Over the years, I have collected a lot of stuff… today I want to talk about those little Bric-a-brack treasures that had meaning to me, but were meaningless to everyone else.
In particular, a rock.
You see, one day I was with my friends at university.
And they were all drunk, and I was drunk and tripping on acid (LSD).
And I had found a really mice well-rounded rock. One that really fit well in my hand and “felt right” to me. Ah, I guess you could say that I was “groking” it.
And my friend Howard, comes up, drunk and high. Maybe trippin’. I don;t remember. And he takes my rock and feels it and hold it in his hand, and he says…”it feels like something is inside of it.”.
So Howie gets a hammer and smashed up the rock into about five pieces. Three large pieces, two smaller ones, and a handful of dust.
I, trippin’ like I was …. well, I was crestfallen.
So, everyone saw my expression, and they were compassionate…see? And so they took the fragments of the rock. Bought some crazy glue from the local 7-11 and glued it back together.
And it fit right.
You know.
Except that there was this big crack seam. It did look kinda cool. And lordy! I did love that rock.
I carried it everywhere.
That is until one day, I cam home from work to find that my wife threw it away. “It was just a rock” she said.
Yes it was.
It was a rock.
But it was MY rock, and it had MEANING to me PERSONALLY.
And guys… that is my little story about my rock bric-a-brack.
*sigh*
Today…
If you were given a cancer diagnosis, would you have chemo or not?
No. I was diagnosed with breast cancer last year, in November. I found the lump in October.
I am 75, with other health issues. I had all the exhausting tests over a month. Then, I had surgery to remove it. One lump only, no lymph node involvement. Pet scan showed no other cancer anywhere in my body. After surgery, I had an appointment with the oncologist. I already have weakness and muscle myopathy. She said, “I think you have enough going on. No chemo, but some radiotherapy.” No thanks. My husband died from bowel cancer. I saw and treated his burns. Not for me. I’m in God’s hands now. He knows when my time is up.I have help at home, a cleaner once a week. Meals delivered. I hardly go out of the house, but I am as happy as I can be. I’m not worried about the cancer returning. It probably will eventually. I hope this answer helps someone. Diane.
TOP “Does He Look Like a Bit*h?” Reactions! Pulp Fiction (1994) Movie Reaction *First Time Watching*
For 2025, what are the best EVs to purchase outside of Tesla?
A while back, when everyone was going crazy buying Tesla stock, Warren Buffet, of Berkshire, saw problems and eschewed the stock. Instead, he studied the fundamentals and bought heavily into BYD, a relatively unknown Chinese car company. At this point, BYD is a better made car, is about five years plus ahead of Tesla technologically, and is about half the price. It also has better paint and a much wider choice of colors and more models. In all five measures of EV sales, Tesla is now Number Two behind BYD. (n.b. Yes, I know there are six fundamental measures, but Tesla does not offer hybrids.)
Unfortunately, BYD vehicles are banned in the US for the above reasons.
How will countries like China and Vietnam respond to these tariffs? Are we heading for a trade war?
China has no way out anymore. From my observation, 95% or more of the people support the government fighting to the bitter end.
From the grassroots to the elites, this is basically the prevailing attitude.
Even those who specialize in trade with the U.S. say: “At worst, we go bankrupt, but we support the government fighting to the end!”
（Faced with U.S. tariffs, the mentality of the Chinese people has reached a state akin to that of “Chen Sheng and Wu Guang”: to resist is to die, to surrender is also to die—so why not resist?）
The occasional surrender faction has already been branded as “traitors” by public opinion.
（During the last tariff war, there was an “economist” who said that surrendering to the United States at that time would come at the smallest cost. He even explicitly stated: we must kneel to the United States, and kneel in the standard posture of a slave. What’s infuriating is that back then, such remarks that humiliated our ancestors actually had quite a few supporters! This time, in the current tariff war, those voices have completely disappeared. If anyone dares to say something like that again, I’d be worried about their personal safety.）
If you’ve seen my previous posts, you might think I’m biased against liberal arts students — and honestly, I can’t help it!
So many so-called economists, lawyers, and poets or somthing else in China don’t know how to build a tank or construct a dam, yet they always act like they know everything.
How ridiculous!
I can’t help but say a few more words. Vietnam, Bangladesh, India, and almost all Southeast Asian countries should learn from China, reduce the proportion of humanities, and vigorously promote STEM disciplines. Take Vietnam, for example—I remember the data showing that 91% of students prefer studying humanities.
This is wrong!
When I was in school, the ratio of science and engineering students to humanities students in China was about 8:1. Today, it’s probably around 1:1 (the proportion of humanities is way too high!).
When it comes to a real contest of national strength, what are you going to do? Stuff lawyers into cannons and fire them off?
“First, let’s kill all the lawyers!” (Henry III). Well, I didn’t realize Shakespeare could predict the form of warfare centuries later…
Recently, I heard two pieces of news that made me very happy. First, Fudan University (one of China’s top five universities) has decided to reduce liberal arts degrees by 20% and shift them to science and engineering. Second, the civil service exam will increase the difficulty of math and physics.
Excellent!
I’m so happy I could go crazy！
（The image below shows the casualty rates of students from Japan’s top university, the University of Tokyo, during the kamikaze attacks launched by Japan against the United States in the later stages of World War II. Liberal arts students were sent to their deaths, while science and engineering students were preserved. The Japanese weren’t stupid）
So on this issue, China has no choice—it will inevitably take a hardline stance, even if it escalates into full-scale nuclear war.
The government very rarely launched a 12,000-kilometer missile and, even more unusually, broadcast on television the 5,000-kilometer nuclear defense fortifications built over decades along mountain ranges—the so-called “Underground Great Wall.” This was essentially laying it all out for the people.
China’s reaction isn’t up for debate. It’s like a “checkmate” in chess—if you don’t make that move, you lose.
Vietnam, on the other hand, is much more interesting!
So this piece will mainly focus on Vietnam.
Vietnam is different from countries like Laos and Cambodia.
Historically, it has been too heavily influenced by China—too similar to China. (Vietnam was once Chinese territory for 1,000 years.)
Countries like Laos, Cambodia, and even Thailand lack the ambition to unify the Indochina Peninsula. Vietnam, however, once had such ambitions and even put them into practice.
But from China’s national interest perspective, it absolutely cannot allow a “China-like” power to emerge on its border. That’s why the 1979 Sino-Vietnamese War happened—partly to align with the U.S. in countering the Soviet Union, but more importantly, for national interest.
China views the Korean Peninsula and Vietnam differently because these two nations are so deeply influenced by Chinese culture.
We can tell what these two countries are thinking far too easily—it’s like looking into a mirror.
“If we don’t know others, don’t we at least know ourselves?”
But the Korean Peninsula’s development is capped by its inherent conditions. Unless it annexes Japan—which isn’t very likely for now—and even if it did, its population and territory would still be limited.
Vietnam is different. The Indochina Peninsula has a population of hundreds of millions and nearly half of China’s land area. China will never allow a major power with a civilization similar to its own to emerge—that would be China’s nightmare.
In fact, Vietnam knows this too. 1979 was a time when China was extremely weak, a “once-in-a-thousand-years opportunity” for Vietnam.
The result? Starting with the war against France, then the Vietnam War with the U.S., and later fighting China…
Endless wars.
Deng Xiaoping’s words were: “Such a small country, maintaining an army of 1 million along the border year after year—they can’t sustain it.”
During the decade-long war with Vietnam, China pursued reform and opening up, developed its industry, and saw its economy take off, while Vietnam remained mired in the quagmire of war, missing its chance.
After the Soviet Union collapsed, Vietnam lost its biggest external backer, and Sino-Vietnamese relations eased.
But Vietnam missed the most important decade of globalization.
Later, Vietnam took over downstream industries from China, began reforms, and developed its economy.
Unfortunately, just as it was starting to see progress, deglobalization kicked in…
This tariff war initiated by the U.S. is a matter of life and death for Vietnam!
I’m too lazy to look up the exact numbers, but roughly speaking, Vietnam’s exports to the U.S. are around $130 billion, while its imports from the U.S. are about $15 billion.
Based on President Trump’s bizarre tariff calculations, the tariffs Vietnam faces are actually much heavier than those on China!
This is a catastrophic blow to Vietnam.
That’s why Vietnam’s General Secretary, To Lam, immediately planned a visit to the U.S. and announced that tariffs on the U.S. would be reduced to 0.
Trump was very pleased.
However, you need to understand that of Vietnam’s $150 billion in exports to the U.S., most of it involves downstream products from China.
For example, Vietnam buys electricity, parts, and chips from China, assembles them in Vietnam, and then sells them to the U.S. at a slightly higher price than the cost.
I don’t know the exact figures, but I estimate that of this $150 billion, China probably earns $100 billion or more.
So Vietnam’s immediate announcement of dropping tariffs on the U.S. to 0 is an act of self-preservation: it hopes the U.S. will lower tariffs on Vietnam in return.
There are two possibilities:
- Trump’s real goal is to bring manufacturing back to the U.S. In that case, no matter how much Vietnam pleads, Trump won’t lower tariffs on Vietnam.
- Trump realizes that the trade war with China has ended up hurting both sides—causing inflation and public discontent in the U.S.—but for the sake of votes, he can’t show weakness. Vietnam’s 0% tariff offer gives him a way out. He could “magnanimously” announce forgiveness for Vietnam, granting it either 0% tariffs or a preferential 10% rate.
If it’s Option 1, Vietnam will face an extremely tough period. But the Vietnamese people’s endurance is similar to that of the Chinese—I believe they’ll still hold on. And this would push Vietnam closer to China. When winter comes, they’ll huddle together for warmth.
If it’s Option 2, Vietnam will strike it rich, becoming an unspoken middleman for both China and the U.S. Chinese industrial goods would flow to Vietnam, get stamped with a “Made in Vietnam” label, and head to the U.S.; U.S. goods would do the same, eventually entering China via the Vietnam-China border. It might not even need to be that complicated—Vietnam could just set up a company in China’s Ningbo Port, and U.S. goods could be shipped directly to this “Vietnamese company” in Ningbo.
These are just some of my random thoughts. I actually have no knowledge of economics. The only book I ever tried to read was Microeconomics, and I threw it aside after less than 10 pages—I couldn’t understand it…
Mid-Life Crisis – A woman speaks
I’m 46 and I’m undergoing one right now, and it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever experienced.
It’s terribly amusing when you see it on a sitcom and there’s a middle-aged guy thinking he’s fooling people with his comb-over and his convertible, yet when it’s happening to you, I can assure there’s nothing funny about it, and there’ll come a day when awareness is higher and it’s as reprehensible to trivialise this phenomenon as it now is to trivialise other mental disorders, in the way that we used to in decades past.
I have everything I thought I ever wanted – a loving husband, my dream home, great teenaged kids who are doing well, I live in the first world, wonderful friends and family, awesome sex life, and I’m transitioning into a new career that’s really intellectually stimulating and rewarding. After a prolonged period of ill-health, I’m finally recovering my health. On paper, I have everything.
And yet… and yet.
Now that I’m getting better, and have some free time, I want to do everything and experience everything that I missed out on during the years that I was ill and the years that I was out of the workforce due to illness and child-rearing, and I want to do it now, before I’m too old, and I’m regressing to the level of a teenager. I’m so immature, and I’m rebelling like a teenager, and I’m a developing a parent-child relationship with my husband.
I’m aware of it, yet I feel completely powerless to stop it. The sheer force of this urge is overwhelming. I haven’t been an addict, but I imagine what I’m experiencing is something like being addicted to something that doesn’t deprive you of reason – perhaps like being a gambling addict, where you’re cognitively aware that you’re an addict, but don’t feel able to control it. You know what you’re doing, but feel like you’re an observer of your life, berating yourself constantly for your choices, aware that you’re being self-destructive, but driven by an urge that feels more powerful than your reason.
I resent having any limitations on my activities, even limits that I don’t want to transgress.
It pisses me off that I can’t just decide to go backpack in Thailand, even though I don’t really want to do that. It annoys me that I can’t go and pick up guys in bars, even though I don’t want to do that. (OK, maybe I do want to do that. :p) It irritates me that I can’t take a job in Dubai. It burns me that I can’t just take off with my girlfriends to the snowfields for a weekend.
And, yeah, OK, a lot of that stuff I could do if I organised it in advance and got my family on board, yada yada yada, but that’s precisely the responsibility I’m rebelling against.
I’m furious that I’ve got all the obligations – a mortgage, kids, a husband – that come with precisely the lifestyle I’ve always wanted and worked towards having.
Is that contradictory and hypocritical?
Of course it is.
Nobody said that a mid-life crisis was logical or rational.
I’m sure that we go through some variant of teenage brain again.
I still have all the wisdom and lessons and maturity that I picked up in my 20s, 30s, and early 40s, but it’s like they’ve been put aside. They’ll be available again when I need them, and I can access them when I really need to – when I need to “adult” for a while – but most of the time, I’m finding it really hard to “adult”.
You know what I really think would help me, and possibly a whole lot of others going through this? Something akin to the Amish “year off” of Rumspringa. I think it’d be beneficial for a whole lot of marriages if we mid-life-crisis sufferers just went and lived in an apartment on our own for a year, ran wild, and got it out of our system. I’m not sure, but I suspect that the vast majority of us would find out that freedom’s not all it’s cracked up to be, and at the end of the year – or possibly even sooner – we’d come home with our tails between our legs, ready to resume our suburban existences, and get on with our lives, happily.
But by trying to carry on with our normal suburban existence during the crisis, and stay confined within the boxes of our lives while we deal with it, we drive our families and ourselves mad, we spend a fortune on therapy, and we drag it out over years.
I dunno. But I’d be interested to hear what Anita Sanz and Mike Leary and others who have experience in this domain think of this idea. 🙂
Meantime, I’ll keep holding onto this rollercoaster, hoping my husband keeps riding it with me, and fervently hoping that we’re both still here when this ride ends. It’s not a fun ride. I hate that I can’t get off this ride sooner. I hate that I’m putting my husband through this. I love that he’s still here with me, and riding patiently with me.
I hope if you find yourself on this ride, you are able to be patient with yourself, and that your spouse is able to be patient with you.
It’s not trivial, and it’s not easy. Be kind to us.
Edit 2 Jan 2018: It’s nearly 2 years since I wrote this answer, and I’ve “done a lot of living” in that time – a very amicable divorce, a lot of dating, a new home, a new relationship, graduation, a couple of overseas trips, a couple of jobs, and a new career – and the rebellious streak is “just about out of my system”.
I’m definitely getting frustrated with the passage of time, and realising there’s not enough time to do all the things I had planned – at least not unless I hurry up!
Life is great. I ‘know who I am’, and have far less desire to pretend to be anybody but exactly who I am. If people don’t like me, it no longer bothers me as it used to. I certainly don’t seek to offend, but if I’m not somebody’s ‘cup of tea’, well, the sooner I find that out, the sooner we can both move on to find other company. That is no longer something that I consider my problem.
There are many positives to aging, and life can be great on the other side of a mid-life crisis.
Edit 28 Jul 2020: With the perspective of more time and distance, I now think that my “mid-life crisis” was the breaking point after many years of dissatisfactions that I allowed to accumulate and did my best to “grin and bear”. I was in denial, but you can only fool yourself for so long. Out of respect for our privacy, I won’t elaborate other than to say my ex husband and I both made mistakes in our marriage. We also both did the best that we could at the time. It doesn’t have to be somebody’s “fault” that a marriage ends. We have both re-partnered and we all compete weekly in a pub trivia team, including our young adult sons, and my ex’s partner’s teenaged son. We also spend Christmas and other family events together as extended family. It’s a great outcome. 🙂
Taco Rice Bowl
Ingredients
- 1 to 3 cups uncooked rice*
- About 2 1/2 cups tomato juice
- 1 to 4 teaspoons Taco Seasoning
- 1/2 cup finely chopped onion (or 1 to 2 tablespoons dried)
- 2 or 3 fresh tomatoes, depending on size
- 1 (4 ounce) can chopped green chiles
- 6 cups cooked beans (two 15 ounce cans)
- 1/2 teaspoon garlic salt
- 2 to 3 cups shredded lettuce
- 1 cup shredded cheese
- 2 to 3 cups salsa, to taste
- 3 cups cooked cubed chicken
- Cilantro (garnish)
- Chives or green onions (garnish)
- Sour cream
Instructions
- Substitute tomato juice for water on rice package directions. Measure enough rice and tomato juice for 6 servings. Add 1 1/2 teaspoons taco seasoning and the onion to tomato juice. Prepare rice following package directions.
- Chop tomatoes. Stir half the tomatoes and the canned chiles into rice.
- Season cooked beans to taste with garlic salt, and taco seasoning. Use a potato masher to partially mash beans (may substitute refried beans, if desired – thin to desired consistency with water).
- Spoon 1/2 to 3/4 cups rice in bottom of bowl. Add about 1/2 cup seasoned beans, shredded lettuce, cheese, and salsa. Top with cubed or sliced cooked chicken. Garnish with sprigs of cilantro, chives and a dollop of sour cream.
Notes
* May use Minute, short grain or long grain rice. Measure enough rice for 6 servings.
Would you rather have married young?
I’m now 70. I never married, never had kids. I live alone. At 48, I accepted a guys housekey offer, lived with him 3 months. While still paying rent & utilities at my own apartment. End of 3 months, I went back home. “So when I was old I could look back & say I lived with a guy.” I feel if I put my mind to something, I always manage to do it & do it well. Had i married young, I woulda probably still been married. But that pulls so many others, relatives, their friends, all into Your life. Being a single hermit at 70 is quite serene simple & drama free
In countries with universal healthcare, after you return home from being in the hospital, do you get an itemized statement with zero amount due or do you not get all that paperwork mailed to you?
Answering as a disabled Canadian who’s had to access my provincial healthcare system far more often than I’d like for both myself and some now deceased relatives.
We don’t receive any bills and we don’t need to deal with any paperwork. Well aside from parking, snacks and TV if staying in the hospital, I mean.
Let me spell it out for you. In Canada you do not need any money for any kind medical appointment, procedure, surgery or hospital stay. You will not be billed for any of it at any time if you’re a legal resident of Canada. You will not be required to have anything pre-approved and if a doctor orders anything for you, you get it, period. There are no reams of paperwork to fill out. There are no insurance agents or bureaucrats of any kind that have any say in what tests, treatments, procedures and surgeries we can have. All of our care is between us and our doctors, no one else.
We have some of the best trained doctors on the planet and contrary to American rumours, we also have modern facilities and medical technology.
Sure there may be a wait to see a specialist, or have to have imaging such an MRI, or to have a non urgent procedure or surgery, but if it’s urgent you’ll be seen a lot sooner and if it’s life or death, you’re seen immediately. There are no treatment caps and no-one is ever refused care because of their age or disability. It is always based on what’s best for the patient.
Healthcare in Canada is delivered on a triage basis and has nothing at all to do with how much money one does or does not have. You cannot buy your way to the front of the line here.
The costs for all of this are half of what the US pays per capita for their non system and it’s a lot more equitable and effective.
It’s not perfect and there’s always room for improvement, but Canadian healthcare is still one of the best on the planet.
I really don’t understand why Americans don’t listen. Scads of folks from all over the free world have been trying to show the US how much better things are with a form of universal healthcare (UHC), especially a single payer version, for decades. Some of us have explained it ad naseum here on Quora, yet still they act like we must be lying. They really need to stop believing right wing politicians, because they flat out lie about UHC.
Catch a clue America, it’s no skin off our nose if you choose to continue suffering without a form of UHC. We have no reason to lie as it would gain us nothing at all. We simply don’t want to see our fellow humans suffer unnecessarily. Speaking of which, y’all should be demanding Trump’s removal from office. He and Musk are trying to ensure that you do without any healthcare at all that you can’t outright pay for, all to fund tax cuts for the uber wealthy.
HIDEOUS
Written in response to: “Write a story about a cherished heirloom that has journeyed through multiple generations.“
Deb Dobbins
Later, that same night, she went to the kitchen for a drink. As she passed through the living-room she noticed the lamp was glowing and emitting the exact high-pitched sound she had been hearing. She hadn’t noticed a lava substance inside the class globe before this, but now it was a florescent goo, bubbling and churning counterclockwise inside the glass globe. Rooted to the spot she was unable to tear eyes away from the lamp. The silver top was shining like a bright star, and the copper base was levitating the lamp two or three inches above the table upon which it normally sat.
After a time, the humming stopped, as well as the lamp stopped moving. Estele continued to the kitchen, drank a glass of water, and went back to bed as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. When she woke up the next morning, she remembered bits but thought it to be some weird dream.
This became a regular occurrence for most of her years. Awakened in the early hours, drawn to the lamp, she would stand motionless watching its show then return to bed unaware. The rest of the time the lamp would sit on a table alone, in a place of prominence to all the world like an unsightly, old lamp.
On grandma Estele’ death bed, she told the story to her daughter Caroline, making her swear to keep the lamp in the family’s control, passing it down from one generation to the next, so long as our familial line survived. If for some reason our line died out, the last survivor must pass the lamp on to someone they felt could, “be trusted” with the obligation.
This is the part, my great-great grandmother had a tough time believing; Grandma Estele had told her; “there will come a time when the people of our planet have destroyed everything, and the planet will no longer be sustainable. When this happens, whoever is in possession of the lamp at that time will receive instructions, through the lamp, telling how to save many survivors.
My great, great, grandma, Caroline couldn’t believe the story and took it as the ponderings of a senile old woman. She stored the lamp in the attic, she wanted nothing more to do with it. She feared there might be some strange and unbelievable truth to the story therefor hesitated to discard it…
One-night, many years later, she heard a pounding in the attic—a sound that echoed only in her ears. Grandma Caroline afflicted with tinnitus like her mother, began to think there might be something to the tale her mother had spun on her death bed.
As she ascended the stairs to the attic her trembling was so intense, lifting her feet from step to step felt impossible. The pounding was so severe Caroline feared the attic floor would collapse as she stepped through the doorway.
Multiple colors of light shot from the churning and bubbling in the glass globe, the silver sphere on the top of the lamp was spinning so quickly it almost appeared motionless. The copper base slammed down onto the table after hovering above it momentarily. Caroline watched in fear for what seemed like hours. The lamp stopped spinning and churning, stood motionless once again on the table.
Caroline moved sure-footed down the stairs on previously treacherous legs, not remembering the details of what had happened for many more years. Upon her death bed it all came flooding back as if it were yesterday.
Caroline lay in the hospital bed whispering into her daughter Shasta’ ear. She shared the story her mother had imparted to her on her deathbed, intertwining it with her own unbelievable tale. Caroline told of the message given to her that momentous night in the attic. Revealed to her that night was another piece of the mystery.
“Those who are selected will know when the time comes, they will also experience a humming, ringing, or buzzing in their ears. Through this connection, they will know when to prepare for the great departure.”
Great Grandma Shasta promptly removed the lamp from her mothers’ house, carefully transporting it to its new home, once again giving it the place of prominence it expected. Shasta carefully watched over the lamp, polishing it daily and feeling an unfamiliar warmth when she was near it. As instructed by her mother she never shared the secrets of the lamp with others. Through the years she spoke to the lamp, telling it of the changes to life on the planet and how fearful she was becoming.
One night, as she relaxed at home alone, a loud buzzing penetrated her subconscious. The lamp began to shake and rotate above the table, lights shot out from the glass globe, penetrating her body to its deepest core. Afterwards Shasta lay in her bed a strange warmth spreading throughout her body, it gave her a feeling of intense wellbeing.
On Shasta’s 95th birthday, she pulled her daughter, Aurora, aside to share the tale passed down for three generations. As she recounted her own encounter with the lamp, she seemed to glow from within. She finished her tale by imparting the subliminal message, a warning the lamp gave her on that extraordinary night.
“Do not fear or worry, all will be revealed when the time approaches.” After the telling, Shasta lay her head against the back of her favorite rocker she had long ago placed beside the treasured lamp, then closed her eyes for the last time.
Aurora, my mother, spent hours looking at the lamp that day with mixed emotions. If the lamp was the cause of her mother’s longevity, was she the only one, if so, why was she blessed with this. Or is it possible that the lamp was the cause of her demise that day?
When she transported the lamp to its new home with her family, she felt an eerie warmth emanating from it. As she placed it on the mantle over the fireplace, she could feel the essence of all the women who beheld the lamp before her.
Over the years Aurora felt a deep connection with the lamp, watching it stir and listening intently to the sounds emanating from the globe. She wanted to share this experience with her family, but remembered, Grandma Shasta’s warning to never to tell anyone. Unsure of what might happen if she did, afraid to surrender her secret and find out, she struggled with the fear to share it and the desire and hope that doing so would free her mind.
Aurora lacked the strength of the families past generations of women, after too many years of internal struggle, the strain unexpectantly claimed her life before she could pass on the instructional tale to me, her daughter, Estele LaChance Prosper.
My twenty first birthday was only a month prior to my mother’s death at the early age of forty-one. While sorting through my mother, Auroras private things, I found her diaries, read the stories passed on from my great grandmothers and my grandmother Shasta. As I read of the relationship my mother had with the lamp, the turmoil it caused her, I surmised the reason behind her rapid decline. I hated the lamp, wanted to destroy it. I tried burning it in the huge basement furnace, leaving it for a week before checking on the progress of its destruction.
As I opened the door to the furnace room, the lamp was waiting, it was turning slowly inside the huge furnaces belly. The lights in the glass globe were flashing brightly and the silver sphere on top was burning bright red. As soon as the furnace door was opened, the lamp shot out of the furnace grazing my arm on the way by. It flew around the room, darting from side to side, stopped and floated expectantly in front of me. When the silver tip ceased to pulse, a red-hot throbbing filled my head accompanied by a loud pounding in my ears.
I threw my hands over my ears as a barrier to block out the noise, but the sound was inside of my head. I realized I was unable to stop it. I fell onto the hard concrete floor landing on my knees. The lamp touched down a slight foot away, but I hadn’t the strength to reach out to it. Cowered on the floor, the pain in my head explosive, blood trickled from my ears and spread across my hands. I lifted my gaze to the glass dome of the lamp and screamed, “STOP!”
My eyes pop open, followed by my body; popping up like a jack-in-the-box, with no music accompaniment and no longer the the hot throbbing pain. I quickly twirled around in search of the lamp, finding it hovering at the top of the basement stairs. I struggled up the stairs muttering under my breath, I must be crazy, or this must be a nightmare. Surly, I thought, I must be in my room, lying on my bed sound asleep.
I followed the lamp as it floated through the hallway, past my bedroom. So much for my being in bed asleep, I thought. Moving with ease and finally without pain, I followed the lamp through the doorway at the end of the hall. I watched as the lamp set itself down gently on the table beside the rocking chair that Grandma Shasta had left to my mother when she passed. I sat in the chair, eyeing the lamp inquisitively. “OK, what now?”
A warming high-pitched humming vibrated through me, gently moving past the outer layer of skin and flesh, past bone, and into my organs. The sound filled my head, invading my sensory nerves. I watched the colors change and twirl in the glass globe, the copper base shown brighter, pulsing in-sync with the humming in my head. I relaxed and closed my eyes, focused intently on the message sent to my subliminal cortex.
“I won’t forget.” I say aloud.
Now, I at the desk in my space cabin, going over my ledger, ensuring a proper and complete transcript is available for the generations to come. I am writing everything recalled in the diaries all my grandmothers had passed on, one to the other, and eventually to me.
This is my first entry into my survivors’ log…
Departure from earth, now on our way to new home planet, led by the guiding light of the lamp my grandmother purchased four generations before me. A universal mapped -out route of travel is input here.
Here, I write the words to live by in peace, love and understanding transmitted to me by the survivor lamps guiding light.
#1. Do not be afraid, the lamp is here to guide you.
#2. When you arrive at your destination, form groups according to ability and profession.
#3. Practice love of one another and of your new home planet.
#4. You must always be ready, for when the need should arise to leave here and find another compatible planet.
.
#5 When the time comes to lead those deemed worthy of the movement, those who crave freedom from tyranny, and oppression from regimes who seek control of all things and people, caring only for their own monetary and self-fulfilling gains, with no regard for the needs and desires of others.
#6. You will know those earnest devotees, by the pledge implanted in their memory, which they will communicate to you, using the language we have taught you. Be prepared to acknowledge and accept them as brothers and sisters.
After writing these directives down for future generations along with the tales from my grandmothers, mother, and myself. I relayed that in my mother’s diary, my name, LaChance, is short for “Last Chance”.
I closed my ledger; I leave it on my desk for future readers. I feel a tiredness of the ages, worn and frazzled nerves.
I am eager now for a nice long nap. I lay on my cot, hearing nothing but quiet. Finally. At long last…
What is the purpose of China’s retaliatory tariffs on US goods? Is it to harm Trump politically or to demonstrate their power?
It’s a dare for strike 3.
When Trump increased tariff on China for the first time this year, China’s response was very light.
This is called 先礼后兵, or “courtesy before war” in Chinese.
Now that Trump did it again, China matched with 34% tariff, and upped the ante a bit, banning some American farm products due to “health reasons”, banning 11 American drone companies from buying tech components in China, and banning the export of some rare earth minerals, which will stall American military industry in producing some advanced weaponry.
This is called 事不过三, or “Never a third time” warning in Chinese.
What may have really got Trump rattled that he tweeted like that, is the potential mass effect the Chinese response may bring. The American tariff on the world is unpopular around the world. There’s also the claims of American expansion to Canada and Greenland, abandoning of Europe to Russia, Trump has basically put the US against the whole world, and the expectation was that other countries due to fear of the US, would not retaliate. China has just stood out and set an example.
Will other countries/regions that are equally or more unhappy, follow China?
To deter them, I get the feeling that the US may foolishly try something against China again, if just to set an example for other countries.
That’s when we will see some real interesting Chinese response.
“WHO IS JOHN WICK!?” John Wick (2014) First Time Watching Movie Reaction Compilation
What is the most ungrateful thing you’ve ever witnessed on the holidays?
WARNING: The year was 1972 – KEEP THIS IN MIND.
This rich kid (I will call him Eric) – he was born on December 25. So he always gets doubled up on presents – birthday presents SEPARATE from Holiday (Hanukkah and Christmas) presents.
His grandfather offered to buy him any car he wanted since he turned 18. He said he wanted a Porsche Sports car a RED one with Leather Interior with 8 Track- a 1973 Porsche 911 Carrera RS 2.7. Well, his grandfather wasn’t able to get him that (unavailable in the area or region) – so in turn he bought him a 1973 Porsche 914/4 2.0! Both are extremely expensive sports cars!
His grandfather had it gift wrapped with a mega-giant bow with a super sized gift tag which said “Happy Hanukkah, Christmas and Birthday! Happy Everything Eric!”
I was only a kid, invited over December 25th, 1972 (Monday) at 11 AM until 1 PM – Birthday Party (his parents hired me for lawn and pool care, thought I would enjoy this).
Prime Rib & 2.5–3 Pound Lobster → with all the fixings was for lunch, and a triple decker birthday cake!! (UGH! Left me with no room in my tummy for my own family Christmas Dinner – Ham with all the fixings!)
He opened all of his birthday presents (I got him a car model with paint and glue – he loved to build cars).
(Image of Rolls Royce Phantom – Revelle – taken from the internet)
The biggest present was a HUGE BOX – (main) and plus he had to open 17 other boxes (grew smaller and smaller and smaller). He was thinking all along that it was money. (By the time he got to the 15th box – it was getting smaller.) Then the 18th box, which was the size of the palm of your hand… He opened it and unfolded the paper which the message read: “Happy Birthday Grandson, Sorry I could not be there. I got the car you wanted, the keys are on top of the fireplace mantle! Your Parents have the paperwork and all. Love Gramps!”
He immediately rushed to the fire place mantle, found the keys – and it had the Porsche emblem on it. And he shouted “YIPPEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” and rushed outside and finding on the front lawn (this was the reason why his parents had the curtains drawn in the front of the house with the “excuse of” morning sun blaring through the windows.)
He rips the bow off, and followed by wrapping paper and just stood there – visibly upset!
He went back inside the house and cried! His parents were a bit confused, and everyone who was “excited” for him… were also confused. I was bewildered! (In fact, if I was given the car, I would have been on cloud 9 – but my parents wouldn’t let me own it – HA) Yes, he was on the expensive leather luxury recliner crying like an 18 month old brat!
DAD: What’s the matter son?
ERIC: It’s a 914, I wanted the 911
MOM: They didn’t have any in stock or availability in the area.
DAD: Son, that’s an expensive gift from my dad, you will call him up and you will thank him!
ERIC: It’s not a 911, it’s a 914! I wanted a 911! Not some cheap crap!
MOM: Too bad, you got your Porsche, and Gramps went into the extreme measure to get everything you wanted inside and out. THEY JUST DID NOT HAVE 911’s available!
DAD: If you refuse to take it, I will have them pick it up and return everything back to Dad.
ERIC: (remained on chair bawling like a brat)
ERIC’S GIRLFRIEND: (she’s furious with his behavior) ERIC! I cannot possibility believe that you’re 18 years old and behaving like a toddler! Yes, You’re a spoiled brat! In fact, my daddy and mommy would have done this to me (slaps him in the face) if I behaved like that. GOOD BYE!
Eric’s girlfriend walked out on him, plus a couple of his buddies (friends). I showed myself out the door.
Since his dad, he wanted me to come over Friday, to winterize the pool again (because the temps were above normal). When I returned to do their pool, he still had his 914 Porsche, his girlfriend was back, he apologized to everyone. While I was working on their pool – he came from behind (startling me) to say “He was sorry for the way he behaved on his birthday.” I forgave him.
FAST FORWARD → 33 years to the future:
Eric and his long time girlfriend turned wife, married. He took over his grandfather’s business. He still had that car in his possession. His wife named the car “Baby” and he called his car “Blaze”. When I saw it, the red paint had faded, it had nearly 77k miles on it. It was his daily driver on business engagements when he had to travel within 2,000 miles.
I also learned that his tires were stolen (when he was in New York City, New York)! Which his wife chimed in, “best thing ever happened” – my reaction was a bit befuddled at that remark until she finished it off “that car needed a new set of tires anyway….” Eric was laughing, and proceeded with “Yup, she’s been nagging about it, in fact, I think she paid someone to steal the tires!” Which she said “ERIC! I’VE TOLD YOU TONS OF TIMES, I DID NOT HIRE ANYONE TO STEAL THE TIRES!”
IMAGE ACQUIRED FROM THE INTERNET – 1973 Porsche 914/4 2.0 – Red (to some people the car’s paint may look “orange” due to your graphics – but it is red)
Sir Whiskerton and the Case of the Mysterious Rustling Bush: A Tale of Curiosity, Yodeling, and One Very Confused Fish
Ah, dear reader, prepare yourself for a tale of intrigue, absurdity, and a rustling bush that sent the entire farm into a tizzy. Today’s story is one of feline wisdom, echoing kittens, and a fish that yodels like it’s auditioning for a Swiss opera. So, grab your magnifying glass (or a snack, if you’re more like Porkchop the Pig), as we dive into Sir Whiskerton and the Case of the Mysterious Rustling Bush: A Tale of Curiosity, Yodeling, and One Very Confused Fish.
The Rustling Heard ‘Round the Farm
It all began on a perfectly ordinary Tuesday—or at least, as ordinary as days get on Sir Whiskerton’s farm. The sun was shining, the chickens were clucking, and Bessie the Tie-Dye Cow was humming Tip-Toe Through the Tulips for the 47th time that morning.
Suddenly, a rustling noise erupted from a bush near the pond.
- “Ack! It’s a monster!” Doris the Hen squawked, flapping her wings like a malfunctioning windmill.
- “Monster!” Harriet echoed, diving headfirst into a pile of hay.
- “Hay!” Lillian added, fainting dramatically onto Harriet.
Even Rufus the Dog, usually brave (or at least distractible), let out a high-pitched whimper and hid behind Sir Whiskerton.
I, being the farm’s resident genius and self-appointed detective, merely flicked my tail and sighed. “Honestly, it’s probably just the wind. Or a squirrel. Or—”
Another rustle. Louder this time.
- “IT’S COMING FOR US!” Doris shrieked.
- “US!” Ditto, my ever-echoing apprentice, yowled directly into my ear.
I winced. “Ditto, my dear protégé, today’s lesson is: Always investigate anything that moves. It might be food—or fun.“
- “What if it’s dangerous?” Ditto asked, wide-eyed.
- “Then we’ll outsmart it. Or outrun it. Preferably outsmart.”
And with that, I sauntered toward the bush, Ditto trotting behind me like a tiny, furry shadow.
The Investigation Begins
As we approached the bush, the rustling grew more frantic.
- “Maybe it’s a raccoon,” I mused.
- “Raccoon!” Ditto echoed, then paused. “Wait, what’s a raccoon?”
- “A tiny bandit with a penchant for shiny things and poor life choices.”
Just then, the bush exploded—not with leaves, but with sound.
“YODEL-AY-HEE-HOO!”
Ditto and I leapt backward as three fish flopped out of the bush, their scales glinting in the sunlight. They landed in perfect synchronization, arranged like a 1920s barbershop quartet—if barbershop quartets were aquatic and prone to yodeling.
- “Fish!” Ditto gasped.
- “Yodeling fish,” I corrected, my monocle (which I don’t actually need) nearly falling off in shock.
The lead fish, a particularly pompous-looking bass, cleared his throat (do fish have throats?) and belted out:
“We are the Yodeling Fish! And we demand an audience!”
- “Audience!” Ditto repeated, then whispered, “Do we clap?”
The Yodeling Fish’s Dilemma
As it turned out, the Yodeling Fish had a problem.
- “We were practicing our new act—Yodeling in the Moonlight—when we got… lost,” the bass explained.
- “Lost!” the second fish, a trout with a flair for drama, warbled.
- “We followed the sound of Bessie’s singing,” the third fish, a goldfish with a tiny beret, added. “But then we got stuck in this bush.”
I blinked. “You followed Bessie’s singing? That’s like following a siren song into a blender.”
- “We’re artists! We go where the muse takes us!” the bass declared.
- “Also, we can’t read maps,” the trout admitted.
Ditto, ever the eager student, tugged my tail. “So… investigating the bush led us to yodeling fish?”
- “Precisely! Curiosity rewards the bold, Ditto. Sometimes with answers, sometimes with… well, this.” I gestured to the fish, who had begun harmonizing a mournful tune about the one that got away (which, given their current predicament, was ironic).
The Farm’s Hypnotic Meltdown
Meanwhile, the Yodeling Fish’s performance had an unexpected side effect.
- “YODEL-AY-HEE-HOO!” they sang again.
And just like that, the farm animals froze. Then, as if pulled by invisible strings, they began moving in sync—Doris clucking in time, Rufus wagging rhythmically, even Porkchop the Pig swaying like a ballerina mid-snack.
- “Uh oh,” Ditto said.
- “They’re hypnotized,” I muttered. “Chef Remy did warn us about the fish’s ‘hypnotic yodeling’ after that glow-in-the-dark pickle incident.”
The bass fish gasped. “Our music is too powerful! We’ve created a barnyard ballet!”
- “Ballet!” Ditto echoed, then pirouetted directly into a fence post.
The Great De-Yodelification Plan
With the farm in chaos, I took charge.
- Step 1: Convince the fish to stop yodeling. (“But it’s our passion!” the trout protested.)
- Step 2: Use Ferdinand the Duck’s opera training to counter the yodeling with a dramatic aria. (“I SHALL SING THEM INTO SANITY!” Ferdinand declared.)
- Step 3: When that failed (Ferdinand’s idea of “counter-yodeling” was just screaming Figaro repeatedly), we moved to Plan C: Bribery.
- “If you stop yodeling,” I offered, “we’ll build you a stage. In the pond.”
The fish gasped in unison. “A stage?”
- “With a tiny spotlight,” Ditto added.
- “And a curtain made of lily pads,” I finished.
The fish huddled, then nodded. “Deal.”
With one final, subdued “yodel-ay-hee-hoo,” the farm animals snapped out of their trance.
- “Why am I covered in glitter?” Doris demanded.
- “Why am I wearing a tutu?” Rufus asked, horrified.
I merely shrugged. “Art.”
The Moral of the Story
As the Yodeling Fish swam off to rehearse their next big number (Yodel Me Maybe), Ditto and I lounged on the barn roof.
- “So, lesson learned?” I asked.
- “Always investigate rustling bushes,” Ditto recited. “Because they might have yodeling fish. Or snacks.”
- “Exactly. Curiosity leads to adventure, Ditto. Sometimes it’s chaos, sometimes it’s comedy, but it’s always worth it.”
The moral, dear reader? Curiosity can lead to unexpected rewards—whether it’s a new friend, a hilarious story, or a front-row seat to the world’s weirdest aquatic concert.
A Happy Ending
The Yodeling Fish got their lily pad stage (courtesy of Barry the Beaver, who insisted on a “rustic-chic” design). The farm returned to normal, though Rufus still twitched at the word yodel. And Ditto? Well, he now investigates everything—including my tail, which he remains convinced is “hiding secrets.”
As for me, I settled into my sunbeam, satisfied. Another mystery solved, another lesson taught, and another day proving that life on the farm is never, ever boring.
And so, dear reader, we leave our heroes with the promise of new adventures, new yodels, and hopefully, no more hypnotized chickens. Until next time, may your curiosity lead you to joy, laughter, and maybe a fish in a beret.
The End.
Mid-life Crisis 2 – A woman speaks
I am sure there are elements to a mid-life crisis that vary from person to person. No two people are alike. However, having turned fifty recently and having gone through a several-months-long depression, I think I can touch on some of the commonly experienced elements. I would add that the likelihood of a mid-life crisis may be considerably higher for someone who already has depression and has had many bouts of it before.
1. The harsh reality just may hit one day that you likely have less time ahead of you than you have behind you. I think this is the beginning trigger of mid-life crisis.
2. At this point, you are likely to start reflecting on regrets and missed opportunities. This can be devastating. Often in life, we follow a pattern of doing the wrong thing for many years. This could be a bad relationship, unsatisfactory employment, or whatever. Sometimes, we wake up one day and realize we have let this go on for too long. This can lead to feeling that it is too late to change. I think this is the most difficult symptom of mid-life and can lead to self-hate.
3. You may feel the loss of your youth. This can lead to attempts to recapturing that youth. Sometimes this leads to an older person dressing younger or dating a much younger person.
4. Growing older likely brings health problems. This too can be part of mid-life crisis.
________________________________________________________
Here are some of the solutions that got me through this bleak period.
1. Yes, you do have less time ahead of you, but older age has compensating qualities. I am no longer wondering what I am going to do with my life, what I am going to do for a living, what my children will be like, whom I will marry, or where I will go to school. In all likelihood, by fifty or so, you have already experienced all these things. You can try to enjoy the “now,” instead of wondering about the future. live in the present!
2. Yes, there will be regrets and thoughts of missed opportunities. But remember, no person’s life is perfect. We all make mistakes. The person living across the road is probably no happier than you, even if he is wealthier. He just has a different set of problems. He may put on a happy front for the world and still be filled with dissatisfaction. Instead of focusing on things that didn’t go so well, focus on your achievements. Perhaps you are not thoroughly pleased with your job but are very happy with your wife and the daughter you raised. Then, be thankful for the wife and daughter! Not everyone has those things. And many people who do have them are unhappy with them.
If you have been doing something wrong for many years, consider changing that pattern now. Yes, this is difficult, but I would rather look back on twenty years of a bad relationship or unhappy employment than a whole lifetime of it! If you make an important change at fifty, you will be able to look back at seventy-five and say “Wow, I am glad I made that change. For the last twenty-five years I have been doing it right!”
3. Another thing that helped me was the realization that I would not want to live forever. I think life is short, yes. but I do not want to suffer the same worries and anxieties through eternity. It is actually soothing to me to realize the struggle will one day end. That does not mean I want to die. It simply puts me more at ease with realizing that I will have to die one day. If I make an effort to change things I have done wrong now, and can be pleased with what I did right, I can die with satisfaction when the time comes.
4. Accept that life is not always fair and that you have not always been dealt a good hand. Facing discrimination may be one example of this. There are things we can’t change. Make the most of what you have and be proud of those times when you have prevailed against difficult circumstances.
Focus on your achievements. Accept your failures and realize that you learned from them. Failure is educational and important. It may not be too late for many of your goals! These days, a fifty year old can pursue a different career or start a new relationship and likely have quite a few years to enjoy them. Take up a new hobby. Travel to Europe if that is what you always wanted. The dream isn’t dead just because you are fifty or sixty.
5. Perhaps you have a health problem now. Well, all but the few very lucky people do. Maybe you have diabetes, or have had cancer. Perhaps your eyes are fading or sex is more difficult than it used to be. At one time or another, almost everyone is going to face some sort of health issue. I try not to think of this as part of old age. I look at it another way. There are ten-year-old children out there battling life-threatening cancer. I try to see my diminished abilities and my diabetes as my own personal struggle, rather than seeing them as part of growing older. Almost everyone has some big issue to deal with, regardless of age. I always think back to a particularly funny episode of “The Golden Girls” when Sophia is telling one of her buddies that she and all her friends have ailments and that you can’t get into one of her canasta games unless you have at least two major ailments. I am paraphrasing a little, not remembering her exact words. Thinking of it this way can make you smile and deal with it.
And I will say it again…the grass is not greener on the other side. Stop comparing yourself to other people. It is unlikely that the guy across the street is any happier than you are.
Finally, if you are having a lot of trouble, seek out help. There is no shame in that. A mental health professional can help you deal with your issues and get past this difficult time.
* I am not a mental health professional.
I live in the U.S. and always hear about how affordable or free health insurance is in other countries, but I also hear how it is next to impossible to get treatments and appointments. How truthful is this in your country?
Canadian here.
On March 26, 2020 my wife drove me to hospital after days of severe fatigue and progressively oddly coloured stools, eventually purple. This was right at the beginning of the First Wave of COVID-19 here in Ontario.
I was admitted immediately. This was the last time I saw my wife in person for the next two weeks. We had never been apart for more than a couple of days since we were married over 20 years ago, it was rough. I had all manner of tests: full blood work-ups, x-rays, endoscopes, and a CT . The results were inconclusive, but my blood-iron was many times below normal and very low hemoglobin, so I was given a blood transfusion.
I had a surgeon who saw a hint of something in my abdominal CT, and she ordered a second CT, on what was meant to be my discharge day, with contrast and she found a small abnormality and booked an OR and got my consent. I had a 6.5cm GIST (cancerous tumour) removed from just below my pancreas on March 31st. I spent the next 9 days in recovery. I can’t thank my surgeon and nurses enough. It was pure hell back then. They were hugely understaffed, the hygiene routines were intense, their stress was evident and the fear of the pandemic palpable. But they did their jobs passionately. They are heroes, each and every one of them. I have no idea who they may be, I only ever saw their eyes and tufts of hair.
Anyway, I was discharged on April 9th. I’ve had annual; check-ups, CTs, ultrasounds, endoscopes, consults with my surgeon and oncologist for the last 5 years. All I’ve had to pay for out of pocket is parking in all that time.
I can’t begin to calculate how much I would have had to pay for similar treatment and care in the US, nor how long I would have waited for that care down there. I imagine I’d be bankrupt or dead from the first-hand horror stories I’ve read about US healthcare.
Whatever negative things you’re hearing about Universal Healthcare down there, you’re being lied to so that CEOs and insurance adjusters can keep their exorbitant paycheques.
No country with UH has gone back to a for-profit system, and the US is the only developed nation without it. Why might that be?
EPISODE 485 – THE DATING PROFILES OF MODERN WOMEN!
Is it possible for one country to impose an embargo or tariff on another country without their permission? For example, could China place an embargo on Taiwan?
First of all, Taiwan is a province of China. Taiwan is not a country recognised by UN.
But mainland China & Taiwan have independent rules/laws to govern their places.
Back to the question.
China did once ban Taiwanese agricultural products eg pineapple & some fish.
China found bugs or fungus on Taiwanese agricultural products. China asked Taiwan 7 times to improve the situation but got ignored by Taiwanese DPP (the one who wants independence). DPP did not bother to tell their farmers. Finally China banned import from Taiwan.
Of course, Taiwan DPP blamed it on China for being discriminatory. Then Taiwan sold it cheap to other places including Hongkong, Singapore, Canada & more.
Singapore opened few pineapples. The core of pineapples was greyish black, meaning there was fungus. Same for those sold in Hongkong or elsewhere like Canada. That is, China was not discriminatory.
The same happened to Taiwanese fish. Got worms or insects. Again, after many warnings but got ignored by DPP, China banned it.
I do not know if Taiwan has improved the situation & if China has lifted the ban as of 2025.
When the questioner asked this question, s/he may wonder if USA can unilaterally tariff or embargo another country/place’s products. WTO rules say NO.
In fact, USA always gives excuses to ban this & that eg. threaten US security, US being ripped off etc etc.
The difference of a mafia & a genuine business trade partner like China is that a mafia makes allegation without proof. Whereas China’s allegation can be proved by anybody who opened a pineapple to see it with their own eyes.
China also banned Japan’s seafood after Japan’s nuclear plant was damaged by earthquake & Japan dumped radioactive materials into Pacific ocean. China wanted to take an independent sample to test their dumped water. But Japan refused. So China banned Japanese seafood.
These days I heard Japan finally agreed to let China take an independent sample. I have not heard anything since then.
Your allegation must be genuine & can be proved by a 3rd party.
Pictures
What is something that someone said to you during your grieving that stuck with you?
My only son, Jason, was in college when he died in a drowning accident. Sometime after that a family came to my door with their young son, around 9 or 10. I had never met them before.
They said they wanted to talk to me about Jason. We sat in the living room with some refreshments. The father told me the story: Jason had met the family at an event in our small town a couple of years before and had befriended the young boy.
They bonded over baseball. Jason explained that he had an extensive baseball card collection and offered to show it to him.
The boy lit up at the offer and sometime later they parted. Sitting in my living room, the boy’s father told me he had never expected to see Jason again, but one day he showed up at their house with several notebooks of baseball cards and the boy and my son spent a couple of hours with their heads together in a blissful state.
The father, in tears, told me he had never before seen a young man who exhibited such an outpouring of generosity that way towards his boy. The family wanted me to know what a fine son I had.
Jason had never mentioned that he kept a promise to a young boy. But there was that summer day when Jason came charging into the house with nary a word, ran up the stairs, ran down again with his arms filled with baseball card notebooks. That had to be the day.
IfThenElse: The Husband’s Companion
Written in response to: “Start or end your story with a character making a cup of tea for themself or someone else.“
Tabin Brooks
“I organised for tonight. I thought you’d be pleased.” Marcus said in a deeply hurt tone, but Harold was still too angry to soften his own tone.
“I can’t believe you’d take such a step without even consulting me first. The Companions are unique to each person’s needs – what on earth did you say our needs were? I’m not having my workplace gossiping about it. I just hope you didn’t pick something stupid.” The acrid venom dripped off Harold’s tongue as he criticised his husband. “And for God’s sake, get that bloody kettle!”
Marcus rose to take the kettle off the stove, but as he did so, he turned back to Harold, eyes flashing, fingers raised in aggressive air quotes. “Of course I didn’t put ‘anything stupid’ in. You and your precious reputation. You leave me at home all day to keep the house for you, you’re always out creating these Companions and then you yell at me when I’m proud of your work and willing to invite one into our home. Maybe I should have made the need fulfilment ’emotional punching bag’ – that would really get them talking!”
Harold stopped for a moment, wanting to continue the argument but sensing that he had pushed Marcus too far. Marcus continued. “For your information, I simply put in domestic companionship and help. It would be nice to have some company while you’re out at work all day. What is there to be angry about?”
Harold fumed silently for a moment until their argument was interrupted by a ring at the doorbell. Harold groaned and sighed, mentally pulling himself together, as Marcus went to open the door.
“Honey, it’s our delivery!” called Marcus back into the house from the door, a fake cheerfulness belying the heat the two had just exchanged. Harold took a deep breath and followed him to the door.
The two delivery drivers stood at the door, with a lithe young man between them. From experience, Harold knew this was their new companion, though there were no wires or cables to give it away. Each one was modelled after the humans they worked with, the only telltale sign the lack of flaws on their artificial skin. Even their touch was warm and lifelike, which Harold briefly shuddered at as their new companion shook his hand.
“Hello, my name is Dan. I’m your new companion. These are my escorts, James and Lawrence.” said the new Companion.
The two husbands looked at each other as if to say the discussion was not over. The man identified as James stepped forward.
“Good evening sirs, may I present Dan, our latest model of The Companion. Dan has all the capabilities a human has, with a digital brain. He has grafted skin and hair, and is programmed with his own personality, to give you an extra sense of realness,” said James. Harold, who had been working on this model in the back end of the company, cringed, inwardly thinking of the feedback he would give on the introduction script on Monday.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Dan, please, come in. James, Lawrence, I don’t think we’ll need your assistance. I’m very familiar with Dan’s model line and I’m happy to take responsibility from here,” said Harold through barely gritted teeth. He could feel his palms beginning to sweat and the fury rising up inside him again.
Marcus, sensing Harold’s frustration, smoothly took over the conversation with James and Lawrence. “Yes, thank-you – I’m sure Harold will be able to take it from here. He’s been working on this line for the last few months, so we know who to contact if we need any assistance.”
The two men were rushed out the door, Marcus profusely thanking them for their assistance. Dan looked at the two husbands with visible confusion.
“Why did you not want the induction? Am I safe here?” asked Dan.
Harold felt a cold wash of memory flow over him. The “Am I safe” routine was there for a reason. He took a deep breath and answered. “Dan, you are safe here. The tension you’re picking up on -” and with this he checked to see that the door had closed firmly behind the two delivery drivers. “The tension is simply because my husband and I were having an argument before you arrived. There is nothing to fear here, however you may have to bear with us while we resolve the tension.”
The initial anger and fury that had fuelled Harold’s initial outburst was subsiding as the cold chill of responsibility settled over him. He of all people knew what it meant to have invited a companion into their home. Suddenly a flash of jealousy rose within him. He took a few more deep breaths as Marcus came to stand beside him.
“I see,” said Dan. “Would you like me to call you Marcus and Harold, or something else?”
It was a standard set of questions, one that Harold’s team had had very little to do with. His role had been in programming the mental health and sanity subroutines. They were now at version three of the Companion models, and most of the major kinks had been ironed out. The early models had been prone to depression when left at home or expected to do many hours of work, and this created unpredictable effects in their behaviour, such as emotional outbursts. Ultimately, Harold knew that appreciation and recognition were the best ways to prevent relapses of disorder in the Companions.
“Just Marcus and Harold is fine. Or you can call us friends,” said Harold carefully.
“Would you – I mean can you – would you like a cup of tea?” asked Marcus
“A cup of tea would be lovely, my friends,” said Dan.
“I’ll go put the kettle on,” said Harold.
Do you think that doctors who work in emergency rooms (ERs) are better than those who work in private practice hospitals or clinics? Why or why not?
Working with a bunch of ER Docs I have to say, maybe, but no.
ER Docs really have to be jacks of all trades, masters at none. Not quite true (since emergency/trauma medicine is a trade all its own) but close enough.
They need to know enough to keep you alive until you can be discharged or moved on to the next service.
Let’s say you come into the ER with severe trauma to an arm. They’ll be able to stop the bleeding, possibly make sure that you don’t lose the limb, etc. If there’s a minor dislocation, they might be able to relocated it. But, if you need vascular surgery, they’ll send you off to a specialist.
You mention specifically private practice and clinics. Again, it would depend on their focus.
If I’m dying of cancer, I want a trained oncologist. If I’ve got seizures, I want a specialist to try to control the problem. But if I’m in a trauma, even if caused by the others, I want an ER doc.
As one of my favorite attendings has said (and I’ve repeated here) Specialists play to win. ER Docs play not to lose. Very different focus. And tie this to what IS said above, Specialist play to win in their specialty. They’re not even in the game outside their specialty. An ER Doc, plays not to lose in every specialty. Or close to it.
That said, considering I’m heading to PA school,. my focus will be emergency medicine because for me, that’s where it’s at.
A Mid-Life Crisis – 3 – Man’s opinion
The mid-life crisis is often used as joke. Particularly when men are involved. It used to be considered to be a uniquely male thing, but in the past decades it’s become more inclusive, but for now let’s deal with the classic and still most common form: the guy in his 40’s and 50’s
Here are a few things to understand about the mid-life crisis. The first thing to understand is that someone is in crisis. It’s not a joke. They’re suffering. The rates of suicide go up. It’s no fun.
It’s often portrayed as “Guy doesn’t want to admit he’s getting older and act his age.” That’s not really a fair description. Here’s the thing. Men are put under a lot of pressure, particularly in their 20’s and 30’s.
Ladies have traditionally had to deal with being compared to this.
Unrealistic body image, attainable only by a few. Not fair. I get that.
Here’s what men find themselves compared to.
No matter how hard you work, you’ll probably never be as buff as the first guy (who apparently died as a result of hit attempts to get buffer[1]), successful as the second guy (Who’s clearly made moral compromises to be so successful), as famous as the next guy, or as well hung as the last guy (and yes, women will compare and comment. If not to you, then to other guys about you. I know. I’ve heard the comments).
With that kind of pressure, your only hope is to pick one or two and focus on that (obviously the last one you don’t have that much control over), but the pressures will invariably mount about the other things. I didn’t even add the pressures you get about finding a girlfriend, getting married, having kids. Those are by far the largest, and the ones that most men feel the strongest (both internally and externally).
Then you hit your 40’s and your youth is waning, and you come to a realization. You didn’t actually have a youth. You were so busy trying to meet the demands of the pressure on you that missed it entirely. You’re not trying to recapture your lost youth. You’re trying to have some tiny taste of what youth is supposed to be. And it’s an uphill battle because you’re not young, and people are laughing at you, and the nature of youth has changed, and you don’t really know how many years you have left.
This is worst with the high achievers and prodigies. They’re the ones that everyone was praising when they were young, and encouraging to keep focusing on non-youth activities. They worked long days trying to achieve something, only to discover that everybody becomes a middle-aged guy who’s taken for granted. And they’re definitely not supposed to be having fun.
Think about it. Think of any activity someone might do purely for fun: having sex, motorcycles, buying a boat to go sailing, playing video games, D&D… the list goes on. Now post a picture of a middle aged guy doing it on social media. Someone is going to make a comment that uses the words “man-child” or “not acting his age.” Middle-aged men are treated like the supporting characters in everyone else’s life. We’re not allowed to be having our own adventures, making or own fun, or doing anything that is for us.
Is it any wonder that the highest rates of suicide are among middle aged men? Higher than the teen-aged girls that get all the attention. What a joke they are. Let’s all have a laugh.
[1] Minor correction: He had an injury that put him into “unbuff” status, and then apparently died is his attempts to regain it.
Why do Japanese people dislike Koreans and Chinese people, but like Taiwanese people?
After Japan invaded Taiwan, it carried out massacres and enforced assimilation education.
In 1895, Taiwan’s population was no less than 3.2 million, but by 1896, it had dropped to just 2.57 million.
That means, in just one year, 700,000 Taiwanese people were massacred.
The image above depicts Japan’s brutal massacre in Taiwan.
The will to resist vanished completely in the face of massacres targeting civilians, followed by over 50 years of assimilation education.
This led Taiwan to develop a peculiar “fondness” for Japan.
This is actually quite understandable. For example, in Mongolia, Stalin brutally massacred any Mongolian population related to China, executing them in large groups.
Yet today, Mongolia is extremely anti-China.
This is a similar case.
“Where Is The GOLD?” – Elon Musk & Trump Visit Fort Knox
How long will it take for new companies to build in the US creating good jobs and bringing America back from foreign dependent markets after the tariffs take effect?
Never.
In fact, the Trumpie Tariff Tantrums have regressed the attempts to bring manufacturing back to the US.
More of 47 keeping his campaign promises to reverse Biden Era programs. See, he can keep a promise.
Even if businesses felt “safe” enough to invest in refurbishing the large number of empty/abandoned factories in the US, it would still take years to accomplish.
Yeah, there are a ton of empty factories all over the US in various stages of disrepair. My area has several that could be refurbished, but are no where close to being able to jump into production.
Hell, thanks to the tariff tantrums, the few that were being looked at for refurbishment to bring manufacturing back under Biden, have reversed course. Now no one is looking to do anything about those abandoned properties other than maybe tear them down. But only if there is any profit to be made in tearing them down.
Ironically, one of the local factories that geared up and started under Biden, for battery production for EVs and other tech needs just laid off some people. The reversal of Biden programs has that factory debating its ability to function under the tariffs. Thanks 47!
The economy of any country is global now. No one country is 100% “self sufficient”. They all rely on either raw materials from another country, labor from another country, manufacturing from another country, tech from another country, or financial investment from another county. America’s economy relies on all of those.
America lacks the raw materials, manufacturing ability, labor force, tech, and financial ability to become 100% self sufficient on the scale needed to keep the population housed, fed, medically cared for, or functional.
The Greatest Of All Great Men
Written in response to: “Write a story in which someone time-travels 25 years or more into the past.“
W B
Of course, travelling back 25 days to invest in profitable shares wasn’t the most creative use of time travel, but he had to test the contraption somehow. Besides, boosting his net worth by a cool $178bn wouldn’t hurt. The divorce had been crippling but once again he was ready assault the summit of the Forbes list. From there, endless possibilities…
With a childlike zeal, he entered the numbers and took one last look around the room. Life would never be the same. The world would never be the same. If only Cassie had understood how important this work was…. No, best not go there.
The contraption vibrated and the room shook. “Preparing for: minus 25 years,” the AI announced. Charles leaned back in his chair and prepared to pop back into the past. Except… 25 years? Years!? Before he could even process the mistake, the machine swallowed him up in a ball of cosmic light. Shit
He reappeared in the year 2000. In truth the basement hadn’t changed much. It was tempting to get up and look around, but Charles had read enough science fiction to know it wasn’t prudent. A flap of a butterfly’s wing etcetera….
“What the fuck?” Charles spun round to be confronted by a large, gangly youth in a sleeveless neon hoodie and three-quarter jeans. Neither spoke. The young man had dropped his cereal in shock and a stream of milk was now meandering towards Charles’ favourite slippers. Shit
He’d imagined this scenario many times, but the reality was far more daunting. Still, he took a deep breath, climbed out the capsule and began intruding himself to… himself. He kept it brief, including only the highlights: founding QuantAI, winning Times’ Person of the Year, and eventually solving time travel, among other things.
As he reeled off his achievements, Charles realised just how much he’d accomplished this past 20 years. Seeing the younger man’s eyes widen was especially gratifying, as was the strange expression on his face once the monologue was over – somewhere between curiosity and awe. I truly am the greatest of all great men.
—————————————————————-
Charlie stared incredulously at the man before him. Why do I look so old? The man’s skin was pasty and grey, in sharp contrast to his hair which was dyed jet black. At 48 years, he resembled a cadaver in a wig. As he spoke, spittle flew from thin, pink lips and his bony, white hands twitched excitedly. His electric blue eyes were alight with manic energy yet behind them lay a queer emptiness.
Gradually and then suddenly, Charlie realised this was actually happening. Initially, he thought there might’ve been something in the joint he’d been smoking but no. This was, unmistakably, himself. The older man was clearly very proud of his life story, so Charlie listened politely as the words washed over him.
“Anyway, that’s us,” the older man’s left eye seemed to spasm briefly. Is he trying to wink at me? “I assume you have plenty of questions?”
Charlie was stumped. Of course, he knew what he wanted to ask but he was far too afraid of the answer. Still, he could ask anything. Endless possibilities…
“How’re Leeds doing?”
“Top of the league.”
“Top of the Prem!” Charlie beamed.
“No, the Championship.” Shit.
“What else…. Kanye’s still our favourite artist, right?”
“Ah now that’s complicated.” For some reason the older man glanced at the Star of David hanging above the doorway. “Just enjoy the music while you can.”
“Okay, sounds mysterious,” mused Charlie. Time to think bigger.
“Have we made it to Mars yet?”
“Sadly not. I have a friend across the pond who’s working on it…. though he seems a bit distracted right now”
“Sure, sure…” Should I ask the question? No, no it’ll just ruin things. “How about the environment? Have we made any progress there?”
The older man snorted. “Not quite… although we can’t use plastic straws anymore.”
Charlie didn’t know what to make of that. “What have they done to sort out global warming?”
He shook his head, “Very little…”
“But surely, with Al Gore coming into the Whitehouse once the recount’s finished…”
The older man laughed. “Actually, the Supreme Court… never mind.” He stared pensively into Charlie’s eyes and for the first time he seemed human. “I forgot how idealistic we used to be…”
He tore his eyes away from those of his former self. “Anyway, I should get going. You have a big future ahead of you mate,” he finished, somewhat sadly, and turned away. Suddenly Charlie felt guilty. Clearly the older man wanted him to show an interest in his life; the businesses he’d founded, the concepts he’d realised, the accolades he’d achieved.
But, truthfully, Charlie didn’t care. No doubt he would in time, the man before him was proof of that. Now, though, there was only one question he wanted to ask. For the first time since the old man from the future appeared in his living room, Charlie was nervous.
“One last thing,” he began tentatively. “As you know… as you’ll remember… I met this girl last year and we’ve been dating ever since…” the words came tumbling out before he could stop them. He recalled the awkward first meeting outside the College Master’s office, the first kiss punctuated with fits of laughter as they stumbled through torrential rain, the trip to Paris where they missed the reservation and spent all night eating ice cream beneath the Eiffel Tower.
When the older man turned around, he seemed smaller. Shrunken. The empty, electric blue eyes now glistening with tears. Oblivious, Charlie continued to burble about the love of his life.
“Anyway, I just want to know… well… please, please, please tell me we’re married to Cassie.”
What is the saddest case you have had as a doctor?
It was in the wee hours of the morning that I was called to the Operating Room to assist in an urgent Cesarean section. I was a medical student and of course was thrilled to be invited to join the team, however I was a bit puzzled; “Why on earth would they want me to assist?” Obstetrics (OB) was only my second clinical rotation and I was very green and new to the team. This was to be my first C-Section. I quickly discovered why I, the lowly medical student, was invited: The baby had deformities that were inconsistent with life and had ZERO chance of long-term survival, so what harm could the student do?
While we were scrubbing (our hands) the senior resident quickly gave me the heartbreaking “low-down” on the patient: 14 year old, incest victim, didn’t know she was pregnant until she was transported by EMS to the hospital with severe abdominal pain. An ultrasound had determined that a cluster of very rare fetal anomalies were present. The baby, at an estimated 28 weeks gestational age had a Cloverleaf Skull malformation associated with severe facial, skull, skeletal anomalies and profound mental retardation, all inconsistent with life. Despite profound prematurity, the baby’s head was so grotesquely enlarged and misshapen that it would not be able to pass through the birth canal (vagina).
So there we were; with an awake patient, under spinal anesthesia, delivering via C-section, a baby doomed to die, to a first time mother, still child herself, who was thrilled by the idea of becoming a mother and in complete denial about the reality of what she was soon to be confronted with. For me, it was surreal to say the least.
I, with a lot of guidance, performed the Cesarean-Section. I eased the warm, liquid, squiggly, slippery, living being from it’s former home, the uterus. This living being for all intents and purposes appeared to be an alien species, with her hugely malformed cranium and her large, lidless eyes, which were a vivid, hypnotic blue like the Mediterranean Sea. They were the most beautiful, mesmerizing and tragic thing I’d ever seen. She didn’t enter the world with an angry bellow as I later learned to expect from healthy newborns, no, she merely uttered a feeble croak, a“MEEP” and seemed to peer knowingly at me. I almost dropped her. I did not expect Life, as transient or tenuous as it may be!
I passed the infant off to the baby nurse who expertly swaddled her in such a way that the misshapen head, fingers and toes would be less obvious. Moments later, the bundle was deposited into the waiting arms of her mother. While we were closing the surgical wounds, I asked the new Mother what she would name her. She bravely acknowledged that the baby would not live long, and graciously, unsullied by the horrors of her young life, proclaimed,“Angel, ANGEL is her name.”
Wild Alaska Salmon Teriyaki Bowl
This flavorful bowl recipe features bright ingredients and cooked wild Alaska salmon and is sure to be a family favorite.
Ingredients
Bowl
- 1/2 cup sushi rice
- 2 tablespoons rice vinegar
- 2 wild Alaska salmon fillets
- 1 avocado
- 1/2 cucumber
- 1/2 mango
- 8 radishes
- 1 carrot
- 1 teaspoon sesame seeds
Sauce
- 2 tablespoons sesame oil
- 2 tablespoons teriyaki sauce
- 2 tablespoons rice vinegar
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Instructions
Bowl
- Cook sushi rice according to package directions.
- Cut the Alaska salmon into bite-size pieces.
- Heat olive oil in a pan over medium-high heat. Add the salmon and sear on all sides until golden-brown color and cooked throughout – about 6 to 8 minutes.
- Dice avocado, cucumber and mango.
- Slice carrot and radish.
Sauce
- Whisk together the sesame oil, teriyaki sauce and rice vinegar.
Assembly
- Arrange the Alaska salmon bowl by mixing the rice with the rice vinegar and add it to the bowl.
- Add the carrot, cucumber, mango, avocado, radishes and finally the wild Alaska salmon.
- Top with the sauce and sesame seeds.
China defeating Japan – Is it true that, in the war of 1937-1945, China defeated Japan without any help from any other country?
The USA and most western nations were happily providing Japan, oil, iron and explosives to make weapons. The USA in particular was supplying them all the way up to 1941 until Pearl harbor.
China fought alone from 1931, Japan captured the ports meaning China didn’t get much supply from the outside at all. Weapons were in such short supply Chinese soldiers had to use swords and farming tools to fight the Japanese.
Westerners love the old the USA saved China from Japan.
No, the Imperial Japanese army was about 6 million strong in WW2.
2.5 million of those were in China. A further 2.5 million were on the home islands of Japan meaning the Americans faced at most 1 million Japanese.
It’s almost exactly the the USA saved the USSR! Without lend lease blah blah.
Had Japan note eaten two nuclear bombs WW2 would have lasted longer but eventually China would have worn down the Japanese.
There’s an old unfunny joke about it
The two opposing armies have met in a big battle. Three hundred thousand Chinese die, but just 50,000 Japanese. Then another big battle takes place. There, 250,000 more Chinese die, and 75,000 Japanese. Pretty soon, the joke goes, “no more Japanese.” The seemingly inexhaustible demographic reserves of China,