better for the United States to start major infrastructure construction again from now on, which can at least solve a large number of employment problems.

Why is Intel in a steep decline? Why did Intel decline and fall so much?

Short Answer: Intel’s main competition was AMD and for a while AMD wasn’t in the race so intel got distracted. After a while Intel decided to comeback with 2nm chip and it proved disaster because of many reasons, some of which are listed in the long answer.

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Long Answer: Intel’s $50 billion investment to lead in 2nm chip production has turned into a tale of misaligned priorities. The company focused on building cutting-edge facilities for foundaries to compete with TSMC and Samsung before resolving its existing 7nm and 10nm chip struggles, resulting in a reduced credibility in the market.

Why did only Intel had a fall while not other competitors like AMD?

AMD focused on outsourcing its chip production to TSMC, allowing it to prioritize design while leveraging TSMC’s advanced manufacturing processes.

TSMC invested steadily in cutting-edge production facilities like 7nm and 5nm, delivering consistent results and attracting customers like Apple, AMD, and Nvidia.

These companies focused on their own expertise and existing products, unlike Intel and that is the only reason for their success.

Andrew Tate Explains Why Men Should NEVER Get Married

My morning jog and what it is like in China at 5 am

Every morning I get up at 5 am and jog. I am perhaps the slowest jogger on the face of the earth. Indeed, but I do enjoy my morning routine.

It’s quiet.

I often see some local cats that hang out in the early morning.

The garbage grannies go trash-can to trash-can as they sort though the cardboard, the glass and bottles, and other rubbish. They quietly sort through the debris.

The street lights are on, and the decorative tree lighting illuminates the shrubbery in spots here and there.

On the sidewalks are the painted and paved jogging surfaces with broad yellow lanes clearly presented. In 50 meter increments are mileage markers. With a “Start” and a “550 meter” markers clearly presented in loud yellow. I generally make two laps on the track, which is a nice 1 km run.

There are two other joggers at that time.

One is a young man in his early 30s. He really jogs fast; even a run. Or a gallop. He doesn’t run on my track. Instead he does so in a much smaller circular path.

The other is an older man. Maybe in his 80s. He jogs even slower than I do. More like a shuffle in a slow motion jog.

Believe it or not, my jogging speed is somewhere between these two.

Scooters are parked everywhere. All of the scooter charging stations are occupied. With the led lit controls all blinking or flashing in reds, oranges, greens or the cool blue displays mounted on the rails in the station.

It is a view that I see every morning.

After my jog I go into my building. Ride the elevator and take my morning shower.

Then change, and drink two cups of warm water before I go make a cup of coffee. (Hydrate first, then enjoy the coffee.)

That’s what I do and how I spend my morning.

I think that all of us have our little routines. This is mine. I do it mindlessly. And thus effortlessly.

Ah. Don’t misunderstand.

As there are times to be “mindful”, there are also times that it pays to be “mindless”. Go on auto-pilot and enough your weight loss in the process.

Today…

My morning jog and what it is like in China at 5 am.

UFO getting Shot Down leak footage

What is the most dangerous thing you’ve ever held in your hands?

A 10-kilo block of military explosives that I almost activated by accident.

It was night, we were on a small forest path in Kosovo and our idea was to put a boobytrap on a path near an enemy position.

We used a tripwire for this and when we had found a good spot, I attached one of its ends to the (hand grenade) detonator of the explosive.

Unfortunately, however, when my buddy tried to attach the other end of the wire to a tree, he pulled a little bit too hard on the wire and I just felt how the pin of the grenade detonator started moving.

main qimg e8ad23bbeec7ce7e9825fb8b82d99d16 pjlq

With a friend of mine at our guerrilla base preparing explosives. (screenshot from an AP video)

I told him to stop and quickly put both of my hands above the detonator so it couldn’t activate the bomb. My buddy immediately realized what was going on and cut the wire.

We were in a bad situation: I couldn’t just throw the whole thing away as the power of the explosive was far too strong and would have killed us.

The second problem was that the enemy was nearby and we couldn’t afford to make any noise.

The detonator was solidly attached to the explosive with plenty of duct tape and the only way to remove it was to use a knife. We needed to have some light to be able to work on it and therefore, my buddy placed his hands under the explosive and we carefully carried it towards a small hamlet.

We went into a small basement, my friend lit a candle, and then we started neutralizing the device. When my buddy had cut out the detonator, we saw that the pin had been almost completely removed, Maybe one or two millimeters more, and the whole thing would have blown our heads away.

We put the pin back into the detonator and smoked a cigarette. Our job, however, wasn’t finished yet!

We re-attached the detonator to the explosive and went back to the enemy’s position to set up our trap. This time, however, we acted more carefully.

They Said AI Couldn’t Replace Hollywood… Then Kling AI Did THIS

Damn! this is simply amazing.

https://youtu.be/JaDs4_nz_BM

Preppy Tonk and Jon

Submitted into Contest #24 in response to: Write a story set in the dark recesses of space where the two main characters are often at odds with each other in humorous and comedic ways.… view prompt

Charlie Murphy

Preppy Tonk looked at her rival with an evil twinkle in her eye.“What?”“Nothing.”“I see that evil twinkle in your eye again.”“No. It must be the burning hot sun reflecting off your chromed head.”“Nuh-uh.”“Yeah- huh,” Preppy Tonk shot back.“Whatever, lets continue.“King to knight rook.”The purple slug looked down at the holographic chess board. “Poopy-doodles, you win again!”“Yaysies-daisies!”

”If this was Earth Chess, I’d kick your butt!” Jon exclaimed, wiggling his fat, dripping eyestalks.

“Yeah, but the author doesn’t know how to play chess and that would require research and he’s too lazy.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right, but you’re still a silly.” Jon stuck his slimy purple tongue out.

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Well, let’s have a trace then.”

“Trace?”

“No, a race! Goddamn u, author. Fix your typos!”

“Yeah, you ready, Enourghipool… er, Preppy Tonk?”

“You know it, Jon!” she said and stretched her furry brown legs.

“Your silver eyes look like pools of mercury.”

“Thanks? I guess?” Crouching down in racing position, Preppy Tonk lifted her leg.

“Did you, make a stinky?”

“Yes, … I… did!”

‘”It smells like rotten eggs.”

Preppy Tonk’s face turned red.

“You made a stinky, you made a stinky!”

“Whatever.”

“Ready…” Jon announced as a star shot through space.

Preppy Tonk’s muscles tensed up.

“Set…”

“I know what comes next!” Preppy Oblanka Tonk smiled.

“Go!” Jon whispered.

“Run!”

“Jump!”

“Kick!”

“Touch the stars!”

“Look into the sun!”

“How? I’m blind.”

“Really?”

“No.”

“Why did you claim you were blind then?”

“Cuz I’m goofy!”

“But you’re not a hobo dog.”

“Goofy isn’t a hobo.”

“Oh , what is he?”

“A goofy dog, duh!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I know these things,” Preppy Tonk whipped her huge head back with confidence.

“Oh, so you’re a professional now?”

“Yeppers.”

“Good grief!”

“Oxymoron, oxymoron, oxymoron!”

“Hey, that’s not nice!”

“No, an oxymoron is contradictory terms.”

“Oh, why is it called that then?”

“I don’t know. Do I look like an English professor?”

“I’m not sure how to take that…”

The two rivals panted as they ran throughout space. They passed an orange planet, then a blue one made of hot dogs, and finally, Earth.

“Stop describing everything!”

“Who are you talking to, sis?” Jon asked as a drifting robotic Golden retriever passed in between them.

“Our creator again. He keeps describing the scene,” Preppy Tonk replied.

“Isn’t he supposed to do that?”

“Yeah, but it’s getting annoying!”

“So? We’re competing against each other. That’s more important, right?”

“I guess so,” Preppy Tonk said, biting her blue puffy lip.

“Atta girl,” Jon replied and patted her on the back.

“Hey, how can you pat me on my back? I thought you were ahead of me.”

“Uh… I forgot that explanation.”

“Did you?… or did the author forget?”

“I have no cosmic idea, Preppy Tonk.”

“I thought you knew everything.” She raised an eyebrow.

Preppy Tonk glared at her opponent.

“You know, for an alien slug, you sure are fast!”

“Hmm, alien slug…. Where have I heard that before?”

“Maybe in a book about kids who can turn into animals?” shrugged Preppy Tonk.

“Almost at the finish line!” Jon said with glee.

“How can you tell?” Preppy Tonk asked, putting her hairy claws together.

“Checkered line coming up!” Jon pointed straight ahead with his slimy antennae.

“Oh, just cuz there’s a checkered line means the end of the race?” Preppy Tonk said, putting her paws on her brown meaty hips.

“Yes that’s the rule,” Jon said, adjusting his squared glasses.

“Well… OK,” Preppy Tonk said as she scratched her ear.

“Have an itch?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I have an itch, too.”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Yeah-uh!” Jon said, passing a large pink asteroid.

“Well, then, where’s your itch, huh?”

“I don’t want to say.”

“Ew.”

“OK, OK, it’was my arm,” Jon smiled.

“Oh, that’s not bad.”

“It itches more than yours,” Jon said, scratching his arm.

“Nuh-uh, mine itches more.”

“Let’s finish the race!” Preppy Tonk exclaimed.

Jon ran through a hoop, jumped over the fence, and hauled through lava.

“I win! I win!” Preppy Tonk did the macarena.

“You cheated.” Jon pouted.

“No, I didn’t!

“Yes, you did!”

“No, I didn’t.”

“OK, I believe you,” Jon said.

“Knock knock,” Preppy Tonk whispered.

“Who’s there?” Jon asked.

“Dwayne.”

“Dwayne who?”

“Dwayne the bathtub, I’m dwowning!”

Jon laughed like a hyena. “Mine’s better!”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, a duck walked into a bar and ordered some quackers. When the waiter asks her how she will pay, the duck says ‘put it on my bill.’”

“Not funny at all, my rival.”

“Humor is subjective, so I win!” Jon blew a raspberry at her.

“How old are you?” asked Poppy Tonk.

“I am an adult.”

“Cool, I’m a kid.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, really!”

“Prove it.”

“How?”

“Sing baa baa black sheep.” Preppy Tonk started singing.

“You have a beautiful voice!”

“And?”

“And what?”

“AREN’T YOU GONNA SING?”

“No, why would I do that?”

“I thought we were competing,” Preppy Tonk said and sneezed.

“Oh, yeah, goofy me. I forgot. By the way. Bless you or gazoontite, or whatever.”

“Thanks, wait… Goofy?”

“The author‘s getting tired of ‘silly’.”

“But, he used it.”

Preppy Tonk shrugged. “It’s his story.”

“Oh, OK.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I like that word very much!”

“I do too, but let’s move on.”

“Alright, wanna have a tickle fight?”

“You know I do!”

She tickled his foot. “Geetsa-geetsa… Hey, look, a tree; it’s floating in space,” Preppy Tonk said and floated to it and she giggled. “Stop.” Grabbed an apple. “This will knock your socks off!” She started juggling.

“Oh yeah?” Jon said as he cocked an eyebrow. “Watch this!” He grabbed the tree and shook it until every apple detached and floated into space.

“Impressive?”

“Thank you. I’m the King.”

“King of what?”

“King of Apple!”

“Yeah, right.”

“No, really.”

“Well, I‘m the Queen of Blueberry Squash Pie.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Wanna keep going?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“We made it to the thousandth word!”

Western Enchilada Lasagna

Ingredients

2 pounds ground beef
1 (16 ounce) can enchilada sauce
1 onion, diced
1 pound Cheddar cheese, grated
1 pound Monterey Jack cheese, grated (optional)
1 cup oil
2 packages corn tortillas
1/2 teaspoon garlic salt
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon pepper
1/4 teaspoon paprika

Instructions

Brown ground beef with onion and spices, drain and set aside.
Warm enchilada sauce, adding 1 cup of cheeses for flavor.
Heat oil in small saucepan. Dip tortilla into hot oil long enough to soften. Layer six across on bottom of pan.
Layer bottom of pan with tortillas, cover with meat, cheese, enchilada sauce and repeat three times.
Cover and bake at 350 degrees F for 30 to 40 minutes.

The Things China🇨🇳 Does Better Than Denmark | My Thoughts After 1 Year in China

After little over a year in China, here are the things I simply think China does better than Denmark. From healthcare and policing to politicians being held accountable.

https://youtu.be/Qc7QoqojewI

The daily Shorpy

After Smearing China, the U.S. UN Ambassador Fled Away

https://youtu.be/nN0yCIdil60

Anyone been embarrassed by a friends mom at a sleepover?

When I was young, my mom was “the cool mom”. Every kid in the neighborhood was over our house every day after school. We tore up the back yard doing every imaginable kid disaster you can think of. And when we were worn out, she called us in for tea and cookies and every kid crowded around the table while she served us tea and hermits or oatmeal cookies.

When I was an adolescent, we would climb Blue Hills at 4:30am to watch the sun rise on Easter and sing the glory of God and scream out, at the top our lungs, “This is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad!” (Ps 118;22) My mother had done it all her life, and now I do it too. But every fucking kid in the neighborhood would sleep in our house, everywhere, the night before, in their Snoopy sleeping bags, on the couch, on the floor – everywhere. And then we would cram into my aunt’s ancient Chevy Nova with no rear windshield and blue smoke pouring out the exhaust and Pepsi, the German Shepherd with his head out the window and off to Blue Hills in the pitch dark we went, still groggy with sleep. And when we got back, there was pounds of bacon sizzling, mountains of scrambled eggs and pancakes and a shitload of toast. We were pretty poor, but no kid ever went hungry at 6:30am on Easter Morning. No parent ever worried about their children when they were with “Mrs Bazzinotti”. She was the gold standard in safety and propriety.

We actually started a tradition. It became so popular with the high school kids that the number of kids grew so large, the local Catholic church usurped our tradition and bussed the congregation to the top and held a Mass service with candles and communion. They literally ruined our Easter tradition, first by eliminating the need to climb – and we always climbed – and by formalizing the rising of the sun (Son). But we traditionalists still hiked the “mountain” at 4:30 in the frigid cold on Easter and sang the Hallelujah Chorus as the sun broke over the horizon. Sixty years or more I have been doing this.

And I was proud of my mom every single time. She was a magician. She climbed up and down and then made breakfast.

There were LOTS of things that embarrassed me about my mom as a teen – but that wasn’t one of them. When my mother died in 2012, the Park Service let us put a stone bench on the top, right where she stood, with her name and that passage from Psalms engraved on it. On Easter morning, we greet our mom, stand on the bench and watch the sun come up.

KJ Noh | South Korean President Planned Disappearing Opponents After Martial Law Decree

https://youtu.be/GMJzyZ4w728

Tortilla Lasagna

Ingredients

2 pounds lean ground beef
1 large sweet onion, chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 teaspoon cumin
1/2 teaspoon red pepper
1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1 (14 ounce) can diced tomatoes, drained
12 corn tortillas
1 (16 ounce) container cottage or ricotta cheese
1 cup Monterey Jack cheese, shredded
2 cups lettuce shredded
2 fresh tomatoes, diced
1 cup black olives, sliced
1 cup Cheddar cheese, shredded

Instructions

Brown ground beef in a large skillet with onion and garlic.
Add cumin, red pepper, cayenne pepper and diced tomatoes and cook over low-medium heat for several minutes. Remove from heat.
Place 6 of the corn tortillas and the bottom of a lightly greased 13 x 9 x 2 inch baking dish and spread meat mixture evenly over tortillas. Top with remaining tortillas.
Combine ricotta and Monterey Jack cheeses and mix well.
Spread cheeses over tortillas and bake at 350 degrees F for 30 minutes.
Remove from oven and top with lettuce, tomatoes, black olives and Cheddar cheese.
Slice and serve.

Bioluminescence in the Interstellar

Brittany Gillen

Wrong, wrong, wrong.How could this be happening? Every single reading Jerrie took didn’t make sense. Yesterday, the readings were spot on, perfectly in range. Today… today was just wrong. Most scientists felt a thrill when readings turned uncharacteristic, hoping for a breakthrough discovery, but Jerrie knew that her readings were not uncharacteristic. They were just wrong. She also knew the reason.“Charlie!”For the last two months, she had been living in a tiny research capsule just outside the edge of the Milky Way measuring light waves in the interstellar medium. Her goal was to take up-close-and-personal readings to confirm the current scientific theories about PAH molecules. All of the measurements, even at close proximity, barely registered on Jerrie’s expensive equipment. It was like catching every word of a whisper from across a table in a crowded room.But today… today the measurements maxed out all her dials. The whisper was screaming. Today, Jerrie could see the light brightening with her vastly inferior human eyes. With her eyes for crying out loud!Something was creating interference, which was very rare in the interstellar medium. Out here it was dark, cold and empty. Empty except for Jerrie and Charlie.

“Charlie!”

Seriously, Jerrie thought. There are only four compartments in this capsule. She knew that Charlie could hear her, and she knew it only took about two seconds to cross them all and join her. Jerrie drummed her fingers on her keyboard and closing her eyes slowly counted to ten.

Finally, Charlie’s hair floated around the corner. Charlie’s long hair preceded her everywhere she went. To keep it somewhat contained, Charlie kept it pulled back in about a dozen long braids, but in zero gravity, the braids wriggled all over like a clutch of very excited snakes. It totally creeped Jerrie out and created a horrible distraction.

“I thought we agreed you were going to pin back all your braids from now on,” Jerrie said grimacing.

Charlie just shrugged and chugged the last of the soda in her hand, tossing the empty container back towards the supply room. Jerrie cringed again. Charlie drank soda like it was her lifeblood. She went through at least a dozen packets a day of the syrupy drink.

“Charlie, the container,” Jerrie said.

“What?” Charlie said with a shrug. “I’ll get it later. What do you want?”

“You can’t just toss things all over the capsule,” Jerrie complained. “This isn’t your childhood bedroom.”

“Or my college dorm room, or a bachelor pad, or a trash yard. I know,” Charlie replied rolling her eyes. “Just tell me what you want already. I’m not in the mood for another lecture on cleanliness being next to godliness.”

Jerrie took a deep breath and centered herself. “My readings are unusual today,” she said calmly, pulling them up on the screen.

“Uh, huh,” Charlie said looking at the monitor while scratching her tummy vigorously. “In what way?”

“In what way?” Jerrie wanted to scream even louder than the readings. “Charlie, you just don’t understand my work at all.”

“Then what did you call me in here for?” Charlie complained. “My job is not to interpret your results. I’m your pilot. Now, if you want me to move the capsule, I would LOVE to do it for you. Can I, can I, please?”

“No,” Jerrie groaned, rubbing her eyes.

“Just a few feet?” Charlie tried sweetly, rubbing the back of Jerrie’s shoulders. “Maybe I’ll just do a few donuts and bring us right back to the exact same spot. Churn up the space matter a little. Maybe that will fix your readings.”

Jerrie just sighed, tired of arguing.

A timer started quietly beeping. “I’ll get the lights,” Charlie said, pushing off Jerrie’s shoulders towards the opposite wall.

“Give me two seconds, to prep the sensors and save the previous measurements.” Jerrie’s hands flew across the computer.

“Is it hot in here?” she heard Charlie ask. Jerrie just ignored her until Charlie’s shirt floated in front of her face.

“Charlie, what are you…” She turned around to find Charlie almost completely undressed. Her black bra, “Wednesday” day-of-the-week underpants and Velcro shoes her only attire. “Seriously! Can you put your clothes back on? It makes me uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, well, being hot makes me more uncomfortable,” Charlie said, continuing to scratch her bare chest. “Besides, I’m in the best shape of my life, someone should enjoy the view.”

Jerrie groaned.

“I think I may be running a fever,” Charlie complained. “My eyes feel hot.”

“Don’t you dare take off any more clothes,” Jerrie warned keeping her eyes permanently fixed on her monitor. “Alright, I’m ready. Shut off the lights in three, two, one.”

The capsule went dark and Jerrie hit the button to begin the image and measurement captures. Then Jerrie noticed a reflection on her monitor.

“Darn it, Charlie, turn off that flashlight.” Jerrie turned around ready to jettison Charlie out the nearest porthole, but then jerked herself back towards the console in fright. “What did you do?”

Charlie, her eyes bulging, floated in front of Jerrie, running her fingers all over her brightly lit torso. Vibrant green veins crisscrossed Charlie’s entire body. They glowed with a bioluminescence that Jerrie had never seen on a human before. It reminded her of the small deep-water fish she had visited at the aquarium in her childhood.

Recovering from her initial shock, Jerrie floated closer and traced one of the lines with her finger. “How are you glowing like that?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Charlie responded, flicking Jerrie’s cold hand of her belly and shivering.

“Well, you did something,” Jerrie told her.

“Why, do you always assume everything is my fault?” Charlie complained, reaching for her pants and pouting her lip.

“Because, I don’t look like that!” Jerrie said pointing.

“How do you know?” Charlie said wriggling her pants up over her bottom. “Prove it.”

Unable to resist proving Charlie wrong, Jerry quickly pulled up her own shirt. Then she smugly smiled at Charlie. “See.”

“That still doesn’t prove it’s my fault,” Charlie said reaching for her shirt.

“Just let me think for a minute,” Jerrie said, rubbing her temples and staring at the green glow emanating from Charlie’s chest. She reached forward to touch it again, but Charlie twitched away. “I’ll be gentle,” Jerrie told her and leaned in even closer. Jerrie could have sworn the veins moved across Charlie like worms in a mud puddle.

Pulling back, Jerrie took a deep breath and pulled at her lip as Charlie put her shirt back on. Then something caught her eye in the eerie glow. Charlie’s soda floated nearby. Jerrie wanted to mention again why it was important to not throw trash helter-skelter in the capsule when she noticed a drop float out of the neck of the container. It also glowed a luminescent green. Jerrie looked at Charlie and noticed that she had seen the droplet as well.

“You don’t think…” Charlie began.

“This was caused by your soda,” Jerrie finished. “The evidence points that way.”

“But you drink the soda too.”

“No, actually, I don’t,” Jerrie said turning back to her monitor and cancelling the contaminated readings.

“What do I do?” Charlie asked beginning to panic.

“Stop drinking the soda,” Jerrie said, deleting the files and making notes in her journal.

“Jerrie, focus here for just a second, please,” Charlie pleaded. “I look like a glow bug!”

“You’ll be fine,” Jerrie threw over her shoulder, bending her head down and trying not to laugh.

“I’m not fine,” Charlie complained. “I itch. I feel like my skin is going to burn off me, and I’m lit like a neon sign.”

Jerrie shook of her giggles and turned around attempting to be solemn. Charlie was scratching all over now and writhing like she had ants in her pants. It was more than Jerrie could take. She burst out laughing.

“Stop it,” Charlie complained. “it’s not funny.”

Eventually, Jerrie calmed down enough to help Charlie rub olive oil lotion on her itchy skin and got her some cold compresses to help with the heat. With Charlie’s permission, she took pictures of the “rash” as they started calling it, though Charlie wanted to call it the infestation.

“Nothing is living inside you,” Jerrie reassured her.

“Then I’ve been poisoned. You’ve poisoned me!” Charlie cried, thrusting out an accusatory finger.

“You poisoned yourself,” Jerrie said with a snicker. “I told you not to drink so much of that candy-water.”

“Hey, it keeps me awake,” Charlie said petulantly. “Otherwise, I’d spend all day sleeping.”

“Would that be so bad?” Jerrie whispered to herself.

“I heard that,” Charlie said glowering. “I wish I could go into cryo sleep while you did your work, but someone has to keep you company.” Charlie made air quotes with her fingers on the word company.

Jerrie sighed. She knew she wasn’t very good company for Charlie. Her entire focus was on her research. She had one shot to gather meaningful data before they traveled back to the main station. She wanted to make her time in the interstellar medium count for something.

“I’m sorry,” Jerrie said. “I tried to teach you about my work.”

“It is as interesting as watching paint dry,” Charlie grumbled.

Jerrie felt hurt, but she knew to most people Charlie was right on target. “You could read a book, watch a movie, exercise,” she offered.

“This is my sixteenth mission,” Charlie told her. “I exhausted my interest in all those things long ago.”

Jerrie had never really thought about Charlie’s past experience before. “Sixteen, really?”

“Lucky number sixteen,” Charlie said, rummaging through the snack box. “And no one ever lets me move the ship,” she grumbled while shoving a granola bar in her mouth.

“Never?” Jerrie asked feeling guilty.

“Never,” Charlie replied emphatically.

The two floated in the galley in silence. Charlie chewed on her granola bar and read the wrapper and Jerrie twisted her ring while biting her lip. She felt horrible. To be honest, there wasn’t any solid reason why they couldn’t move the ship. Sure, it would be more consistent to take all the readings from the same spot to minimize any undesired variables. However, she already had two months of solid data without one single deviation in readings. Not one deviation until this morning.

“Maybe a change in location wouldn’t hurt,” Jerrie offered.

Charlie’s eyes lit up a bright as her bioluminescent belly. “You mean it?”

“Yeah,” Jerrie said with a shrug. “We could move the ship every day for the last thirty days and see if the readings from multiple locations are consistent with those we have already obtained. If they are, then it would mean…”

“You are the best!” Charlie squealed while bear hugging Jerrie until she couldn’t breathe.

Jerrie just patted her on the back. “I know.”

Charlie threw her granola bar wrapper over her shoulder and swam for the control center.

Jerrie grabbed the wrapper and shoved it into a trash receptacle. “But only on one condition,” she called out, following Charlie and settling into the passenger seat.

“Anything,” Charlie said.

“No more of that wickedly green soda,” Jerrie told her.

“Deal,” Charlie said quickly. “I guess they don’t call it Aberration for nothing!” she said with a wink.

“Do they really call it that?” Jerrie asked wide eyed.

Charlie just winked at her.

For the next week, Charlie moved the ship every morning, and Jerrie waited patiently while Charlie added a few flips and donuts to the maneuvers. Charlie’s fluorescent color had faded overnight with the administration of several large glasses of water. Jerrie’s readings returned to the predictable, and she cheerfully noted that the change in location was having zero effect on her results.

Until day five.

“Charlie!” Jerrie called from her lab.

Charlie’s snake-like hair proceeded her around the corner again, but this time Jerrie kept her commentary to herself. When the rest of Charlie appeared, she had a puzzle cube in hand, something Jerrie had dug out of her personal luggage.

“I’ve almost got it,” Charlie said focused on the cube with one eye closed and biting her lip.

“You’ve started drinking that Aberration stuff again, haven’t you,” Jerrie accused her.

“No, I haven’t,” Charlie said looking wounded.

“Charlie,” Jerrie said sternly. “It messes up my readings.”

“Honest, I haven’t. Look.” Charlie threw the light switch and tugged up her shirt. To her surprise, her belly glowed again with a bright red luminescence. Although startled by the color, Jerrie still gave Charlie her best I told-you-so-look.

“Oh, man,” Charlie said groaning and pulling her shirt back down. “It must be the Tongue of Fire.”

“What fire?” Jerrie asked scrambling back in fear. “Something caught fire!”

Charlie cringed guiltily. “You told me not to drink Aberration, but water is just so blah.”

“So, you drank something called Tongue of Fire!” Jerrie said astounded. “I take it that it is a red color.”

“I wonder what color I would turn if I drank Void?” Charlie wondered, tracing the bright red highways along her arms.

“Charlie!” Jerrie said shocked.

“What?”

Jerrie was silently fuming. Her research was being messed with again, and Charlie did not even care. Just stab her with a needle and put her in cryo sleep, Jerrie thought to herself. She could feel every muscle in her body tightening.

“I also brought Everest,” Charlie mused. “Would that light me up white or have no effect, do you think?”

Jerrie’s eye began to twitch, and her hands fisted as she contemplated how to handle her reluctant companion.

“Hey,” Charlie said enthusiastically. “I just found something to do. I can study the effect that different sodas have on body chemistry in the interstellar medium. I mean, seriously, there is definitely something interesting going on here. I have never turned colors before back in the Milky Way, and I’ve been guzzling soda for years.”

At the word study, all of Jerrie’s tension melted away. Charlie was right. There was a seriously interesting phenomenon happening right in front of her eyes, and she was missing it. PAH molecules might help her understand the creation of the universe, but the implications from studying dietary consumption in the interstellar medium would be much more applicable to the progress of humankind in space.

“I bet we could get a huge grant to study it,” Jerrie said warming up to the idea.

“A grant, really?” Charlie asked.

“And, while we studied, you could move the ship anywhere you wanted and explore anywhere you wanted in the interstellar medium,” Jerrie said with a huge grin.

“There are plenty of other flavors like Fireball and Formidable,” Charlie said tossing the forgotten puzzle cube over her shoulder. “I could make a list. Ooooh, don’t forget Ebony. I wonder what that would do!”

“Only one way to find out,” Jerrie told her. As Charlie scrambled back into the supply room, Jerrie turned the lights back on and pulled up a clean notebook on her screen.

She’d contact the soda company first. It was a pretty good bet they’d love the publicity and increase in revenue a glow-soda would create. Proposal, she typed. Bioluminescence in the Interstellar. Who could resist a title like that?

Math Genius Explains Why Men Don’t Want Marriage Anymore

What are some popular street foods in France?

Let’s define street food first.

You buy it from street stands, market stalls or stores like charuteries, boucheries, patisseries, traiteurs etc.
You eat it on the street, while standing, without a real plate and real cutlery. A paper tray or a disposable wooden fork does not count. You might sit down on a bench or you might use a bar table.
It is inexpensive.
I do not include plain bread, breakfast items, sweets and desserts.

Then, let’s see.

Sandwich, very popular all over France. Pronunciation is different

Pan bagnat, a specialty of Nice. Kind of sandwich, filled with salad

Pissaladière, another specialty from Nice. A kind of pizza with onions, anchovis, olives

Tielle, a savory pie from Sète, often filled with seafood

Tarte a l’oignon (onion pie), a specialty from Alsace

Quiche lorraine, another pie with eggs and bacon

Friand, pastry filled with meat or cheese

Merguez frites, a sandwich filled with Moroccan beef/lamb sausages, French fries and hot sauce. Can be messy to eat.

Crèpes with savory or sweet fillings

Oysters. Yes, they are eaten as street food, especially in the North.

I am sure if this still counts as street food, but moules frites are very popular for celebrations and gatherings

Paté en croute, not exactly street food, but can be bought at charcuteries and eaten with fingers

Then, of course, there is falafel, hamburgers, döner kebab, shawarma, pizza, sushi and other ethnic food which is available everywhere else.

The Collapse of the US Empire with Professor Richard Wolff

https://youtu.be/1NmVbztjAp4

MM; the dancin’ fool

Ah. My Private ballroom dancing lessons.

When my first wife and I lived in Indiana, we took private dance lessons together. We studied with a dance professional who had a small studio. And it was a lot of fun.

We did this for a while.

Maybe four or five years, and we got pretty darn good at it.

We were near experts (silver and bronze level) on many Latin and traditional ballroom dances. From the Samba, to the Tango, to the Fox Trot and Waltz. We would dance to the Meringue, and to the Cha Cha.

It was a lot of fun in class, and we would also go to dance in the Delco Electronics dance club once or twice a week. Also a hell of a lot of fun.

Of course, when I was “laid off” all our dance friends turned their backs on us. *sigh*.

American culture.

That’s just the way it is. I don’t think that it will ever change.

Anyways, we did it for fun, and man, oh boy, it it keep us fit. During the Delco dances would would be dancing up a storm for three to four solid hours. It was so much fun and so intense.

Guys! If you ever wanted to impress a girl… lean to dance. Great exercise and really a lot of fun.

We start with a Cha Cha.

The Time of My Life – Dirty Dancing (12/12) Movie CLIP (1987) HD

Here’s a “Cha Cha”.

And here is a pasodoble…

Strictly Ballroom [1992] – Love Is In The Air (1977)

A great scene from a great Australian movie.

I’ll bet you all had no idea that I can DANCE.

Today…

What is the earliest year number you remember, e.g. 1978, 2006? Why do you remember it? What memory is associated with it?

I remember 1960, because we lived in a semi-detached house and had a babysitter named Pinkie. (one of the neighborhood teenagers). Apparently there was a child molester at the time; if we left the yard we would get a ‘Beech Lane Spanking’ for straying too far from home (the next street over).
My first recollection of getting a girl safety warning!

Next thing I remember is when I was in first grade (1962) and we were watching Shirley Temple Theater on TV. We were called for dinner and my sister couldn’t move. Turns out her appendix had burst and she was rock solid in pain. She cried continuously for years until she got into school like the rest of us. Except when she had the burst appendix. She couldn’t cry, which alarmed my parents so much that they took her to the hospital. Scary!

What were the first signs of dementia that you noticed in people close to you or in yourself?

When my husband was 50 I started noticing little things. He’d constantly lose little things. His keys, the remote control, clothing. He’d constantly forget to close cabinet doors, sometimes forget to flush the toilet, forget to bring the dogs inside. He also started to lose basic math skills. I had to do his time sheets and at work he was forgetting where he’d put heavy equipment. There were 100’s of little things like that and I and his colleagues noticed. Unfortunately his family members didn’t notice. That emboldened Ruben to think that nothing was wrong with him. It was me. It was his bosses. We were out to fuck him. I was delusional in his words. To say it caused martial strife is a HUGE understatement.

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It slowly progressed and at 55 he lost his job over it. His boss and I insisted that he see a neurologist. The first neurologist said he was fine, no dementia, just a bad case of ADHD. We were shocked, but relieved. I gave it year, but it was getting worse. We went to another neurologist and a geriatric psychiatrist. They did the Montreal test. It was apparent that his cognitive abilities were deteriorating. They ordered another MRI and then a PET scan and they both came back positive for Alzheimer’s disease. The scans shows all the tau plaque and tangles in his brain.

So now at 57, my husband is finally diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s disease. He’s still at the mild/ early moderate stages so was able to start a new infusion treatment. The treatment is a 18 month course of biweekly infusions of the drug leqembic. It isn’t a cure and won’t get anything that he lost back, it will just get the plaques out and slow down the progression. He’s had 3 treatments now. Hopefully it will buy use some time together and a decent quality of life. For now.

But be aware that it went from little, forgetful things, to major problems within 3 years. Fast in my opinion for such a cognitive decline. Things like leaving the car running all night, leaving the BBQ grill on overnight, leaving the dog bowls to overflow and flood out the kitchen several times, overflowing pots on the gas stove and practically gassing us, leaving the house and leaving the front door completely unlocked and open. He can no longer count money or do basic math, doesn’t know the day and can’t keep appointments. So driving will have to cease soon . That’s a huge, bone of contention for him, driving is his independence. He has a very bad short term memory, but a good long term memory. I could go on but won’t.

The thing is with him it takes people a while to realize his disability, because he looks so young and vibrant, and he is. But things are much better today, that’s all that matters. Tomorrow might be different.

Please, if you suspect you or a love one might have dementia, get evaluated as soon as possible. You need to catch this quickly and get treatment and your affairs in order as quickly as possible, while you’re still able to. Enjoy life now. Make memories now. Travel, enjoy hobbies, get a lot of mental stimulation. Just enjoy your time on earth while you still can.

South Korea – Impeached Coup President ‘Aligned With Washington’s Values’

During the last years it has become obvious to even shallower minds that ‘western values’ are just a marketing slogan used to hide the enormous brutality with which the ‘west’ is trying to bend the world to its will.

Evidence can be found in many recent international news items: The genocide in Gaza – transmitted live for anyone to see, the baseless annulling of democratic elections in Romania, the applauding of the Jihadi takeover of secular Syria. Israel’s creating of ‘buffer zones’ by stealing Syrian land is seen with sympathy while Russia is condemned for fighting NATO’s decade old attempts to destroy its natural buffer zone of a neutral Ukraine.

All this has led to confusion. It necessitates that the rulers sell black as white, depict destruction as rebuilding, argue that sheer tyranny is an expression of democratic values.

For an example of the last point see this remark by the South Korean pro war propagandist Duyeon Kim in a recent New York Times piece which laments the loss of a U.S. controlled proxy for waging war in the Far East.

Impeachment in South Korea Has Cost Washington a Staunch Ally (archived)
President Yoon Suk Yeol shifted his country closer to Washington and stood up to Beijing. But that foreign policy could be recalibrated in the future.

“Washington couldn’t have asked for a better ally and partner than the Yoon government,” said Duyeon Kim, a fellow with the Center for a New American Security. “Until we know who South Korea’s president is, the U.S. just lost a key partner at the leader level whose personal conviction aligns with Washington’s values and approach to regional and global issues, particularly when dealing with authoritarian states.”

The ‘key partner’ the U.S. has lost is the one who broke the constitution by declaring martial law, who illegally ordered military and police units to block the National Assembly of South Korea, who had planned to arrest the opposition leader as well as the leader of his own party, who even attempted to launch a ‘limited war’ with North Korea to justify his ambition for being a dictator.

Duyeon Kim is of course correct when she says that Yoon ‘aligns with Washington’s values’ when one recognized that these values are in favor of destruction and plundering.

She is particularly correct when she says that Yoon liked the way the U.S. is dealing with authoritarian states which follow its leads. That is why he tried to remake South Korea into one.

But such double talk is obnoxious.

Its contradictions add up. The political center which uses it is starting to fold.

Posted by b at 14:58 UTC | Comments (115)

Scientist Forced To Admit The Truth About Those Nazca Mummies

This is a pretty interesting video and covers things that I have been unaware of. Those implants, and the closeup pictures and images are truly interesting and definitely worth your time to check out.

Why are a lot of people praising Luigi Mangione as a folk hero instead of a cold-blooded murderer?

I felt we were right in the middle of a significant social event. If we assume Luigi Mangione is indeed guilty of murder, how people react to this murder tells me a lot more about them than the actual event. We have, in our hands, a morally right but legally wrong action. And how you see it and react to it is very telling of your character.

So let’s break it down.

UnitedHealth is part of an oppressive and exploitative system. We know this company (and other health insurance companies) put their own profit over human lives. We know the company had engaged in extremely problematic practices to deny patients’ claims. We know there are roughly 650,000 personal bankruptcies every year in the US. And we know UnitedHealth and other insurance companies are the reason for 60% of those bankruptcies.

We know this corrupted and exploitative system is entirely legal.

We know there’s virtually no way for normal regular people to push for a change. There’s no bill for us to vote. Our petitions fell on deaf ears because our politicians are bought by health insurance lobbyists.

Everything health insurance companies do is legal. They can roll out a policy that dictates what medicine is covered and what isn’t. They can send you to an out-of-network lab for your lab work, even if the clinic and the doctor you see are in-network. They can decide how long they are willing to pay for anesthesia for a surgery.

And there’s NOTHING we can do as regular people. There’s no free market for us to pick and choose because EVERY SINGLE HEALTH INSURANCE COMPANY follows the same practice, more or less. Every single one of them is a for-profit organization that prioritizes shareholder revenue growth over actual human lives.

That is the system we live in. It is a corrupted, exploitative, cruel, inhumane system, and there’s nothing we can do to change.

We would like to believe we live in a civilized society where non-violent protest and policy changes through proper channels are entirely sufficient to push for improvements.

In a world where one can push for social changes via legal proceedings or policy changes through their representatives, yes, violence is never the answer.

But do we live in that world?

When was the last time any politician submitted a bill to the House or Senate to strengthen regulation of insurance companies so they couldn’t deny claims so easily and arbitrarily? Every other developed country, some developing countries as well, has universal healthcare, except for the good old USA.

If an enslaved person killed his slave master in, say, 1812 in South Carolina. Was the enslaved person a “cold-blooded murderer?” After all, slavery was entirely legal back then. If an abused woman back in the 14th century killed her husband when he was beating and raping her, was the woman a cold-blooded murderer? After all, a woman could not divorce her husband for the majority of history, and marital rape was entirely legal until 1993.

If you were an esteemed gentleman or respectable lady of the South, would you shake your head and say, “Violence is never the answer! Sure, the slave master had killed many slaves and sold their families for profit. But violence is never the answer!”

We all imagine ourselves as the hero in historical events. We all imagine we would help our Jewish neighbors and help runaway slaves. And yet, we are living in a historical event that requires a tiny bit of bravery against the ruling class, social decorum, and the status quo. Here you are, saying, “Violence is never the answer.”

And when you see other people debating the morality of this issue and perhaps praise the vigilante action, you wave your hands and say, “Oh, people watch way too many movies. Hollywood loves to glorify a lone gunman who went on a rampage of vengeance, and you have a bunch of morons who couldn’t think for themselves and follow the stupid propaganda.”

Really? You think a lone hero fight against a corrupted and oppressed system is a Hollywood thing? Perhaps you should read more history.

People praise Luigi Mangione as a folk hero because that’s what he is, a folk hero. He stood against a powerful and corrupted system, and he made a statement with violence. That is, historically, what folk heroes do. John Brown was a folk hero. He led the abolition movement long before the Civil War when slavery was considered legal. Hua Mulan was a folk hero. She joined the army when women were not allowed to fight in the military, and she protected her nation and her family. Robin Hood was a folk hero because he committed crimes against the ruling class while helping the poor. Marsha P. Johnson was a folk hero because she was instrumental in the Stonewall Riot, eventually leading to policy changes for the LGBTQ+ community. All of them were criminals. All of them broke the law. Folk heroes are people who are operating OUTSIDE the legal confines of society to fight against injustice.

Luigi Mangione didn’t just kill Brian Thompson because he had a personal grudge against him. Unlike incels and domestic terrorists who lash out in anger and shoot up a school full of children and teachers, Mangione didn’t go out and hurt innocent random people. He picked a powerful man whose decisions and actions directly result in harm and misery. His action is the definition of punching up. Everything he has done so far is carefully planned out to make a statement. His action had indeed brought attention to our healthcare system. People from left and right had already found common ground against the evil practices of health insurance companies. They shared stories on social media and found solidarity with each other. Anthem Blue Cross Blue Shield had already rolled back their stupid new policy about charging people extra for anesthesia if the surgery ran long.

So yes, Luigi Mangione is a criminal (if convicted) and a folk hero.

I personally will not go out and kill anyone simply because I have neither the physical ability nor the mental fortitude to carry out such an act. But if I were selected as a juror for Mr. Mangione’s trial, I would give him a not guilty verdict. So, it would either be jury nullification or a hung jury.

For all of you “good” people citing Dr. King about “non-violent” protests against injustice, let me remind you that at the time of the Civil Rights movement, Dr. King was deeply unpopular in mainstream media.

Dr. King wrote about his opinion on the so-called “White Moderate”, in his famous Letter from a Birmingham Jail:

I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro’s great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen’s Counciler or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to “order” than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says: “I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I cannot agree with your methods of direct action”; who paternalistically believes he can set the timetable for another man’s freedom; who lives by a mythical concept of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait for a “more convenient season.” Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection.

He’s talking about you. So perhaps let’s not cite the greatest folk hero of modern America, who was convicted of multiple crimes.

What is a thing an elderly person said that really made you stop and think?

When I was in High School, I was a member of a Masonic organization for that age group. I and my friends had a meeting one time and a local older man delivered a talk to us, which was enlightening to us, but he ended the talk with a puzzling statement. He said ““remember, it’s later than you think”.

When we later reviewed what he said,we were told by our Advisor that this man had lost his only son in a private airplane crash , in a field right where the speaker was. This has encouraged me to be aware that we don’t know what is around the next corner in life, and that we should live life to its fullest.

Poc Chuc

This is delicious served with canned hominy, drained, sautéed in a little butter and heated through with some sour cream. Garnish hominy with chopped fresh cilantro.

Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

4 boneless pork blade steaks, about 1/2 inch thick
1 large red onion, sliced
1/2 cup fresh Mexican lime juice
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon cayenne

Instructions

Place pork and onions in a self-sealing plastic bag.
Combine remaining ingredients and pour over pork; seal bag and refrigerate for 2 to 4 hours.
Lift pork steaks from marinade, brushing off onions.
Broil or grill over hot coals for 8 to 10 minutes, turning once.
Heat onions and marinade to boiling.
Serve onions with pork steaks and warmed tortillas.

Donald Trump Tariffs Against China Just Backfired on the US Economy!

Thank you POET Technologies for sponsoring today’s video on China Tariffs. The US China Trade War will continue in 2025 and although Trump has promised 100% tariffs on China the simple reality is the US can NOT tariff China without hurting the US Economy. China has retaliated against US tariffs and started their own round of sanctions. What happens next in the US China Trade War? Let’s break it down in today’s video!

The War of the Feather Duster

Lily Kingston

“I never thought it was possible for a person to be so damn arrogant!” Zed screamed as he slammed the front door of his house. “Your ass better stay on your own damn asteroid or I’ll kick it all the way to one of Jupiter’s moons!”Through the blinds of his window, Zed glared at the abyss of space outside his personal asteroid upon which his house sits. His eyes zoned in on the house of his one and only neighbor, Mandy. Across the asteroid belt, he saw Mandy’s front door fly open and her step out in a space suit with a brick in hand. She threw the brick and shattered Zed’s window as it landed in his living room. A tight vacuum sucked in from the broken window. Grumbling under his breath, Zed slapped some Flex Tape ™ on it. “Crazy woman,” he muttered, then looked down at the brick. There was a note on it.Crouching down, he picked up the note. I didn’t steal your damn duster! Zed scoffed. “That’s just what a duster-stealer would say,” yelling louder so Mandy could hear him this time, he added. “I know you stole my duster ten years ago! I bet my house on it!”“As if!” Mandy hollered back.“That duster took forever to be shipped here from Earth, Mandy! I’m getting it back!”“I ain’t no thief!”“Yeah, right,” Zed remarked under his breath.Staring at the mess of glass in his living room, Zed realized he had spent enough time arguing and definitely has to swept up this mess. “Damn, when does that woman ever stop causing problems for me.”Zed glared at his closet door. Space-spider webs covered the knob. He hasn’t cleaned anything in years. Signing, he twisted it open and saw its crooked shelves propped up by a singular wooden broom. Slowly, just as he thought the broom was free from being Altas, and was about to carefully make his exit, the shelves can clamoring down.“Juck!” He cursed as debris cluttered at his feet.Something tapped his ankle. As he looked down, his eyes widened. It was the feather-duster.“Oh, juck.”Zed paced around his living room with the blinds closed and the duster in hand. “Oh, juck. Oh, juck. Oh, juck.”What the juck was he supposed to do? Apologize for his wrong actions? Admit he was wrong? To Mandy??No! Those were all horrible options!Then, he stopped pacing a sly smile grew on his face. “What if Mandy never knows it was here?” He cracked open his blinds and peeled at Mandy’s house. “Because I’m going to sneak it into her house before she ever finds out.”Zed didn’t bother to wait until ‘night’ or anything because what night? He’s in space! Instead, he immediately suited up and floated under the asteroids, out of sight, to Mandy’s house. He entered through a window in the basement. His weak muscles barely pulled him through the vacuum as he flopped onto the floor. “Man,” he mumbled as he stood up. “These houses were not designed for space.”After fumbling around looking for the staircase upstairs, Zed just ended up wiggling off a loose vent panel and shimming his body through the vent. He peeked out the occasional vent, using it to navigate through the house. Finally, he found himself in Mandy’s master bedroom while she was taking a shower.Zed pounded his fingers through the vent and tries to shake it off, but the metal held firm. “Juck!” He cursed as he heard the water turn off. Mandy would come out of the bathroom any minute now.Rushed to get out, he left the duster inside the air vent and shimmered back to the basement, went out the window, and made his daring escape by floating casually back to his house.Goosebumps run up and down Mandy’s arms. “Why is it so cold in here?” She asked herself as she pulled on a second sweater. “Geez, don’t tell me there’s something wrong with the furnace again. Ugh! It’s going to take so long to get a repairman here!”Mandy drastically pounded on the thermostat, but the temperature stayed the same. Then, she heard a quick rat-a-tat-tat-tat coming from her air vent. Slowly, she crept over to it, wondering if something was inside. She used her nails to unscrew the vent and remove it. Inside, she pulled out… the feather duster. Mandy went white.“Oh, juck. Oh, juck. Oh, juck. Oh, juck.” She softly cursed to herself.

She had been the one with the feather duster, she thought. Mandy began pacing. What the juck was she supposed to do? Apologize for her wrong actions? Admit she was wrong? To Zed??

No! Those were all horrible options!

Mandy’s Mind scrambled for a solution. Wait a minute, she thought, if I hide it in Zed’s house, he’ll never know…

Mandy broke into Zed’s house from a sky light on the roof because I guess just juck breaking and entering laws in space, right? Tiptoeing around, she looked for any convincing hiding spot to but the duster. A hungry stomach lead her to the kitchen.

As she stole all of Zed’s leftover pizza, an idea hit her. Underneath the fridge! Who cleans under there? Quickly, she stuffed the pizza in her mouth and the duster under the fridge as Zed’s footsteps approached. She dove behind the couch for cover as Zed opened the fridge looking for his leftover pizza. “What?” He asked himself. “I don’t remember eating it…”

Mandy nibbled on the crust in silence.

Zed tsked and closed the door. Instead, he grabbed a glass and filled with ice. Mandy’s eyes widened in horror as a cube slipped and slid under the fridge. Zed groaned and swiped underneath… only to have his hand find the feather duster.

With a fearful expression of his own, Zed pulled it out. Oh juck! I thought I hide this in Mandy’s house! What is this some kind of boomerang duster? Zed thought.

Swiftly, Zed grabbed his space suit and headed out the door. After it slammed shut, Mandy emerged from her hiding spot and watched from the window Zed hiding the duster back inside her house. “That punk!” She exclaimed, ironically. “How dare he tried to shift the blame and hide the duster in my house!”

Zed came back inside his house to find a Mandy with a crooked grin sitting on his couch. “What are you doing here, Mandy?” He asked.

“What were you doing in my house?” She remarked.

His face paled. “Nothing.”

Mandy wagged her finger in front of his face. “I don’t think so. You were hiding the duster because you were the one who had it along.”

“Ok, fine!” He confessed. “I found the feather duster but–wait a minute, how did you get into my house without me knowing? And how did you get back here just as I hide it?” He stepped closer. “And how did you know I was even hiding it, or that I had it?”

“I–well,” Mandy stuttered.

“You hid it in my house first!” Zed declared.

“I so did not!” She shouted. “How do I know you didn’t hide it first!”

Zed gasped. “Like I would ever do something so scandalous as that!” He lied.

“I just saw you hiding it,” she snapped.

He crossed his arms. “That doesn’t prove anything. You don’t know if it was originally in my house!”

“And you can’t prove it was in mine!” She hollered back.

“You wanna bet!” Zed screamed with a red face.

Mandy stuck her finger in Zed’s face, opened her mouth to say something before a confused expression flickered across her face as something outside the window caught the corner of her eye. “Wait a second, where’s the duster now?”

“It’s in your house.”

Mandy glanced back at the object. It was the duster. Just floating in space. “No it’s not.” Mandy pointed. “It’s right there.”

Zed twisted his neck to see it. “Oh, juck.”

I must have forgotten to close the window all the way.

“I guess that’s one way to solve the problem.”

The Noun Project

A collection of icons and symbols from artists around the world. It’s a great resource for designers or anyone looking for unique icons.

Noun Project

Some examples of the content…

MM’s AI adventures

AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Ba 1(17)

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Imposter syndrome

I wonder if any of my Boomer generation round here has a sort of “imposter syndrome” relating to their age. I’m 63, so, obviously, I’m way past being an adult. But I still feel like, when am I going to grow up and be a Big People? Somehow I became an old fart and I’m not even certain that I attained adulthood.

The Pink Floyd song “Time” has a lyric that says “..and then one day you find, ten years have got behind you, no one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun.” And honestly, that’s exactly how I feel, except it’s 40 or 50 years that got behind me, and I’m still waiting for that starting gun.

Space Oreos

Julia Vonalean

They’d finally run out of oreos. It took months, but finally, finally, they’d run out–the last one accidentally ejected into space. Sirius stood stewing in front of the glass window of his ship. It wasn’t his fault the oreo had been in that little cup he’d tossed in the trash. Oren was the one who had hidden it there, figured he’d never find it.He hadn’t. Obviously. Which was why it was floating in space right now instead of in his stomach. Sirius scowled at the speckles of light drifting out of the immense black.“Go see the stars,” they said, “they’re beautiful up there in space.” They said. Yeah well, Sirius wished he could haul those freaks up here and make them stare at the murderous fireballs for fifteen months in a broken down ship, with no outside contact and then see how beautiful they thought the stars were.Stupid stars. They could blink out of existence for all he cared–the people too.The ship had been quiet since their malfunctioning, sandwich loving AI had decided to go completely silent until they were – as she put it – ‘found by certain functioning individuals who could clearly state which sandwich was their favorite as well as help them out of this black hole of utter despair’.Stupid ship. He was decidedly disappointed in his ship’s ability to…well…move.”It’s not your ship.” Oren said from the deck where he spun aimlessly in the only swivel chair in the ship. Sirius turned to glare at him. Sometimes he thought his friend could read minds, other times he thought Oren just psychoanalyzed everyone like some villainous creep. Which….he was, a villain–that is—not a creep.”So how come we only installed ONE swivel chair?” Sirius said, stepping away from the ship’s window. Oren shrugged.”We should have installed two, because there are two of us.””Are there.” Oren said idly.Who knew, really, one of them could be imaginary by now. But imaginary or not…Sirius took another step forward. “Up. My turn in the chair.”Oren gave himself another spin.”Oren.””There’s a perfectly good chair over there.” Oren said, still spinning.”It doesn’t swivel.” Sirius said.”Sad.”Sirius glared at Oren, the little….. But instead of grabbing him by his perfectly manicured hair and hauling him off the chair, Sirius walked towards the doorway. “No prob. I’ll just go look through your knives.” Behind him the chair came to a halt. Slipping out the entrance, Sirius broke into a jog through the steel hallway of the ship.”Don’t you dare touch them! That’s my emotional support knife collection!” Oren hollered from the deck.Sirius made his way down the hallway of the ship to the third room to the right. Oren’s studious room. It used to have a lock, but now the door knob was completely gone. Sirius shoved the door open. He had melted the knob a few weeks back. Some of his finest work, if he did say so himself.Oren’s room looked like a real life replica of perfection: it was white–the walls and ground and ceiling-and there was a bed directly across, its stark sheets laid across the mattress more smoothly than Sirius could ever get his hair to lay. To the side of that was a desk, bolted and firm, with a spotless furnish and all the drawers safely locked. He’d have to see about melting those knobs later, maybe to get back at Oren for being responsible for the loss of their last oreo. For now though, there was the matter of the swivel chair and the knives. On the right side of the bed was a sparkling glass showcase, inside which was the most impressive knife collection Sirius had ever seen. And they weren’t just ordinary knives, there were knives from nearly every person Oren had ever fought — and then some which he had picked up from one market or another. Sirius leaned closer to get a better view of a smaller knife, its blade was shaped like a half moon. It—“STEP.AWAY.FROM.MY.KNIVES.” Oren growled from behind him. It was the voice he was famous for, the one that said ‘I’m a master villain and I’m to be feared’. At least that’s what it said to anyone who didn’t know him as well as Sirius. He turned with a smirk. “Oh calm down, I haven’t even touched them.” Oren stood in the doorway, stiff and imposing in his suit of white with gold trimmings. He glared at Sirius a good moment before stalking forward to inspect his knives.”See? They’re perfectly fine.” Sirius said, “in fact they’re perfectly wonde–“”You breathed on it.” Oren huffed.”I…breathed…on, what?”Oren went back to glaring at him. “The glass. You breathed on the glass.””But it doesn’t look any different.” Sirius said.

“It does too.” Oren insisted, “it just takes a sophisticated eye to see it.”

Sirius snorted.

“Okay Back! Back back back!” Oren said, waving him out of the room. “The next thing I know you’ll be sneezing on it.”

“Alright, I’m going.” Sirius said walking out. He hesitated in the doorway, watching as Oren glanced back at his precious collection. Sirius grinned as he watched Oren’s eyes snag on the tiny empty place on the far edge of the display case. Oren looked back at Sirius, and then, the man smiled.

A heartbeat later Sirius smelled the smoke.

Two heartbeats and the ship’s fire resistance system blared active.

Five. Sirius was pelting down the hallway to his bedroom and—and, it was in flames.

His…his bedroom was on fire. How was THAT even possible! The thing was made of steel. But…not everything else was: the furniture, the bed, the—“OREN!” He yelled, gripping the sides of his doorway. The vents opened in his room and released a white gas that filled the room, snuffing each hungry flame as if it were a boot and they–bugs. And then it sucked the remnant gasses back into the vents, sealing them again. Leaving behind a black scorched, smoke smelling, grave of bed-sheets and used-to-be-valuable collectables.

“Well” Oren said from the hallway behind him, “That’s a sight.”

“I can’t believe this…You don’t just set someone’s room on fire!” Sirius gestured wildly to his once semi-nice bedroom.

“Says the person who melted my door knob.” Oren said.

“You put A SCORPION IN MY BOOT.”

“Because you lost my knife.”

“I…” Sirius paused. “Well, it went to a good cause.”

Oren raised an eyebrow.

“Oh come on, scratching my initials on your armor is a wonderful cause,” Sirius turned to inspect his nearly nonexistent bed, “not my fault it somehow wandered off after that.” He poked his mattress and it dissolved into ashes. “Wonderful.”

Oren leaned against the wall. “Anyway, you’ve gotta admit, Sirius, I did pretty good hooking up the ventilation just right so you’d smell the smoke exactly a second before the alarms went off.” Oren said proudly.

Sirius wiped his now ash colored finger on his clothes and deliberately refused to look at his friend. Stinkin villain, had to be so good at his job. “I suppose you can do pretty good cleaning this up as well,” he said, “and replacing all my very valuable collectibles once we get rescued from this useless bucket of steel.”

“Hmm. I think I’m going to go on over to the Kitchen and look for something to eat while grieving the tragic loss of our last oreo cookie, instead.” Oren said, walking away.

“Hey!” Sirius barked, spinning from the sorry remnants of his collectibles. Oren was already gone. But he wasn’t going to get out of this, not this time. The oreo cookie–which was not his fault, in fact, it was Oren who tried to hoard them all up for himself in the first place–was the least of Oren’s worries. He grabbed a heavy bag from his closet and stalked down the hall towards the kitchen.

“OREN!”

Nothing, no sound. Except the thrumming of the horrid prison he’d been trapped in for what seemed like forever now. And he didn’t even have a stupid oreo cookie to solace him. Why? Because of Oren, because he stuck it in a cup. He rounded the corner of the kitchen section of the ship and stopped short. Oren was sitting on the table there, eating cookies. Chocolate chip cookies.

“You’ve had those this whole time!” Sirius exclaimed.

Oren stuffed the last one in his mouth.

“You could have left the oreos for me.” Sirius said, jerking his bag open. “But instead you put the last one in a cup.”

“A clean cup,” Oren said, swallowing. “It was most certainly clean.”

He reached into the bag, “honestly I really don’t care.”

“And I’m not going to help you cle–” Oren paused, “hey, what’s in the bag…”

Sirius chunked a shoe at him. Steel-toed, well made, firm as a rock. Made throwing it feel gorgeous. Oren gave a sound like a strangled mouse as he scrambled off his perch and out of the path of the wrathful footwear. It slammed uselessly into the wall behind. Sirius chunked another.

“Hey!” Oren yelped, ducking behind the counter, “What in the universe are you doing?”

“Throwing shoes at you.” Sirius said. Obviously.

“Now now. Heroes aren’t supposed to hurt their villain friends.” Oren said from behind the counter.

“Ah yes,” Sirius said, “except that doesn’t really matter right now, because if it weren’t for you wanting to run off and save the world from imminent disaster, I’d be safely on a planet eating as many oreos as I want.”

“Well then, you’re welcome. That would be incredibly unhealthy.” Oren said.

Sirius threw a gold trimmed boot. It plunked against the counter. Oren peeped up to stare at it, and then ducked right in time as he hurled the boot’s pair.

“Actually,” Oren muttered, “I’m rather concerned why you have so many shoes.”

“If I wasn’t in a broken down ship in the middle of nowhere, with no hopes of ever making it back to civilization, those shoes would be quite valuable!” Sirius wasn’t even aiming for Oren anymore. He catapulted a pink dotted pair of tennis shoes into the far wall, they hit it with a satisfying thump.

Oren stood, staring at him. “You mean to tell me….you collect shoes.”

Sirius threw a bright yellow sandal at Oren’s face. It didn’t even get close, of course. Oren looked at the sandal and then back up at Sirius.

“You’re a shoe collector!” He broke out laughing, gripping the sides of the counter. “How did I not know this sooner!”

Sirius paused his onslaught of shoe missiles, there was only like, one more left in the bag anyway. “They’re very expensive. And valuable.” he said in his defense.

Oren only laughed harder.

“Took me a long time to collect them all too.” He muttered under his breath.

“I’ll”–Oren said between gaspy breaths–“make sure to leave you my shoes when I die. Something to remember me by.”

Sirius rolled his eyes and tossed his bag in the corner. “I’d probably eject them into space if you did, like the oreo.”

Oren managed to stop laughing enough to bow his head and murmur, “we shall forever grieve your greatest mistake, Sirius.”

“MINE?”

“Yes.” Oren said, “You killed Mr. Oreo.”

Sirius opened his mouth to object when the entire ship beeped, as if jolting awake.

“What did my ship just do?” Sirius rubbed his ears, glancing around.

“Um…it’s not your ship. It’s mine. Remember? I convinced the previous owner to give it in exchange for his life.” Oren said.

“That’s not how I remem—” Sirius began.

“SANDWICHES.” A crisp, emotionless voice vibrated from the ship’s speakers. “THE LIFE-BLOOD OF MANKIND.”

“Hey Sandie!” Oren exclaimed happily.

“Welcome back weird, malfunctioning AI who secretly wants to murder us with sandwiches and false facts.” Sirius said. “Guess you got bored, huh.”

“HUNGRY?” The ship’s AI said.

“For people.” Sirius muttered. “And better company.”

“CANNIBALISM, PERFECT.” The AI said. “THERE IS A SHIP ENTERING THIS SECTOR AS WE SPEAK.”

A ship? Sirius met Oren’s gaze for a single life changing moment as the realization sunk in.

“We’re saved.” Sirius whispered.

They both raced for the console, and started broadcasting their existence to anyone listening. The radio fuzzed in and out for a few seconds before finally the first voice they’d heard in months came over as clear as the black in space.

“Unknown transporter. This is Fate-12, prepare for boarding.”

Sirius grinned, unholstering the pistol at his side. Oreos here I come.

The Shocking Truth About American Quality Of Life: Thoughts After Living Abroad.

What do you like most about being your age?

There are a lot of things I like about being in my eighties. For one thing, I don’t worry about most of the things I worried about when I was young (or even just younger). You know, from will I be able to get a date, to am I good enough to go to grad school, or can we really afford to buy a house, or what happens if our kid gets sick, or will I get tenure, or what will we do in retirement and can we afford it and how good is our health insurance, to what will I do now? I don’t have to worry about any of those life-things.

I realize I’ve been lucky to remain healthy and active into my eighties – even though my wife did not, and I live comfortably in the small home we purchased nearly fifty years ago in a small and quiet community in a very pretty area. So even though I’m not wealthy by the usual standards, I don’t live extravagantly and hence don’t worry about money (which is the cause of many people’s worries). I can generally do most of the things I want to do, and although fully retired I still live a productive life, have things I’m looking forward to, and have friends of all ages that I love spending time with.

That could all change, I realize, given my age. But as long as I am healthy and active, I am quite okay being the age I am.

I’ve found questions about feeling worthless after 40. That’s crazy because 40 is quite young, but I’’ve just turned 60 & I feel my life is over. Does anyone else feel this way?

I’m coming up to 77 and have various health isdues and constant pain, some days are better than others but I refuse to give up. Still play my piano and organ but can’t spend the time playing I use to. Could practice for 6 hours plus a day but now I’, lucky if I can do an hour before the pain in my spine stops me, just compression fractures, scoliosis and osteoporosis but life is still worth living and if I had to live for much longer I’d be glad. I panicked a bit at 60 but then got my pension and soon forgot about age. Happened when I was 70 and now it’s a number and I value each day and thank God for each day. Still do my housework, look after my hubby and aged sisters. Not as agile or can’t rush around as quick as I could when younger but still get on. I use a walker when out but no stick indoors. Have an electric mobility ‘buggy’ in our camper for the supermarket. Have a good sense of humour and I’m a chatty person but lije quiet times too. Don’t give up as to is the 30 nowadays. Perhaps worry when you hit 100!

A chap of 92 just played the piano on the tv. Also known another pianist in her mid 90’s and is a professional pianist. My sis in law at 80 composes beautiful music, is a choir mistress and professional pianist. Go get a piano and learn to play as you are not too old. My hubby started just a couple of years ago thought he couldn’t ever play both hands together and then found he was wrong. I taught him how to play simple chord accompaniment to start with. I had 3 strokes aged 28 and lost my ability to memorise music and had to reteach myself to play again. Willpower and cussedness! I sight read now and even tackling harder more advanced pieces. I just love music. Started learning at 5 years old. Wanted to be a concert pianist but ‘fate’ got in the way. But still play for my own enjoyment.

Don’t give up find a hobby, mix with others as life is not over at 60. Get a check up just in case you are anaemia or need vitamins.

What does an old person need the most?

Money.

Money can’t buy immortality, but it can make a huge difference in how peaceful or miserable one’s passing will be.

Ubers make up for one’s lost drivers license. Family is nice, but not always nice. Money can hire assistants who are loving and honest and kind. Money can allow you to fire any assistants who are not loving and honest and kind. Money can make a home handicap accessible. Money can allow a person to choose the very best assisted-living or nursing home, and can pay for carers to come in and provide more personal attention.

Money alone is not enough to create happiness inside a person. But money alone can help that person to be physically and financially comfortable. A lack of money means a lack of power and control over one’s life.

We theoretically sneer at people who focus too much on money, even as we worship billionaires. It would be more reasonable to teach ourselves and our children to enjoy health and life, while young, but saving what we reasonably can for our miserable old age. We can keep our car for one additional year. We have to fix the roof today, but we can cut corners a little bit on redecorating the kitchen. Save a dollar to match every dollar we spend on pleasure.

Do as I say, not as I do. I could have saved more, but I’ve got a bit of a nest egg. It helps me sleep at night.

Slow Cooker Brisket Sofrito

Slow Cooker Brisket Sofrito is an excellent filling for corn or flour tortillas.

Yield: 6 to 8 servings

Ingredients

1 (3 pound) brisket
2 teaspoons salt, + extra after cooking
2 teaspoons freshly ground pepper, + extra after cooking
1 large onion, sliced
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 (12 ounce) jar tomato Sofrito
1 teaspoon ground chipotle chili (or more for an extra kick)

Instructions

Season brisket on both sides with salt and pepper.
Place onion and garlic in a 3 1/2 to 5 quart slow cooker. Place brisket on onions and garlic, fat side up. Pour Sofrito over brisket and sprinkle chipotle chili over sauce. Cover and cook on LOW for 9 to 10 hours or until brisket is fork tender.
Carefully remove brisket from cooker with as little sauce as possible. Place on cutting board and cut into three pieces cross grain. Shred beef with two forks and return to cooker. Stir into sauce and season with salt and pepper (and a little more chipotle seasoning if you like it spicy).
Serve with tortillas and other desired toppings.

Has China lost the trade war with the US? Why?

This Fan costs ₹ 9,199/- in India retail to the customer

main qimg b1470e0db36346234cf93e68874cb5cc

In Shenzhen, it costs 650 Yuan retail and 500 Yuan on a MOQ of 200 pieces

Factory price 380–400 Yuan to manufacture & assemble

It retails in Europe for € 249 and US for $ 185–230

So when this company Atomberg decides to sell in US and quotes $ 150 a piece, the US and EU laugh and say “We have offers at $ 70 a piece from Shenzhen”

In India they may have protectionism but in Europe or US it would cost almost $ 300 to make these fans and then retail them for $ 450–500

So buying at 70 Bucks a piece is godsend and helps them make at least 90 Dollars profit

That is how China works

It keeps the ever burdened middle class still capable of affording stuff

You can pick up a Hair Dryer for 8–10 Dollars today thanks to China

You can pick up a top notch iphone for 1100 Dollars today instead of 2300–2500 Dollars each

Your Lawnmower motor comes from China and costs $ 140 to replace instead of $ 600–650 it would have taken for a Made in US lawnmower

You can have 8 Solar Panels installed for $ 1900 instead of $ 6000 it would have cost you a decade ago

Hell in India – A Home Solar Panel Grid in 2013 costing ₹ 4 Lakh now costs ₹ 1.2 Lakh

How can China ever lose the Trade War?

main qimg 780070da65459b1d6d95d85afc57621d

A German company comes to China, places orders for 2,000 Curling Irons for 300 Yuan a piece asking for their logo to be branded on the curling irons and places orders for printing boxes with their logos and printing manuals in German

That’s € 38 a piece

Retails for € 118 – € 120 a piece in Europe

Same factory gets a Japanese company at 2 PM and a Hungarian Company at 3 PM

Japanese place 1,000 Orders for 340 Yuan and Hungarians place 800 Orders for 370 Yuan

One factory makes exactly the same curling irons, brands them with 3 brands, 3 boxes, 3 user manuals in Hungarian, Japanese and German

One retails for € 118–120 in Germany

Another retails for € 87 in Budapest (36,000 Florints)

Another for € 80 in Tokyo (13,000 Yen)

The Chinese Factory makes all the 3,800 Orders and earns 1.236 Million Yuan

A profit of 8% means around 100,000 Yuan after taxes

Win – Win isn’t it?

Guess how much curling irons cost in 2000?

Around € 100

So thanks to China – Europeans are STILL PAYING the same price for Curling Irons as they did 20 years ago!!!!!

Make them in Germany and they would retail at € 350

Take India

In 2013 – a Inferior Micromax Phone, a Low Quality Crap Phone cost ₹ 17,000/- and if you wanted a smartphone you either paid ₹17,000/- for a crap micromax Or Lava Or Intex Or had to cough up ₹40K for a Samsung or ₹ 60K for an Iphone 5

The Micromax was 50% the quality of the Iphone Or Samsung but around 40% of the Price

Now for the SAME ₹17,000/- you get a phone that is 90% Iphone quality at around 20% of the price !!

In ten years!!!!!

China again!!!

It’s Economics!!!!!!

You can never lose

Hence why it’s called Win – Win Economics

You think US can fight economics and win?

Impossible

main qimg 05102c66ea00452efc7c383db27c1397

Only way to do so is to CREATE ANOTHER CHINA

Or just give up, lift your hands and enjoy Chinese Prices

That’s ultimately what’s the end game here

What is a thing an elderly person said that really made you stop and think?

This is actually a compilation of things a great-uncle, my grandmother, and parents told me, with a dash of what I would say now that I’m old myself.

I remember asking an elderly relative what it was like to be old. I was 14 or 15 at the time. And he was probably in his early 60s, younger than I am now. He paused, and I started to think he was going to give me a hard time for calling him old.

But he said, “When you’re young and looking ahead, it seems like you have all the time in the world, years and years and years. But when you get older and you’re looking back, it seems like it went by in a flash. You were young , you had children,” and he snapped his fingers. “And just like that they’re grown up and off having their own families. And the same goes for work and building a home for yourself. Happened in a flash.”

“The hard part is every one starts dying. One by one your parents, aunts, uncles, then cousins and siblings, all go. And people you knew since you were kids, and people you used to work with.”

“You go to where you used to hang out and suddenly out of the corner of your eye you see someone and think it’s them. ‘Oh, there’s John or there’s Susie!’ then you remember they’re dead and you’ll never see them again.”

“And you get nostalgic, sometimes for people you weren’t so close to but you were young together. And it’s pleasant to visit with people who remember them too. You reminisce about your adventures. You marvel at how stupid or rash you were, what poor judgement you had, and how lucky you were. And you’re grateful you survived.”

“One good thing about being old is you are never at a loss for stories to tell.”

Men’s dress various

China Confident that West Can’t Compete

Carl Zha talks to tech expert TP Huang on why the US chip sanction against China have failed and why Chinese tech people feeling confident that the West will not be able to compete with China, How Huawei was able to defeat the US sanction to be an unstoppable tech giant.

Bullets and karmic associations

I have a “thing” about bullets.

My father kept a box, a metal tackle box with a handle, full of all kinds of bullets. It was filled with all kinds of bullets. Indeed, he had bullets that were over a century old.

Big bullets. Little bullets. Massive thick bullets. Weird shaped bullets.

Lots and lots of bullets.

Many of the bullets were all showing their age. With the lead showing signs of calcification, and tarnish on the brass shell casings.

But it was fascinating to look at and go though.

As much as I loved those things, I could never see them. My father kept them hidden and locked away from me.

Now, my father was a “blue pill” pacifist. And he didn’t want me to fight, to stand up for myself; and to own a gun.

Oh, for certain. He was ok with me learning self defense, but only if I didn’t hit or hurt anyone. When he saw me playing football, he would run out and snatch me away and off the field from the rest of the kids.

…

Pacifist with me.

Different with my siblings.

One day, he was showing the bullets to my brother Daniel and then gave the entire box to him. He even gave him a Ruger 22 caliber pistol that he had. As well as a old world war II German rifle that he inherited from his father.

But I got nothing.

Instead, I was warned about the dangers of firearms.

That, if confronted; run away. Never stay to fight. Be a rabbit, and be safe.

I never could understand why he treated my brothers and sisters one way, and myself, was treated quite differently.

I do believe that it might be a personality or horoscope mismatch. Or perhaps karma. Or maybe the shadows of prior reincarnated lives. I really don’t know.

Telling me to be a timid rabbit, and then yelling at me when I followed his orders, and praising my brother and sisters for being aggressive and causing all sorts of mayhem.

This is something, I believe, that we all know and understand in one way or the other. It’s just that we just don’t want to face the ugly truths that it represents.

Relations between reincarnation experiences, karmic entanglements, and injection magnitude when one enters our reality.

Perhaps that is why we have many of the experiences that we have.

Today…

Albondigas con Chipotle
(Meatballs in Chipotle Sauce)

Ingredients

6 fresh, ripe tomatoes, halved
1 pound ground beef
4 tablespoons bread crumbs
2 cloves garlic, chopped
2 whole cloves garlic
3 eggs
2 1/4 teaspoons ground cumin
Sea salt, to taste
Freshly-ground black pepper, to taste
4 chipotle chiles in adobo
1 cup chicken stock
1 tablespoon dried Mexican oregano
2 tablespoons vegetable oil

Instructions

To roast tomatoes, grill or broil them as close to heat as possible, turning as needed, until skin is blackened in spots, about 3 minutes on each side. Cool.
When cool enough to handle, remove skins. Reserve.
Combine beef, bread crumbs, chopped garlic, eggs, 2 teaspoons cumin, salt and pepper. Cover mixture, and let chill in refrigerator.
In a blender or food processor, blend reserved tomatoes with chipotles, stock, whole garlic cloves, remaining cumin and oregano.
Heat the oil in a heavy skillet. Add the tomato sauce, season to taste with additional salt and pepper, and bring mixture to a boil.
Meanwhile, make uniform medium-size meatballs from meat mixture. Add meatballs to simmering sauce and cook about 25 minutes.
Serve as an entree over rice, or alone as an hors d’oeuvre.

on a preparty, my friends mocked him for his appearance, i couldn’t help but laugh but then…

https://youtu.be/wHYbY48CQL0

Shorpy

The Biosphere Project

Jillian Puckett

The sun hung low in the sky as Sarah Mitchell pulled up to the heavily guarded entrance of the BioTech Research Facility. As a seasoned investigative journalist, she had covered her fair share of groundbreaking stories, but this one promised to be her most significant yet. The rumors surrounding the research conducted within those walls were enough to send shivers down anyone’s spine. Today, Sarah had been granted unprecedented access to the lab, a chance to uncover the truth behind the top-secret work carried out there.Stepping out of her car, Sarah adjusted her notepad and checked her camera equipment. She was prepared to document every detail, determined to expose any wrongdoing that may be lurking behind the lab’s fortified walls. A security guard approached her, scrutinizing her identification before finally granting her access.Inside the facility, Sarah was guided through a maze-like corridor, taking note of the reinforced doors and surveillance cameras at every turn. The atmosphere was tense, with scientists in white lab coats scurrying about, engrossed in their work. The air carried a distinct smell of chemicals, hinting at the complex experiments being conducted.Her guide led her into a spacious laboratory filled with state-of-the-art equipment. Sarah’s eyes widened as she observed the rows of high-tech machinery, each with its own purpose and intricate design. She struggled to comprehend the magnitude of what was being developed here.Dr. Rachel Lawson, the lead researcher, greeted Sarah with a warm smile. “Welcome, Sarah. We’re delighted to have you here today. I hope you’re ready to witness something truly groundbreaking.”Sarah reciprocated the smile, her curiosity piqued. “Thank you, Dr. Lawson. I’ve heard so much about the work conducted here. I’m eager to know more.””Follow me,” Dr. Lawson said, leading Sarah toward a sealed chamber at the far end of the laboratory. The security measures surrounding it were seemingly impenetrable, indicating the significance of whatever lay within.As they reached the chamber, Dr. Lawson scanned her identification card, and the heavy doors hissed open, revealing a sight that left Sarah speechless. Inside the room was a massive enclosure containing a lush, verdant landscape. Towering trees, vibrant flowers, and a winding river coexisted within the glass walls, creating an ethereal oasis in the midst of the sterile lab environment.

Sarah’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What is…? How is this possible?”

Dr. Lawson beamed with pride. “Welcome to our Biosphere Project, Sarah. We have developed a revolutionary system that replicates entire ecosystems within a controlled environment. It’s a breakthrough in sustainable agriculture and biodiversity conservation.”

Sarah’s mind raced, realizing the potential impact of this discovery. “This could change everything! The possibilities for food production and environmental conservation are immense. Why hasn’t this been made public?”

Dr. Lawson’s expression turned somber. “The project was classified due to the potential misuse of such technology. We wanted to ensure its safety and ethical use before revealing it to the world.”

Sarah’s journalistic instincts kicked in. “But what kind of misuse are we talking about? Are there any risks associated with this project?”

Dr. Lawson sighed, her eyes reflecting a mixture of concern and responsibility. “There are several potential misuses we have considered. One of the key concerns is the possibility of using the Biosphere Project to create controlled environments for the development of dangerous biological weapons. The ability to sustain life within enclosed ecosystems could be exploited to cultivate and engineer deadly pathogens, posing a grave threat to global security.”

Sarah’s mind raced, realizing the magnitude of the situation. “So, the secrecy surrounding the project was to prevent such misuse?”

“Yes,” Dr. Lawson confirmed. “In the wrong hands, the Biosphere Project could unleash unimaginable devastation. We had to ensure that the technology was fully developed, with safeguards in place, before considering its release to the public.”

Sarah’s journalistic instincts kicked into high gear. “Dr. Lawson, the world deserves to know about this project. Its potential benefits are immense, but the risks must be brought to light as well. We need transparency to prevent any clandestine misuse.”

Dr. Lawson nodded in agreement. “You’re right, Sarah. We have been deliberating on the best way to strike a balance between sharing the breakthrough and addressing the risks. We understand the importance of public awareness, but we must also proceed with caution.”

Sarah contemplated the situation, realizing the weight of responsibility that rested on her shoulders. She knew she had the power to expose the truth, but she also had to be mindful of the potential consequences. After a moment of reflection, she made up her mind.

“Dr. Lawson, I would like to collaborate with you on this. Let us work together to devise a plan that ensures the responsible disclosure of the Biosphere Project. We must inform the public about its potential benefits and the risks it carries. By doing so, we can foster a global dialogue and ensure that this groundbreaking technology is used for the betterment of humanity.”

Dr. Lawson’s eyes shimmered with gratitude. “Thank you, Sarah. Your willingness to approach this with caution and responsibility reassures me. Together, we can make a difference and shape the future of this remarkable project.”

Over the following weeks, Sarah and Dr. Lawson collaborated closely, carefully crafting a strategy to share the story of the Biosphere Project with the world. They engaged in extensive discussions, consulting with experts in various fields, assessing the potential risks and benefits, and establishing frameworks to ensure the technology’s responsible use.

Finally, the day arrived when Sarah’s exposé on the Biosphere Project was published. The article detailed the groundbreaking technology, its potential benefits for sustainable agriculture and biodiversity, and the risks associated with its misuse. It ignited a global conversation, prompting governments, scientific communities, and environmental organizations to come together and establish regulations and oversight mechanisms to safeguard the technology’s ethical use.

The public’s response was overwhelming. Many were captivated by the possibilities the Biosphere Project presented, while others expressed concerns about its potential risks. Yet, the conversation fostered by Sarah’s article allowed for a balanced and informed dialogue, leading to a collective commitment to responsible innovation.

As time progressed, the Biosphere Project was gradually integrated into society, with stringent regulations in place to ensure its ethical use. It revolutionized agriculture, enabling sustainable food production in regions affected by droughts, extreme temperatures, or limited arable land. It played a crucial role in conserving endangered ecosystems, allowing scientists to study and protect fragile species within controlled environments.

Sarah’s collaboration with Dr. Lawson continued beyond the publication of her groundbreaking article. The two worked tirelessly to address the concerns raised by the public and to refine the regulations governing the Biosphere Project. They became advocates for responsible innovation, traveling the world to speak at conferences and engaging with policymakers, scientists, and environmentalists.

Their efforts led to the establishment of an international committee dedicated to monitoring and regulating the use of biosphere technology. This committee consisted of experts from various fields who worked together to ensure that the Biosphere Project was used solely for peaceful and beneficial purposes.

Under the committee’s oversight, the Biosphere Project flourished. It continued to enhance food production and conservation efforts, transforming arid regions into thriving agricultural centers and contributing to the preservation of endangered species and habitats.

Sarah and Dr. Lawson’s collaboration also sparked interest from other scientific communities and research institutions. They began to share their knowledge and expertise, collaborating on similar projects around the world. This global collaboration further advanced the field of biosphere technology, expanding its applications and ensuring that the benefits reached far beyond the walls of the original research facility.

As the years passed, the Biosphere Project became a symbol of responsible innovation and the power of transparency. The public’s trust in the technology grew, and the regulations and oversight mechanisms put in place served as a model for other groundbreaking scientific advancements.

Sarah and Dr. Lawson’s efforts were recognized with numerous awards and accolades. They were hailed as pioneers who had not only uncovered a remarkable breakthrough but had also navigated the delicate balance between progress and caution.

Sarah’s experience with the Biosphere Project had a profound impact on her as a journalist. She realized the importance of responsible reporting, understanding the potential consequences of revealing groundbreaking technologies without careful consideration of their risks. She became an advocate for responsible journalism and used her platform to raise awareness about the ethical implications of scientific advancements.

Dr. Lawson’s dedication to the Biosphere Project never wavered. She continued to lead research and development efforts, ensuring that the technology evolved responsibly and with the utmost regard for the environment and humanity’s well-being.

The legacy of the Biosphere Project lived on, not only in its contributions to sustainable agriculture and conservation but also in the lessons it taught about responsible innovation. It served as a reminder that groundbreaking discoveries could shape the world positively, but their potential risks must be addressed proactively.

Sarah Mitchell and Dr. Rachel Lawson’s collaboration became a symbol of the power of partnership and the importance of ethical decision-making in the face of groundbreaking scientific advancements. Their story inspired countless others to approach innovation with responsibility, shaping a future where progress and humanity’s welfare walked hand in hand.

it sings to itself

Masha Kurbatova

“I mean it’s a speakeasy. They’re like supposed to be hidden,” replies another.

Chicago is smeared with rain, and street lights blot yellow into the night. When lightning crackles, the girls scream. It’s kind of embarrassing.

They finally figure it out: that brick-red piss-stinking door is indeed the entry. Their hair smells wet, their mascara leaks, their shirts clump as they shiver into a dark hallway.

Further down is the bar. It’s dim. The bartenders wear vests. The walls are wine-red and stacked with framed photos of naked 1920s girls. Millennial hipsters eat that shit up. Google users give this place 4.8 stars.

A wooden stage rises a foot high. Tonight, Timmy is playing. The girls huddle around a table spitting distance from the stage. Timmy polishes his trumpet.

The jazz band swings under gold dusty light. The girls sip watered-down drinks. Bianca taps to the beat on her sweating glass. She’s bored, and feels bad about that.

Timmy’s a cool guy. His short hair is cropped close to his skull. Beige trousers sit above his bony ankles. He is long, loose, jaunty. His fingers bounce like fleas over trumpet keys. Bianca likes the music, though it’s the same old covers, “Autumn Leaves” and all that jazz.

“I like the vibe here,” one girl says.

“We should come back next weekend,” coos another.

They do. For seven straight weeks, they return to the speakeasy. Sometimes, it’s just them. Timmy nods their way from the stage, in recognition. Bianca notices he looks at her longer. He smiles, too. She fills delusional diary pages about that. She spins conspiracies about what it could mean. (Reader, I’ll be honest — he just does that. No reason for it).