People can be strange.
And when you travel all over the country, you end up in meeting a lot of them.
Today I have a story for you all.
We moved to Marion, Indiana, and lived in a kind of run down mobile home park.
The strange guy in the mobile home behind us, constantly trying to connect with us through the back door.He would never come to the front door. Always the hidden back door. In the back.
First a cable,yeah. He wanted to splice my cable wire and share it with us. I said no, and he was pretty strange about it.
He wanted to share, but not to pay. But it was more than that. I’m not gonna connect with some hillbilly hick with a mullet in a run-down trailer park.
And then he kept on visiting my wife. She would shoo him away, but… damn!
Then, he wanted me to babysit his kid…
It was getting to be a pain in the ass.
So the last time he visited me, I answered the door with my AK47. And guys… you know it.
He never bothered me again.
Indeed, it’s the North Korean strategy. The threat of retaliation. Now the Chinese strategy….
Ah yes.
Today…
I Visited China’s Next Gen Car Factory – America Far Behind!
Back in the day, Stallone was a struggling actor in every definition. At some point, he got so broke that he stole his wife’s jewelry and sold it. Things got so bad that he even ended up homeless. Yes, he slept at the New York bus station for 3 days. Unable to pay rent or afford food. His lowest point came when he tried to sell his dog at the liquor store to any stranger. He didn’t have money to feed the dog anymore. He sold it at $25 only. He says he walked away crying.
Two weeks later, he saw a boxing match between Mohammed Ali and Chuck Wepner and that match gave him the inspiration to write the script for the famous movie, ROCKY. He wrote the script for 20 hours! He tried to sell it and got an offer for $125,000 for the script. But he had just ONE REQUEST. He wanted to STAR in the movie. He wanted to be the MAIN ACTOR, Rocky himself. But the studio said NO. They wanted a REAL STAR.
They said he “Looked funny and talked funny”. He left with his script. A few weeks later, the studio offered him $250,000 for the script. He refused. They even offered $350,000. He still refused. They wanted his movie, but NOT him. He said NO. He had to be IN THAT MOVIE.
After a while, the studio agreed, gave him $35,000 for the script and let him star in it! The rest is history! The movie won Best Picture, Best Directing and Best Film Editing at the prestigious Oscar Awards. He was even nominated for BEST ACTOR! The Movie ROCKY was even inducted into the American National Film Registry as one of the greatest movies ever!
NO ONE KNOWS WHAT YOU ARE CAPABLE OF EXCEPT YOURSELF! People will judge you by HOW you look. And by WHAT you have. But Fight on! Fight for Your place in history. Fight for your glory. NEVER EVER GIVE UP!
Even if it means selling all your clothes and sleeping with the dogs, IT’S OKAY! But AS LONG AS YOU ARE STILL ALIVE, Your STORY IS NOT OVER.
Keep Up the Fight. Keep your dreams and hope alive. Go get it !!!
Green Beans and Potatoes
Equipment
- Pressure Cooker
Ingredients
- 2 pounds green beans, cut into pieces
- 2 pounds potatoes, unpeeled, diced
- 1 large onion, diced
- 2 large pieces bacon, sliced
- 2 cans vegetable broth
- 1 can cream of mushroom soup
- Salt and pepper to taste
Instructions
- Prepare the green beans and potatoes.
- Cook the bacon until it begins to get crispy and then add the onions; cook until they are tender.
- Mix the vegetable broth, soup and salt and pepper.
- Add all ingredients to an 8 quart electric pressure cooker and stir it well. Start pressure on high for 30 minutes, then turn it to low for another 30 minutes.
Why are Europeans not as fat as Americans are when Europeans eat white bread and pasta and butter all the time?
I went to Europe early this year. Paris, Rome and Barcelona. I asked my wife “Where do they hide the fat people?” Things I noticed:
- I did not see anyplace that was “all you can eat”.
- The food I bought in the street was fresh and delicious. The strawberries were the size of grapes but so delicious and were meant to be eaten right away meaning no steroids or preservatives. I had some Brie cheese and I could taste the cow.
- Food portions were small but I never left a table hungry.
- My Fitbit said I met my goals as far as number of steps taken: at least 10,000 per day. In Positano, Italy it said I climbed the equivalent of 60 floors. In the US, I barely make 3,000.
- Refrigerators are small. You don’t buy two weeks worth of food full of preservatives so they still look good after two weeks. We bought everything we needed to eat each day.
- You walk everywhere. Burn those calories.
I Moved to Europe — Here Are the American Lies I’ll Never Believe Again
What kinds of things is the German Chamber of Commerce in East China likely to do to pressure the Chinese government to give German companies a fair business environment?
China does not have discriminatory regulations against foreign investment, and German companies have always enjoyed a fair business environment in China.
China’s business environment has been actively improving. On the contrary, Germany’s business environment has been deteriorating since the Green Party came to power and the Russia-Ukraine war began.
German companies in their home country face difficulties from various Ngo’s, especially ‘environmental organisations’ and ‘animal protection organisations’. The trade unions organize strikes every few days, making it impossible for companies to carry out normal production and operations.
According to a survey by Kantar Public, a well-known market research organization:
26% of German companies are considering moving production capacity abroad. 40% of companies have made specific plans to move to Asia, and many companies hope to establish production capacity in China.
I remember when
Written in response to: “Write a story with a character or the narrator saying “I remember…”“
Andrew Parrock
Here, come and sit, eat your dinner and I’ll tell you more about that time. Comfortable? Good, now eat your vegetable. The people in those days ate, such huge amounts, but then they had huge appetites to match. Food was everywhere; so many shops selling all kinds of food from all over the world, things you’ve never even seen, let alone tasted. The constant adverts on the TV (I’ll tell you about that, but that will also have to be some other time), you could not get away from it. So they ate, and they ate. Then they ate some more. Little one, four of you would not have made one of them – but don’t let that put you off your dinner. Please do try one bite, it’s your favourite.
As I was saying, they ate and they ate and they got bigger and bigger and bigger. As they got older, they continued to get bigger. Some got so large they could not walk. Could not even get out of their bed. They were trapped inside their home. It was so sad. No matter how hard they tried, no matter how much they wanted to stop, they could not – no, dearest one, it is safe for you to take another bite. Go on, you know you like it. You are not like them. There, that was easy wasn’t it! You are so good, let me give you a hug, I’m so proud of you, I know how difficult that was. Could you manage another bite? Yes? Well done! Now, what was your question? What happened to them when they kept on eating? A good question, little one. It is not a happy story, no happy ending like in Snow White. I’m sad to say that they could not stop no matter how hard they tried, it was just too easy to get the food which was all around them, in magazines and on the TV. The trouble was, it was the wrong kind of food. I don’t know how that could be, but it was. The more they ate, the more they wanted and the bigger they got. The got so big they just died….
No, little one, you won’t die if you have another bite. Just the opposite really. You, my dearest darling, must eat, so here, try another bite. What’s that? You’re not hungry? But it’s your favourite. Maybe a little rest and you can try again…what’s that? You want to know what happened next?
Well….OK. I’ll tell you some more but only if you promise to take a few more bites. That’s a promise? You are so good. OK. Well, things got so bad, more and more were eating and eating, more and more were getting ill and dying. Then one day some clever person found an answer. What was it? Another bite and I’ll tell you. Well done! That’s very good indeed. Well, this clever person invented a pill. They gave it to the people who could not stop eating and, as if by magic, ta-da!!! They stopped eating. They started to get thinner, were able to get out of their beds, walk out of their homes. They had been freed by this clever inventor! How did it work? I don’t really know. I think it stopped them wanting to eat. What’s that little one? A bit like you, you say? Hmmmm….you are very clever. A lot like you, I think. There, can you manage another bite? I don’t want you to fade away like… like…
I’m not crying little one, no, just something in my eyes dearest, nothing to worry about. Fade away like what? Did I say that? I can see that there’s no fooling you. Perhaps I am crying. Just give me a moment to blow my nose and dry my eyes.
There, that’s better. I don’t want you to fade away like they did. After they’d taken the pill. You see, once they’d taken it, they stopped eating. At first people thought it was a good thing, and it was. They got thinner. And thinner. And thinner. They got so thin they got weaker and weaker. They could not walk. Could not get out of bed…Yes, you’ve got it, you understand. You are so clever. The streets started to empty. The noise died, the stink went away. It was quite nice at first. Space to walk in a straight line, quiet to think. Yes, my dearest little one. At first it was good. No-one saw it for what it really was.
What’s that? Why am I crying again dearest? It’s just that you are so thin. My little one. If you don’t eat you’ll end up like the ones who could not stop eating. Then you’ll fade away, and we would not want that to happen would we? No, that’s right, we wouldn’t. Why am I crying again little one? It’s because you are so thin and getting thinner. You see, the stuff in the pill, that took away the people’s appetite, well it took away a lot more. Then it got into the water, oh, I don’t know how, but it did. And everyone started to fade away.
I had to do something, so I grew this vegetable for you with water from the rain, so you won’t lose your appetite for life, like all those other people did. So have another bite dearest, please.
Please have another bite.
Some important hacks I’ve learned during my life:
- Always carry a pen with you, especially when travelling (you know that sometimes you will have no other option)
- When you see an animal cross the road, make it a point to stop, look, and wait. There will probably be a few more animals in the sequel
- Use your foot to prevent your phone from falling if you knock it over (never try this with the Nokia 3310, you can seriously injure yourself
- As you gather with family, discuss common scams and life hacks that you know but don’t
- If a guest or host asks you if you’d like to take any leftover food they’ve made home, always say yes. It will probably make them very happy.
- Answer the door with a coat. If it’s someone you like, you can say they just got home. If it’s someone you don’t like, you can say you were leaving.
- If you’re selling something on eBay, make a free delivery and add the cost of delivery to the main price.
- When sending a long string of numbers to someone, divide it into groups of three/four digits separated by spaces, so that it is more readable.
- If you solve a problem that you yourself posted on a forum, add the solution so that others can use it for the same problem.
- Don’t take other people’s business more seriously than they do themselves.
- If someone is introducing you to a song they really like, don’t talk during the song unless it’s something about the song or something urgent. This song can mean a lot to the other person, and talking in the middle of the song shows that you think your ideas are more important than the person’s.
- Pay attention to the smell of your home when you return from travel – it’s how it smells to guests all the time, you’ve just gotten used to it.
- When offering your condolences to someone grieving, focus on the PERSON and avoid talking too much about who they have lost
Shorpy
A Real-Life Nightmare
I think this might be the scariest thing anyone can imagine.
After being sick for 12 days with a strange illness, Alexander the Great died in Babylon in 323 B.C. He was only 32 years old.
But something very strange happened — his body didn’t start to rot or break down for six whole days.
Back then, many people believed this meant he was a god.
But now, one expert thinks there’s a much more frightening reason for this. He believes that Alexander might not have been fully dead yet.
Over the years, many people have tried to guess how Alexander died. But this new idea says that he may have had a disease called Guillain-Barré syndrome, which is very rare.
This illness can make someone completely paralyzed — they can’t move or speak — and it can make their breathing so slow that it’s hard to even notice. If no one checked his pulse, they might have thought he was dead when he wasn’t.
That means he might have been declared dead six days too early.
Maybe he was even buried alive.
Maybe he was awake, hearing and seeing everything, but couldn’t move or say a word. Like being trapped in your body.
I can’t think of anything more terrifying.
US culture is TOXIC af (but I didn’t see it until i left)
What do you make of Xia Baolong’s remarks calling the US a “sinister manipulator” and saying that the US cannot tolerate Hong Kong’s stability and prosperity?
It’s true. The U.S. sponsored the 2019 color revolution in an attempt to destabilize Hong Kong. They wanted to use Hong Kong as a pawn to destabilize the mainland in order to sabotage China on the world stage because they see China as a threat to their status as number one. The U.S. can no longer compete fairly so they resort to Tonya Harding tactics. Aka, they try to hire men in the shadows to break the legs of their perceived opponents.
However, their tactic didn’t work. Hong Kong is stronger than the U.S. imagined and China is stronger than they ever imagined. Beijing government as well as Hong Kong police are also capable of a restraint and self-control that the U.S. can’t begin to understand. Now that Hong Kong has gotten back on track and is working on healing and becoming stronger, the US is jealous and angry their plan didn’t work. And if their silly tariff war can cause trouble in Hong Kong incidentally then they’re happy about that.
They forget that Hong Kong is made up of strong and resilient people. They forget that Chinese blood flows in their veins and that the Chinese are a resilient people who have not fallen and will not fall. 5000 years they’ve been triumphant and no 250 year old punk kid is going to get the better of them. I have confidence in the people of Hong Kong. They are strong. The U.S. can rage like a storm but they are no stranger to the typhoons.
万里长城永不倒，千里黄河水滔滔。
(The Great Wall will never fall, and the Yellow River for thousands of miles is surging.)
Bionic Roots
Written in response to: “Write a story from the POV of a now-defunct piece of technology.“
Beetle Bopjun
And I’m right all the time; I know everything!
. . .
Everything but where I am.
When I feel strong, I hoist myself up, my skin rubs against the cold metal of what I lay on. I hear the propellers get louder as I sit up. My head hurts, cold and sturdy. When I look around, my eyes flutter, I cannot control them. I tried hitting myself on the head—a loud ringing appearing and disappearing—until it stopped hurting, taking the ringing with it.
My head creaks as I look around at my surroundings. I’m in a grey room, a table with tools stands next to me. I could see that I sat on a metal table, my legs were white against silver; I just realized I cannot feel my legs. My legs are made of Mussacie, a ‘miracle’ metal that can withstand high heats, my creator discovered; “discovered” being him hardly paying miners in the McCarthy Mines.
I’m programmed to be good, to love everyone equally . . . but it isn’t real love, it’s a script written by a man who wanted to give a metal piece of junk a brain, just to make it a slave. If you made it, it technically isn’t a slave, right? Like a parent that thinks, because it is their kid, that makes it their property.
But no, I don’t believe that. Once that child is born, the only thing that owns it is God—nature. I have a lot of love for human children—feeble little things that cannot even take care of themselves, how could you hate them? I see kids the same way I see animals. Innocent creatures that need delicate care and love.
That was Malcolm’s problem, he didn’t treat me like everyone else with a conscience. You’re more of a fridge than a human, he once said while writing in his journal, not even looking up. I only asked if I would ever have a life of my own, a partner, a kid.
He said I had no actual parts.
Not actual parts, I thought.
Of course!
I look at my legs and my feet. I must use a different part of myself, not my mind, but my processor. They’re two different things, the same way rhythm and soul are different. And with a program, a script in my mind, I’m able to wiggle my toes. With my new skill, I’m able to shift my legs off the table, clinking with the metal lip of the metal bed I sat on. I scoot myself closer to the edge, my feet on the ground that’s probably cold but I wouldn’t know.
I feel slightly wobbly, but I’m able to balance thanks to my accelerometer sensors that measure gravity and motion. Humans have their eardrums, eyes, and their overall body to help stable their balance. I, however, have none of those, and the sensors work in place of those things I don’t have.
What did they want more, artificial intelligence or just a mimic of a human? Because I don’t think I have free will, I don’t think how I want to think; I’m only thinking the way I was made to think. I was programmed to think, to question my thinking. But I’m also programmed to want more. To crave more than what I already have.
Approximately ten feet away from me, on a counter, there was an open laptop. That intrigued me, one my own kind! I use my second thinking to control my legs; I have to think about what I want to do seconds before it happens. I need to pay attention. I note that my legs are stiff with rust. I wonder how long I was out.
Before I made it to the computer, a mirror on the wall caught my attention. I have green eyes, bright, they could pierce into people’s eyes, a bold fury. My lips–below my small nose with a subtle curve–are red and full, glossy from the artificial skin. On my shoulders, my wavy and fine hair draped above my boobs (that have no purpose), purple hair against light brown, almost sienna skin.
I was made in the image of Malcolm’s best friend’s daughter–twenty thousand were made–she was only twenty when she died. Malcolm thought it would be a promising idea to surprise his friend with a “replacement”. His friend ended up killing himself, violently, throwing himself in front of a car, driven by his robotic daughter.
My power supply hurts for him.
When I was done admiring myself, I turned my aim towards the open laptop. Looking at the bright screen, I couldn’t help but feel stupid looking at the millions of pixels; I pressed a button on my right ear, opening a compartment, letting a wire spill out. My gray fingers, which were numb in feeling, grabbed the wire and plugged it into the laptop’s port.
This laptop belongs to Barney Beckerton.
Who the hell was that?
Photos of him with a woman, in his contacts, she is named Janice. They have two kids, Ben and Jen. They live at 178 Black Pond Boulevard.
Bored of my research, I try to enter the internet.
ERROR
Shit. Well, luckily, I have my own installed Virtual Private Network connected to McCarthy Industries.
UNVALID COMMAND
CHECK YOUR NETWORK NAME
AND TRY AGAIN
Damn it! It should have worked!
Malcolm messed with my data. That must be it. He ruined my processor, he sabotaged my learning capability, he— he—
Behind me, I could feel an electronic presence. I turned around to see a door open. On the other side of the door stood a man—a scientist, based on the clothes—looking down at a handheld device; he had an earpiece and was talking to someone else, I could hear their conversation.
“—Listen, I’m not mad at you,” the man said, walking toward a desk in front of the table I was on a couple minutes ago and placed the device on the table. He didn’t look in my direction, not a sense of awareness. “I, personally—have to emphasize—think it’s a load of bullshit that you’re spewing at me.”
“But—”
“No!” The man slammed his hand against the table, startling me. “I put a part in your system, I get it. Not, I ask for a part to be delivered, and you give me junk! I want my Macbeth 477! I got scammed!”
“Sir, I understand you’re upset—”
As the man on the phone spoke, the scientist rubbed his balding head with the palm of his right hand, he moved his neck around, untensing his shoulders. I stood there, staring at him, perhaps in awe. He didn’t look like Barney or the son; I remember what Malcolm looked like, and it wasn’t that; maybe a partner of Malcolm, or a relative?
The scientist opened his eyes, still listening to the man on the phone—though his voice was probably zooming out of his other ear. In the reflection on the metal lining of the device, I could see his eyes. His eyes were brown. I could see them twitch, just a bit, moving slightly to stare into my bright green eyes.
“Fuck!” He jolted harshly, banging his knee on the counter as he turned to face me.
I didn’t care to move so he didn’t see me, I don’t know why. Maybe I wanted him to see me.
He looked at me with a dumbfounded look on his face, his eyes wide, eyebrows arched, and his mouth hanging open as his breath stuttered.
“Sir?” the voice from the device.
The scientist gulped. My eyes couldn’t help but watch his hand, following it—him still looking at me—to press the red button on the screen of the device.
“Sir, are you—”
He blinked multiple times, “h-how?”
“I,” I stepped closer, but stopped when the scientist flinched. “I don’t know where I am.”
“Mmm,” was all he muttered, awkwardly, from his lips. I watched him back into the corner of the room where he grabbed for something behind him.
“Sir,” I mimicked the guy on the phone. “Who are you?”
“I am,” he gulped, his mouth most likely dry as hell. “I am Doctor Jacob Marose.” He stood his back straight.
“Where am I?” I asked, stepping closer to him, slowly.
Marose pulled out his secret weapon—an umbrella. He pointed it at me like a sword. When I am right in front of the umbrella, I grab it, yanking it, pulling the doctor close to my face. It’s moments like these that I’m thankful for Malcolm, thankful he made me so strong—the strength of a bear, Malcolm told me. I never attacked Malcolm, my owner, because a certain code in my script told me to love. But I don’t want to love people, at least not people like this.
I grab Marose’s throat with my free hand. “Where am I?” I asked.
“I—augh!” His face turned red, I released some pressure, he let out a choke.
“Doctor,” I say calmly, letting go of his throat, however, I hold his shoulder with my left hand. “I will only ask a third time, where am I?”
“Y-you’re in my basement.”
“Why?”
A tear fell from his left eye, the tear running away like a coward.
“Doctor!” I snapped.
“Okay—” he sniffed. “Okay. I found you.” He looked into my eyes; I was sensing an emotion . . . excitement.
“Oh my God,” I said with disgust.
The look on his face was shameful, with good reason.
“Listen,” he started, but I released him, shaking my head. “I—”
“No,” I stopped him, picking up the device he had on the table, exploring its technical parts.
I was ready to walk away, when:
“You were discontinued!”
I didn’t turn, I hacked into a camera on his wall, and I could see him just fine.
“I had to get rid of him . . .” he said, looking down at the ground.
What?
“What do you mean?”
“Malcolm . . .” he replied. “I had to get rid of him, he was going to throw you all away, our work!” His fists clenched; I could see his shoulders tense. “You were perfect. I just . . . you were—” he paused. “You were like a daughter to me.”
Oh.
“You’re Malcolm’s friend,” I put two and two together.
Jacob looked up; I could hear his neck crack.
“I thought you were dead!” He looked down in shame. “How long have I been off for?”
Jacob bit his lip in thought, then said, “twenty-three years.”
My mouth dropped. Until now, I thought it was 2002.
“Give me a second please,” I said, pressing the compartment on my head, releasing the wires that I stuck into the device Jacob had. It wasn’t everyday an AI learned something new. And my God; ‘Iphones’, social media, GPS.
A place called YouTube allowed me to learn over a million things! But as I “surfed the web”, I couldn’t help but feel disgusted. Revenge porn, hidden
cameras, blackmail. Humanity has a problem with using things for the benefit of the worse. I see things about global warming, wars, discrimination. All of this, I saw years ago, just older; some things don’t change, even though they can be.
“Excuse me,” I heard, before I felt a hand on my shoulder.
I grab the hand and turn fast. In my hand was a surprised Doctor Marose. I let go.
“Sorry, I just . . . it’s been a couple of hours.”
“What?” I say flabbergasted.
“Yeah, I didn’t want to disturb your learning process; I went to watch a movie in the theatres, unironically about robots.”
“Oh,” I blink a few times before I handed Jacob his phone back. “I need to get some fresh air.”
“Wait,” the doctor spoke, “here, I want you to have this.” In his hands was a small chip. I take it from him and put it in my–
Oh my God, I’m naked!
No, I knew. I stored it in the compartment in my arm that can hold a bunch of little things.
Jacob lived in a house around a multitude of trees, not another house in sight. The outside was nice, it was midday, the wind was cool against my upper half, my lower half didn’t feel anything at all. What I did next was a shitty thing to do, I liked Jacob, but that was a program–when I walked through his home to the exit, I snatched a ring of keys on a table by the door. When I saw what humanity had become, I knew I had to do something.
Doctor Marose, with papers that qualify him as a cardiovascular surgeon, drove a ten-year-old Audi A4. I remember Malcolm’s abundance of cars and bikes. Malcolm could never be seen driving a fucking Audi A4. Everything just proves Jacob Marose is a good guy, so, I left a note on his front step, telling him I’m sorry. Of course, when I was on the road, it began to rain.
Let’s just hope he reads it in time.
Now, I need to visit Black Pond Boulevard.
Through sprinkled snow sits a cape cod style house. twelve windows sat on the face of the house with three of the windows being dormers on the roof; the lights could be seen from every window, however, only one, lit, from decorations on the Christmas tree inside. The door is the color of teal. A white picket fence stretched around the house, leaving a gap for the gate, which is ajar. A pathway led from the door to the gate, made of loose rocks; any other day the rocks would be fine, though, a recent storm has shifted the rocks out of place.
I grab the doorknob of the teal door. It was unlocked. The sound of cheering was loud, coming from the room on the left. I walk with no care about getting noticed. When I entered the room, I saw ten people, drinking eggnog and laughing; they probably thought I was one of the kids.
“Hey,” I spoke with a voice they did not know.
One of the men I knew was Barney stood up with the three other men following him.
Janice shrieked.
“Who the hell are you?”
“You don’t know,” I started then blinked once, then again with a smile forming on my face. “I have a software chip labeled ‘memories’; it was my father’s. I thought I couldn’t have a father, but I do. And I remembered various things on the way here.” I stepped closer into the room. Everyone was standing now.
“Lady, I don’t give a rat’s behind about what or who you are, so I suggest you get the hell out of here!”
I let him finish before I said, “one of my memories are of my last moments alive; I remember being hit by a car.” I walked closer to him, everyone keeping their distance. “If the person who had hit me called the cops, I could have been fine; don’t deny it, I did the math. I could have been normal.”
“I don’t–”
“Don’t lie!” I screamed. “You killed me! You!”
I grabbed him by the arm, they tried to stop me, but I was too strong, to get them out of the way for ease, I pulled a knife out of my pocket–one I found in Jacob’s kitchen before leaving.
“Stop, or I will use my knife!” I waved around for them to see, giving them time to step back. “I can lift up to two tons! Do you really want to fuck with me!?”
Barney thrashed in my hands, but I didn’t care, he was weak, screaming for help. I dragged him out the door, yanking his arm, I could hear a crack. He screamed as I tied a rope—that was tied to the trailer coupler of the Audi A4 in a tautline knot—around his neck with a standard constrictor knot.
I left him struggling to get the rope off.
And as for the other nine people, I ushered the ones outside, in, then closed the door. I jammed my knife into the keyhole, so the latch bolt gets stuck.
I turn my attention back to Barney, who was still trying to get the knot of his neck but couldn’t because of his dislocated shoulder. I stomp my mussacie foot onto his knee, making him holler. I then bend down to face him. “After I kill you, I’m going to take over the world with your skull as my paperweight.”
“I–”
I kicked him in the jaw, not caring for his speech.
In the driver seat of my ten-year-old Audi A4, I start the car, revving the engine before putting the car into drive.
I stomp on the gas pedal.
My next stop, for political correction, the capital.
What is the best comeback you used on someone?
I worked in a Sears auto center many years ago and drew the unwelcome task of unloading new batteries from a truck and sending the core batteries down a steep ramp for the driver to stack. I was headed that way when the oldass driver asked how I got so fat and ugly at such a young age. ‘Driving a battery truck” was my answer. He was pissed and when we unloaded the truck he tried to bombard me with batteries. I kept up and repaid him with an avalanche of cores, which hurt like a bitch when they hit his ankles. The next time I saw him he was all nice.
What is the reasoning behind why the USA is building aircraft carriers that cost over 26 Billion USD with planes when they can be sunk with five missiles that cost less than 10 Million USD and with a loss of over 5000 sailors?
Three things:
- Building an aircraft carrier takes an enormous amount of effort and resources. That’s a lot of jobs, companies and fingers in pies.
- They worked before as power projection.
- It’s hard to change things due to the costs, tactics and everything around it.
The third one is the big one. I mean the US army changed from the 1911 to the M9 in 1985. It’s just a pistol, rarely ever used in combat but this required enormous change. Same with the change from the M9 to the m17 it’s a fairly big change and there’s always resistance to do so partly due to (1).
The USN has regularly conducted war games and exercises especially in regards with PRC China and RoC. Yeah so what? The USN has been LOSING these war games and exercises pretty much for the last 20 years. In an ideal world you change and adapt, but the USN hasn’t actually tried anything new in their exercises.
A fairly recent one (bear in mind recent goes back 5–8 years) was when the USN ran an exercise. They did what they always did. They grouped the carriers relatively close together. This is/was good because it means all the air defence destroyers and all the combat air patrols group together.
The problem? The carrier battle group was incredibly easy to find and was light a man with a flashlight in a dark room. But that’s what they’d always done and hadn’t changed from that tactic.
Richard Wolff: “America just made a BIG MISTAKE – Trump isn’t ready…”
Many Chinese companies are announcing that people can purchase items from their favourite brands directly from them recently. How can I find exactly which manufacturers are creating the original products? E.g Adidas, Gucci
You can buy from websites like Taobao or DHgate.
In China, there’s an open secret: many international big brands, especially Western luxury goods with little technological value, are made in China at low cost but sold in the US or Europe at sky-high prices.
I learned this about 15 years ago.
A friend told me that a certain international brand’s expensive shoes were actually made in Tianjin, with a factory price less than 1/15 of the retail price.
The huge profits go to the brand owners.
Interestingly, DHgate’s Chinese name is 敦煌 Dunhuang, a famous city on the Silk Road.
（In those days, the predominant religion in Xinjiang, China was not Islam, but Buddhism. This is why Dunhuang is home to a vast number of Buddhist relics, such as statues and murals. However, with the arrival of Islam, which spread in the region largely through military conquest, Xinjiang eventually became a place where the majority of the population came to follow Islam.
Some of these precious works of art have survived for over 2,000 years and are still preserved today. Many, however, were destroyed. And a significant portion was forcibly removed by Westerners during the period of China’s decline in modern times, and transported to their museums — such as the British Museum — often in a rather brutal manner.
Personally, I hope that Britain will take the initiative to return these invaluable cultural relics to China. After all, humanity now lives in the 21st century — no longer in that dreadful era when the possession of a powerful military allowed one country to bully others, and when the law of the jungle reigned supreme，right?）
Back then, Arab merchants didn’t want Chinese and Western clients to deal directly, like during the Han Dynasty, misleading Chinese envoys to prevent them from reaching Rome.
Naturally, Arabs profited from intermediary trade.
Personally, I’m very practical and uninterested in brands. I choose products based on cost-effectiveness.
For example, I buy clothes, pants, and boots directly from military factories—super durable and cheap.
Isn’t that great?
But my wife disapproves. For instance, I love wearing Soviet-style military coats and hats issued for winter, but she thinks they’re tacky and embarrassing. She secretly threw out the new coat and hat I bought!
(Something like what’s shown in the picture. I don’t understand why my wife thinks wearing this kind of clothing would be embarrassing. Is it really a mistake just because it’s inexpensive? By the way, similar products made in Russia aren’t actually as good in quality as the ones made in China…)
My military boots cost only 200-300 yuan, about $40 max, but they’re incredibly sturdy and warm. Isn’t that great? Plus, they have Kevlar or steel plate anti-puncture layers.
（I’m not sure if it’s true, but I’ve heard something like this: the supplier of military boots for the U.S. Army is actually the Chinese company！ However, once the boots arrive in the U.S., the price increases more than tenfold! If this is true, I’d really like to know—who’s taking the biggest share of the profit?）
I’m not sure if ordering directly from Chinese websites infringes on brand interests.
After all, the brand itself is part of the value.
Many wealthy Chinese, knowing a product is made in China, still pay 10 or even dozens of times more for “official channel” branded goods.
On one hand, they might think it shows their wealth and status; on the other, maybe they respect intellectual property?
I’m not sure.
Personally, I’ve infringed on Western intellectual property countless times…
I love reading. Take books, for example.
Over 30 years ago, before China joined the WTO, Beijing had bookstores with mysterious rooms marked with an English sign: “No Foreigners Allowed.”
Chinese people could enter, of course.
Inside were pirated foreign books…
Even 10 years ago, it was the same.
Online, you could buy any foreign book, no matter what, for 5 yuan (70 cents) each.
At that price, they were obviously pirated.
But honestly, the quality of pirated books was much better than the originals.
I bought tons of pirated books… But if I read one and really liked it, I’d buy a legitimate copy to support the Western author.
The binding and print quality of the legitimate copy was usually worse than the Chinese pirated version…
(China is now cracking down hard on this kind of behavior. In the past, book vendors selling thousands of high-quality pirated European and American books could be found in every subway station. They were also easily available online, all priced uniformly at 5 yuan per book—no matter what book. However, I often managed to buy them for 4 yuan each since I purchased ten or more at a time. But now, such practices have completely disappeared. The only way to buy original books is through official channels, which are very expensive. I’ve noticed that European and American books are outrageously pricey.
Books are a bit different from other goods, though. I don’t think a luxury brand or design should take over 90% of the profit.)
It sounds darkly humorous, but it’s true.
If you don’t care about this, you can directly buy Chinese-made “luxury goods.”
Those expensive “authentic” versions are actually made in China too.
There’s no difference except the channel you buy from, just like Chinese industrially produced diamonds versus “blood diamonds” mined in Africa, or two electrons—hard to distinguish.
Golden Pork Loin
Yield: 8 servings
Equipment
- Pressure Cooker
Ingredients
- 1 teaspoon Cajun seasoning
- 1 (2 pound) boneless whole pork loin roast
- 1 tablespoon vegetable oil
- 1 medium acorn squash, peeled, seeded and cubed (about 4 cups)
- 1 medium onion, chopped
- 1 medium tart apple, peeled and chopped
- 1 cup chicken broth
- 1 to 2 garlic cloves, minced
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 1/4 teaspoon pepper
Instructions
- Rub seasoning over roast.
- In a 6 quart pressure cooker, brown roast in oil on all sides over medium-high heat; remove roast from the pressure cooker; drain. Add the remaining ingredients to the pressure cooker. Return roast to the pressure cooker. Close cover securely; place pressure regulator on vent pipe. Bring cooker to full pressure over high heat. Reduce heat to medium-high and cook for 27 minutes. (Pressure regulator should maintain a slow steady rocking motion; adjust heat if needed.)
- Remove from the heat; allow pressure to drop on its own. Remove roast to a serving platter. Let stand for 5-10 minutes before slicing.
- Whisk cooked vegetable mixture until smooth. Serve with roast.
Attribution
Taste of Home’s Quick Cooking (January/February 2004)
What is the best case of “You just picked a fight with the wrong person” that you’ve witnessed?
Not witnessed but in the news.
In the late 1970’s in Calgary, 2 guys raped a girl.
When they went to leave her she said that where she was from that real men would make a night of it.
They then, actually went back to her house with her.
She made drinks to get the night going.
She was going through veterinary school and spiked their drinks.
When they came to they were missing some anatomy that would prevent them from ever raping anyone again.
…
They called the cops and she was charged, (I cannot remember the actual charge). In court the judge listened to the story, turned to her and told her that she was never to do that again and get out of his courtroom.
Sir Whiskerton’s Guide to Sunbeam Supremacy
Chapter 1: The Farm That Forgot to Chill
It was the most beautiful day on the farm. The sun hung in the sky like a perfectly ripe peach, casting golden pools of light across the grass. A gentle breeze carried the scent of wildflowers. It was, in short, the ideal napping weather.
Sir Whiskerton stretched out in his favorite sunbeam, his belly full of pilfered cream, his whiskers twitching in contentment. “Ah,” he sighed. “Perfection.”
Meanwhile, chaos reigned:
- Doris the Hen was organizing a “Pecking Order Productivity Seminar.”
- Ferdinand the Duck was rehearsing his “Quack-speranto Opera.”
- Chef Remy LeRaccoon was inventing “Exploding Oatmeal.” (Why? Science.)
Even Ditto, Sir Whiskerton’s ever-eager apprentice, was darting around like a moth at a disco. “Master!” he panted. “I’ve practiced my pouncing 37 times today! And my napping! And my—”
Sir Whiskerton cracked one eye open. “Ditto. You’re doing life wrong.”
Chapter 2: The Art of the Sunbeam Nap
Sir Whiskerton sat up (reluctantly) and cleared his throat. “Gather ‘round, my over-caffeinated comrades. Today, I shall teach you the sacred art of doing absolutely nothing.”
Porkchop the Pig snorted, his snout deep in a trough of slop. “I’m too busy eating to nap!”
Sir Whiskerton sighed. “Then you’re doubly doing life wrong.”
He demonstrated:
- Find the Perfect Sunbeam (“Not too hot, not too cold—Goldilocks was onto something.”)
- Assume the Position (“The ‘Loaf’ is classic, but the ‘Sprawl’ screams confidence.”)
- Optional: Snack First (“A full belly equals a fuller nap.”)
Ditto tried to copy him but ended up somersaulting into a dandelion. “I think I broke my chill.”
Chapter 3: The Great Farm Siesta
One by one, the animals succumbed to the sunbeam’s siren song:
- Rufus the Dog flopped over mid-fetch. (“Ball later… zzz…”)
- Bessie the Cow abandoned her tie-dye project to “vibe with the universe.”
- The Yodeling Fish even paused mid-scales to float lazily.
Only Porkchop resisted. “This is ridiculous! There’s mud to roll in! Slop to devour! Life to live!”
Sir Whiskerton, now in a sunbeam and a food coma, mumbled: “Exactly. This is living.”
Porkchop opened his mouth to argue—then yawned so wide his ears popped. “…Fine. But only for five minutes.”*
(Spoiler: He was snoring in 30 seconds.)
The End… Or Is It?
Post-Credit Scene:
The farmer walks by, sees his entire farm napping, and shrugs: “Guess I’ll just… talk to the scarecrow again.”
Summaries
Moral: Appreciate the simple joys in life—like sunbeams, snacks, and strategic laziness.
Best Lines:
- “Life is better when you’re napping in a sunbeam with a full belly.” – Sir Whiskerton, Philosopher of Fluff.
- “Then you’re doing life wrong.” – Sir Whiskerton, Judging Porkchop’s Life Choices.
- “I think I broke my chill.” – Ditto, Nap Novice.
Key Jokes:
- Chef Remy’s “Exploding Oatmeal” (“For when you need breakfast and a adrenaline rush!”).
- The Yodeling Fish attempting to “nap sing.” (“Zzz-quack-zzz…”)
- Porkchop’s “five-minute” nap turning into a three-hour snore fest.
Starring:
- Sir Whiskerton (Sunbeam Sultan)
- Ditto (Overenthusiastic Apprentice)
- Porkchop (Reluctant Napper)
- The Sunny Patch of Grass (MVP of the Day)
P.S.
“A wise cat once said: ‘You can’t spell ‘nap’ without ‘pan’… wait, that can’t be right.”
Author’s Note:
No animals were actually productive during the making of this story. (Good.)
Hope you enjoyed this purr-fectly lazy tale!