January of 2016, my 14-year-old brother intentionally shot himself in the head with a .22 rifle … twice (the first time the rifle shifted and shot him in the ear, so he reset the rifle and the round entered his right temple.

I was at work when I got the news and I rushed to my mom’s house as fast I could … too fast to be honest. I couldn’t even get to the driveway for all of the deputies, fire and EMS crews. My grandfather’s truck pulled along side my car and my mom leaned forward from the passenger seat, covered in blood and tissue and said “baptist” (Baptist hospital in Winston-Salem).

Driving down the highway to Winston, I was a nervous wreck … I would catch my breath between sobs and quivering … unable to drive and yet traveling nearly 90 mph. Half way to Winston, I saw emergency lights in the rear view … the ambulance caught me quickly and had to be traveling nearly 110mph … I smiled … because I knew that he was certainly still alive.

Arriving at the hospital, there was already a family room prepared for us … I saw family members and family friends arriving … confused … scared. At this point, we didn’t know why my brother had been shot. My mom lived in a rural, heavily wooded area … there were many deer hunters in the area, and I had honestly assumed that he was accidentally shot.

We had been there for 30 minutes or so when the lead doctor came in and briefed us on the situation. He said that per evidence that was gathered by the sheriff’s department, it was concluded that he had shot himself intentionally. The amount of sorrow that those words generated soaked in the walls … the air was heavy and our faces were all saturated. I saw my grandfather break down…he had given my brother the rifle…his guilt was evident and one of the saddest things I’ve ever witnessed. I was so convinced that my mother would hyperventilate or pass out that we asked about getting her something to calm down.

This was the first hour of many restless days and sleepless nights. This was the longest hour of my life.

If there was a happy ending to this story you would be surprised … maybe even baffled. The round entered my brother’s brain and stopped nearly half way through. Over the next several days his head swelled and surgery was needed to relieve the pressure. His speech was very limited … his arms weren’t of much use … and he was deaf in his right ear. Through mumbled words and tears he apologized for what he had done.

Almost three years later he shows very little sign of ever having gone through such an ordeal. His speech is great, he has full use of his body, and his scarring is very minimal. He recently achieved his GED and he has just started his first job.

I have the honor of knowing the luckiest man alive.

I had a neighbor who did the same thing, called on a few other neighbors too. She had lots of money, lawyer on retainer, and a son who was a detective on the force. I got a temporary Protection order once, which she broke almost immediately. Went back to court she said she never came over and I said “are you saying you didn’t come to talk to Terry and Carolyn last week on Tuesday? (they were neighbors from the other side of me and they rented from her, but we were grilling out on my property). She said “Well yes, but I wasn’t talking to you” Her lawyer looked at her in disbelief, threw his hands up in the air, ‘pen flying out of his hand, mind you’ and I GOT MY PERMENENT PROTECTION ORDER that year. Next yeart the cops would talk to her and then come talk to us. They started coming and saying “how you doing today, she called again…pretend we are talking to us about it, then we would talk about other stuff for awhile, like how our families were, how their families were doing, kids birthdays or milestones, ect. They go tell her we talked. They said she needed a psychological evaluation, so told me to keep track of how often she called on me (she called on me the most, I lived right next-door). One time she even called on a neighbor kid cause he dropped part of his orange peel on her sidewalk. Another time she called 3 times in 1 day ( same cop all 3 times), he told her if she called again that day SHE would be arrested for false reports. Eventually the cops told me to get a 30 day police call log, file for a protection order, AND 3 cops offered to testify on my behalf. I did get log (she called the cops a total of 43 times in 1 month’s time period) and all 3 cops testified,. The Judge even helped by asking if cops ever told me they threatened to arrest her for false report. YUP!! Got that Permanent Protection Order immediately. Her High Falutent Lawyer was so pissed. I didn’t have any lawyer either time. She stopped calling the cops so much, but still cauesed problems for everyone. Eventually, like 3 years later the family moved her to a nusing home on the locked ward for high risk for running away residents. The family told us she had been suffering from Alzheimers AND Dementia for 7 years. Like they didn’t have a clue. That was 12 years ago, cops not called other than on some renters up the block for parties, drugs, fights, ect, but not on any of us that lived here then and are still here. Good Luck, maybe the cops will get sick of being called on you.

So you think you’re ready to move to America, huh?

Well, let me tell you, it’s not all apple pie and baseball.

One of the biggest shocks for me was the sheer size of everything – the food, the cars, the houses, the roads.

It’s like they say, everything is bigger in Texas, or in this case, everywhere in America.

I mean, have you seen the size of a standard American fridge?

It’s like a small room in there.

And don’t even get me started on the food portions.

You’ll be like, “Is this a joke?

Who eats this much food in one sitting?”

But what really threw me off was the whole tipping culture.

I mean, in most countries, a tip is a small token of appreciation, but in America, it’s a whole different ball game.

You’re expected to tip at least 20% in most restaurants, and if you don’t, you’re basically considered a cheapskate.

And it’s not just restaurants, it’s bars, hairdressers, even delivery guys.

It’s like, when did 15% become the new minimum?

And don’t even get me started on the whole tax situation.

You’ll be like, “Wait, I have to pay taxes on this too?”

Yeah, welcome to America, where taxes are like the unwelcome houseguest who never leaves.

But you know what really blew my mind?

The fact that in some states, you can still be fired from your job for being LGBTQ+.

Like, what year is this?

And don’t even get me started on the healthcare system.

It’s like, you’re expected to have a PhD in insurance jargon just to navigate the system.

And good luck if you’re not insured, you’re basically on your own.

It’s like, how did the richest country in the world manage to mess up something so basic?

And then there’s the whole gun culture thing.

I mean, I’m not going to get into the politics of it all, but let’s just say it’s…different.

You’ll be like, “Wait, you can just walk into a store and buy a gun?

Like, no background checks or anything?”

Yeah, it’s a thing.

And don’t even get me started on the whole “gun show” culture.

It’s like, I get it, America loves its guns, but do they really need to flaunt it so much?

It’s like, I’m trying to buy a coffee here, not attend a gun rally.

Anyway, that’s my two cents on the whole American culture shock thing.

Take it or leave it, America, it’s still a wild ride.

I’m 76. My high school and college classmates are dropping like flies. My time is coming fairly soon. I’ve had a varied and active life from stealing food from hotel corridors to survive to owning 4 successful companies and retiring at 49 to backpack the world with my kids. 35 was my best year. I was young enough to do it all and smart enough to see the traps ahead of me. One thing I wish I knew back then, not just philosophically, but at the basic level of my soul: It doesn’t matter. Nothing really matters. There is no point to all of the pain, stress, arguments, hassles, and the rest. I can buy a Lambo for cash and have my clothes custom-made, but I drive a 2,000 Toyota 4Runner with 242,000 miles on it, my pants are almost as old as my sons, I wear shoes I bought in 1999 that still have miles on them, my favorite food is spaghetti, and I tossed my smartphone six year ago. It drives my sons nuts. They want my wife to buy me a new Toyota Sequoia, a smartphone, and something other than the $9 tee shirts I get off Amazon. But I learned something years ago, long after my 30s: It doesn’t matter. None of that stuff made me happy. It gave me pleasure, but pleasure fades and the darkness falls unless you are happy at your core. I am. So, I’d have liked to know not to take life so seriously. It cost me my first marriage and bad relationships all over the place because I tried to grind my way up the “ladder of success”. And it didn’t mean a thing.

Navy boot camp, Orlando 1973. War is over.

The first days are orientation, haircuts, uniforms, making beds, etc. Then I see a guy on the top bunk, hugging his knees close up to his chest. He’s rocking back and forth, muttering, “It’s just a game. It’s just a game.”

Cheezus. The hardest thing we had to do was fold our underwear.

Number Two:

Recruit Roly Poly gets caught with his girlfriend’s photograph in his pocket, so we all do push ups. That night, a group quietly wraps him in his bunk with dental floss. In the morning, he can’t get out of bed.

At formation, a few guys pick him up, turn him upside down, and shake him up and down like a salt shaker until the photo comes out of his pocket. I still remember his name after 50 years.

Not crazy, but noteworthy:

Snaggle Tooth is from West Virgina. He joined to get his teeth fixed. His mouth is disgusting with black teeth that are eaten away into half-moon shapes. He laughs a lot.

Ol Red from Missussippi is a muscle-bound man with massive legs that make him step like he’s bow-legged. His arms are so huge they don’t touch his side. The chief yells for us to “pop tall” at attention in front of our bunks, so we all race out of the shower, slipping and sliding, and stand tall in front of our bunks. Some are wrapped in towels, some towels drop off. A few giggle at the absurdity but nobody laughs out loud.

Then out from the shower comes Ol Red from Missussippi. His standard-sized GI-issued towel barely wraps around his waist. Slowly, with dignity and a bearing that says, “ I dare you to make fun of me,” he comes around the corner, saunters up the middle of the barracks like he owns the place, walks past the chief, and takes his place at his bunk.

Now we learn something about Ol Red from Missussippi. His body is divided by a giant scar and his skin is different colors. Red, white, pink. It looks like a farm plow has sliced him completely in two, from the top of his head, through his face, down his torso, all the way to his feet. The scar is as tall as he is. Nobody makes fun of Ol Red from Missussippi.

One is 求同存异, which means to “seek common ground while respecting each other’s differences”.

The idea is that people and countries are different, and they should seek common ground, while respecting each others’ different points of view.

This is a phrase commonly used by the Chinese Foreign Ministry in press releases, especially in dealings with the US. Of course, it also conceals a dig at the US’s attitude in foreign policy, which is, as much as possible, to force other countries to accept the US POV.

…

Another phrase is 守株待兔， which means “standing by a tree, waiting for a rabbit (to run into the tree).

The origin of this phrase is about a farmer, who one day while working his field, saw a rabbit running into a tree and knocked itself unconscious. The farmer walked over and picked it up, and had his rabbit for dinner.

From then on, he stood by the tree, waiting for another rabbit to run into the tree, hoping that he would have another dinner.

The saying makes fun of people who think that pure luck will come to them repeatedly, and become stupid and lazy in the process.

Ukraine is located in Eastern Europe, and most of the weapons provided by the United States are transported to Ukraine through neighboring countries such as Poland.

Ukraine has a long border with the NATO country Poland, and weapons provided by the United States can easily enter Ukraine from Poland.

The Ukrainian army consumes 350,000 artillery shells every month, all of which are transported into Ukraine via the Polish-Ukrainian Railway.

But Taiwan is a China’s island Province, with no US allies bordering it. Under the PLA’s anti-access/area denial, US-supplied weapons simply cannot enter Taiwan.

Moreover, all ASEAN countries, including the Philippines, a vassal of the United States, support that “Taiwan is a part of China”, and the United States cannot find a transit point in Southeast Asia at all.

Once the war of unification begins, no ships will be allowed to pass through the Taiwan Strait, and PLA warships will intercept any approaching ships and aircraft within 12 nautical miles east of Taiwan Island.

Ukraine has been relying on weapons provided by the United States and the West to survive until now, but given Taiwan’s situation, how can it become Ukraine?

In addition, Taiwan is also not a country at all; Taiwan is within China, the island is in Chinese waters, and the PLA’s military manoeuvres around Taiwan are military manoeuvres in China’s own waters.

I went for lower back pain. I hurt after sitting, standing or walking for even short periods of time. I had X-rays and then was sent for an MRI. I was referred to a neurosurgeon and the infectious disease department of the hospital. My PCP called me on her day off and asked if either one had contacted me. To which I told her no. She hung up and next thing I know I had appointments with both. I went to the infectious disease doctor first and ended up going to the ER to be checked in that day. I had so many tests I couldn’t believe it. And so many different people bothering me. One of the tests was a biopsy on my lower back bones. I was awake for the whole thing. The nurse shot me up with fentanyl and something else but I was awake. Sliding in and out of the CT scan and watching the needle or whatever being repositioned until they finally got it where they wanted. Then I hear a drill and I swear to god it looked like a DeWalt cordless drill. I was diagnosed with an infection of some sort in my bones. They put me on two different heavy duty antibiotics and of course it ruins the vein where the IV is. So they had to move it numerous times. They sent me home after putting a PICC line in that ended close to the heart they said I have, 😂. Six weeks later after doing my own hanging and injecting antibiotics at home. And complications with the PICC line. I had 4–5 mri’s and I have to have disc replacement. 4 1/2 months later I’m told that I’m only “ about “ 30% healed. The surgeon said I was healing slower because of the infection. He said he got it cleaned up but it was a complication that is slowing my healing time. Unfortunately, I still can’t walk, sit or stand for extended periods just like before. I’ve been unable to work since the end of September 2023. I struggle every day. I thought I might get physical therapy and maybe an antibiotic and have been going through hell. I also have a knee replacement coming up. Life sucks.

RIP Terry A. Davis.

Despite being severely schizophrenic and bipolar—to the point where his speech was often nearly incomprehensible due to the constant paranoid delusions that haunted him—he managed to create a brand new operating system, completely from scratch.

It’s called TempleOS, and it’s an original operating system, written in a programming language Davis developed himself called HolyC (yes, I’m serious). It has is own unique compiler, kernel, and GUI, and includes various applications and games—even a flight simulator—all of which were created by Davis himself.

In his psychotic episodes, Davis believed that God was communicating with him and instructing him to create an operating system as “God’s third temple”. Hence, many of the applications and games that come with TempleOS are religious in nature, for example, a program that generates seemingly random strings of text, which Davis claimed were coded messages from God, or a program that generates seemingly random music, which Davis also claimed were sent from God. There are games that recreate events from the Bible.

Now, you might take one look at this OS and its features, and dismiss it as a piece of junk. And you’d be perfectly correct in that assessment— it is a totally worthless operating system, not worth installing except as a bizarre toy to tinker with. But you have to remember: ALL of this was made by one man, in the early 2000s, whilst suffering from such debilitating delusions that legally qualified him as a disabled person.

Unfortunately, due to his inability to land a stable job, Terry Davis fell to homelessness, and a year after that, he committed suicide. He often called himself “the smartest programmer to have ever lived”, and while that is a very arrogant and presumptuous thing to say, I don’t think he’s wrong. If this is what Davis was capable of while being batshit crazy, just imagine what he would actually be capable of if he was sane.