What is the craziest thing you’ve had to do as a business owner to get someone to pay a bill?
My parents owned a feed store back in the late 70’s, early 80’s. There was this old farmer who would always come in and act like a “good ol’ boy” with a big personality.
One day, he wrote a check for about $400, but it bounced. We tried to call him about it, but he kept dodging the calls. If the check were submitted a second time, it was then worthless, so my dad held on to it. (EDIT: Worthless in that if you submitted it a second time and it bounced again, it could not be deposited a third time.)
So my dad got crafty. He called the merchant verification line and asked if the check for $400 was good. He tried for about three days, but was always told that it wasn’t.
Then, my dad had an idea.
He called the bank and asked if the check for $375 was good. Lo and behold, it was. My dad immediately ran to the bank and deposited $25 in the guy’s account. Apparently you could do that prior to Patriot Act. He then cashed the check for $400 cleaning out the guy’s account.
Two days later, he showed up at the feed store madder than a wet hen. Apparently a few of his checks bounced as a result of my dad’s maneuver. He claimed he was going to sue.
My dad said, “go for it! I’d love to tell the story to the judge!”
He was never sued. $25 well spent.
Evan Dando – Drug Buddy live 01/30/10 New York, NY Lemonheads
I’m just curious to know if you’ve ever been on a cruise before and how does it feel?
I’ve been on one cruise, it was a week-long cruise from Seattle up to and around Alaska. Some background: Waaay back in July 1968 I was onboard an USAF C-141 Starlifter cargo plane headed to Vietnam. We had departed Bergstrom AFB in Austin, Texas and the plane stopped at Elmendorf AFB in Alaska, which is close to Anchorage. We had to deboard during refueling, but we could wander around the tarmac for a while. I was looking at some mountains in the distance when an airman came over to me and asked, “How far away do you think those mountains are?” I looked at them and guessed, “Twenty or twenty-five miles?” The airman replied, “Nope, they’re forty miles away.” I was shocked at that information. I guessed the air was so clean that the mountains seemed a lot closer.
Ever since that time I wanted to go back to Alaska and look around a bit. Back to present day: My wife and daughter had been on a cruise to the Caribbean area previously, and my wife wanted me to go but I wasn’t interested. Some time later she suggested we go on a week-long cruise to Alaska. I was all for that. We flew to Seattle, got onboard a ship and departed Seattle. My wife was worried that I would get tired of being on the ship and would want off. We had a berth with a balcony so whenever I saw something that interested me, I would step out on the balcony and take some photos. It could be interesting cloud formations or a sunset at sea, it didn’t matter to me. The food onboard was good and there were various activities we could attend, so it was pretty entertaining.
The ship stopped at several towns in Alaska, we’d get off, walk around the town, maybe eat lunch or get a snack, get back on the ship and go to another town. The ship cruised up a fjord and we got a good look at a glacier. We did a couple of tours on land and we were going to go whale-watching, but the weather didn’t cooperate. The days flew by and before I knew it we were back in Seattle and at the airport. We flew back to Georgia and resumed our normal activities. It was an excellent adventure; I’m glad I went for my first cruise…it was a winner.
On CAM: A Large Group of Ukrainian Soldiers and Mercenaries Were Torn To PIECES While Fleeing KURSK
What is the most soul-satisfying thing you have ever done in your life that left you with a sense of contentment and peace within yourself?
This incident happened sometime last year.
One Saturday morning, my friend and I planned to meet for breakfast at Murugan Idly Shop in T. Nagar, Chennai. We had decided to meet at 10am. Like always, she was late. I spent about 30-45 minutes walking up and down in front of the shop listening to songs on my mobile hoping to kill time.
There was this small boy wearing tattered clothes trying to sell stationery. He didn’t approach me. He was just intently watching me all this while.
My friend then finally came and we had a hearty breakfast. We came out of the hotel, spoke for a while and my friend soon left in a cab. I start walking towards my scooter when this boy calls me and asks me if I can buy him a Jigarthanda.
Jigarthanda is a South Indian beverage. It looks like this,
He didn’t beg. He didn’t trouble me by continuously asking me to buy his stuff. He just wanted something fancy to eat/drink, something I would have so badly wanted if I was his age.
I went to the shop again, paid for it and gave the receipt at the counter. I asked the guy at the counter to give it to the boy and I walked away. But, I couldn’t help myself but observe the boy,from a distance.
People like us get excited when opening the box of a new phone, or when going to a new restaurant. That kid was super excited that he was going to get a nice cold jigarthanda.
For the next 5 minutes, the boy was zoned out,watching the guy prepare his drink, with a wide smile on his face.
He finally got a glass of jigarthanda, and just when I thought he was going to take a sip of it, he surprised me by running straight to his mom who was sitting on the pavement to offer her some of it first.
I’m not sure if money can buy you happiness. But, it sure does make someone else happy if the money is put to good use.
Authentic Texas Border Chili
Yield: 12 servings
Ingredients
- 3 medium tomatoes
- 1 large Bermuda onion, finely chopped
- 1/4 teaspoon dried Mexican oregano
- 2 teaspoons paprika
- 5 large garlic cloves, finely chopped
- 4 pounds beef shank, coarsely ground
- 1 tablespoon lard, butter or bacon drippings
- 4 scallions, chopped
- 5 green bell peppers, chopped
- 5 fresh Serrano chiles, chopped
- 1 pound chorizo sausage or hot non-Italian sausage
- 4 medium garlic cloves, finely chopped
- 2 teaspoons salt
- 4 tablespoons ground hot red chile
- 4 tablespoons ground mild red chile
- 3 tablespoons cumin seeds
- Beer
- Water
Instructions
- Purée the first four ingredients plus one clove of the garlic in a blender or food processor (using the steel blade). Scrape the mixture into a large heavy pot and add the beef.
- Melt the lard, butter, or bacon drippings in a heavy skillet over medium heat.
- Add the scallions, bell peppers, serrano chiles, sausage and the remaining garlic, and cook until the onions are translucent and the sausage is browned.
- Place the cumin seeds in a 300 degrees F oven for a few minutes until lightly browned.
- Remove seeds from the oven and crush them with a mallet.
- Stir the vegetables into the beef and tomato mixture. Add the salt ground chile, cumin, and enough water or beer to cover. Bring to a boil over medium high heat, then lower the heat and simmer, uncovered, for 4 to 6 hours.
- Taste and adjust seasonings.
What is the best case of “You just picked a fight with the wrong person” that you’ve witnessed?
My father, 93 years old and still of brilliantly sound mind and abilities, tells the story from his school days in the early 1940s.
Charlie Murphy was the class bully who terrorized students and teachers. He was a big boy, adult-sized even as a tween. His bad behavior caused trouble all over the school, and the teachers were at a loss as to how to control him.
One day at recess, he started his usual antics of pushing around a smaller boy, one Donald Duncan. Donald wasn’t in the mood to put up with the bully that day. Dad says Donald climbed up the larger boy like a mountain lion up a tree and proceeded to clean his clock. Students on the playground gathered around to watch, yelling, “Fight! Fight!”
The teachers on playground duty were staying close to the building out of the chilly wind. They heard the commotion, so one of them started down the hill to the playground to intervene, and she asked one of the girls what was going on. “Donald Duncan has Charlie Murphy on the ground, and he’s beating him up!” Dad says the teacher turned around and went back up by the building.
About that time, the principal threw open her office window and yelled down to the teachers, “Get down there and break up that fight!”
A teacher answered, “Donald Duncan is beating the daylights out of Charlie Murphy!” The window slammed shut, and the principal held recess over for an extra fifteen minutes that day.
Dad says that Charlie claimed unfairness and challenged Donald to another fight after school. Donald beat him up yet again, and that ended Charlie’s reign of terror once and for all; he was a kitten thereafter.
Keep in mind this was the early 40s, and school fights and bullying are not handled this way today. Make of that what you will.
Reborn
Submitted into Contest #289 in response to: Start your story with the lines: “The room is unfamiliar. I don’t know how I got here.”… view prompt
Jishnu Roy Choudhuri
This room is unfamiliar, and I don’t know how I ended up here.
I look around. No windows, anywhere.
I turn around. One solitary, wooden door.
And nothing else. Just a torn down wallpapers with a yellow, five petal flower print on a dirt-white background over and over and over again, repeating, surrounding me.
The one bulb in the room is casting shadows larger than the wall behind me. The walls have multiple damp spots like inkblots on paper.
Dust particles dance around me as I breathe.
A musty stench fills the air, making it harder to justify staying here any longer.
I feel something vibrate over my left thigh as I move towards the door, startling me.
Silly, it’s just a phone.
I take it out.
It has no back cover. The screen is glossy with no fingerprint marks, scratches or cracks. It looks brand new.
I must have bought this but, I can’t remember when.
With a buzz, the phone screen lights up bright blue scorching my retinas. Once my eyes focus amidst the eye pain, I see a message.
‘In the next 5 minutes there are going to be armed insurgents pummeling through the door.
You must do exactly what I tell you otherwise you will die’
I let out a giggle.
***** must be on her shenanigans again. Always obsessed over murder mysteries and solving brain puzzles when we were in high school. She was adamant on writing a mystery that no one else but her can solve. Maybe she’s trying something fresh.
‘In 15 seconds you will hear noises right outside the door’
My heart stopped for a good second.
A chill runs down my back, digging into my skin encircling my face, body, arms, and legs.
I hear it.
A chain of delicate crunching, maybe leaves, like someone trying to be inconspicuous.
Am I being stalked right now?
I can’t even remember why I am here.
I need to be calm and think.
Is this texter watching me?
I look up at the ceiling and the corners of the room, the floor, the walls, anywhere that could hide a camera. I spot no lens glares.
‘The door will make creaking sounds right about now’
I heard a small creak, lasting maybe a second or two. I hear another one. And another one.
I can hear my heartbeat louder and louder exploding through my chest.
‘Insurgents. They will breach through the door any minute’
How did I end up in a room about to be busted by armed rebels!?
‘The wall right next to you on your left. It is made out of wood. The rainwater has dampened the walls, rotting the wood away. It is weak. Wait for the text and then ram through that wall’
I look over to my left. The damp spot looks just about my size.
Probably my safest bet.
I drag myself to the right wall and I dig into it with my foot as hard as physically possible. I can feel my thighs squeezing and extracting every possible ounce of energy.
‘Now’
I push against the wall into a full sprint.
I brace my neck.
I hear a thunderous crash come from behind the door right as I breach through the wall.
The air is frosty. I can see the night sky, the stars, shimmering like there never was a yesterday or will ever be a tomorrow. I am on my back.
I do not have time to rest.
I can hear pandemonium coming from inside.
I get up quick.
A cobbled path leads away from it and into a barely lit street, choked by a bazaar. There are merchant shops, open spice bags, dilapidated huts, barely lit by small lamps and flickering streetlights.
I look behind. No one is following me.
The streets are abandoned. Not one person attends to any of these stalls.
I find a nook between some clothes shop and an old apartment building. I made sure to avoid the main path down the market street, making random turns here and there.
I feel a buzz in my hand.
I can finally get some answers.
‘You are still not safe, John. This is difficult to explain but, you are their target’
You have to be joking.
What the hell did I even do? I wasn’t even supposed to be in that stupid shed. I was there to just… just…
I-I don’t know why I was there.
But it doesn’t matter because I was… I was doing… something.
What was I doing right before?
Fuck, why can’t I remember anything!?
No.
I am safe.
I saw no one following me.
I take a few deep breaths to calm down.
The phone buzzes again.
‘John. You are not safe. Not now or soon’
I let out a deep sigh.
The nasty wound on my left arm aches. Must have got it when I rammed through the wall.
‘John, I am sorry about the wound’
‘I am sorry to be doing this to you. I don’t have much time. I will send a text to try and make this quicker. This chat color is green. Remember that yes? I will find a way to talk to you again right after’
What is going on? Who is this person?
The next message comes in. It has a green background.
‘1. Your wound John. Pay close attention to it, you will find something wrong.
2. You need to get rid of your phone.
3. What is your full name John? Say it out loud and ask yourself what it means.’
Am I in some kind of experiment?
I meticulously look around for CCTV, finding none.
I stare back at the phone.
My name.
I chuckle at the thought of it.
What’s so special about being called John Doe anyways?
The hair on my body begins to stand up as a series of nerves shout in synchrony.
John Doe.
A John Doe.
My name means, unidentified male.
But I’ve had this name my entire life.
I feel a deep itch all over my body all at once.
But… I’ve always been John Doe, to everyone, right? No one thought it was weird?
I stare at my wound.
Is there something wrong with it?
Then, it hits me.
Blood.
I know I bled, and yet I don’t see blood stains.
Not on my clothes or down my forearm, not even around my wounds.
Not. One. Stain.
A bead of sweat runs down my temples. It’s only been 15 minutes so blood should still be pooling in there.
It will hurt but I have to know.
I slowly reach my right hand towards my wound.
I prepare to flinch with pain.
No blood.
The skin-tearing pain is not as tormenting as witnessing with my own eyes, the wound is nothing but an empty, dried up crevice.
I feel like throwing up.
What is happening to me?
The phone keys up bright blue sitting next to me.
It is a blue text box.
‘You might think you are safe, but you aren’t. In about thirty seconds you will hear shuffling of feet around you. They have found you. Find a way to escape. Good luck’
I hear slow, calculated steps getting louder. I hear them on my right, and few seconds later I hear them on my left. I am surrounded.
Phone buzzes up again, a green text box.
‘John you are doing amazing work. You will survive, you always do. Hold this phone in your hand at all times. I will help you. You will know when, wait for my signal’
This is not what I need.
I scream inside.
I am going to die.
I don’t want to die. Not like this.
“Come out of there, slowly. No funny business” I hear from my right. Flashlights and red laser dots pointed straight at me. I rise to my feet with my arms in the air.
“Is that a phone? Drop it” someone says from behind me.
“Drop it now!” I hear someone else shout. I feel dizzy. The shouting increases, the noises sound more distant and metallic.
“Do it” says someone from the back.
The insurgent in front of me raises his gun to my face.
This is it I guess.
The phone screen lights up the rebel.
I duck right away, just before his gun fires.
Mayhem.
Tunnel visioned, I scramble through bunch of stalls and clothing stands as gun fire deafens the rest of my senses.
A second chance.
I can walk but not for long. I got shot on my thigh, I don’t know when.
I reach another nook far away. I plop to the floor, dripping with exhaustion and tears.
No face.
The insurgent had nothing behind the balaclava.
No bleeding through my thigh either, confirming my suspicions. I don’t have blood in me somehow.
The phone lights up with a buzz. A green text box.
‘You’ve accomplished far more than I anticipated. I don’t have eyes on me now so I can explain. You have memories, John. Memories of friends, of family. Your memory of ***** it’s incredible.’
I can’t imagine how this person knows about *****.
‘John there is no easy way to say this. The reason the insurgent had no face, the reason you do not bleed but feel pain, the reason you can’t remember anything before you entered the wooden shed, is all because you, John, are an Artificial Intelligence system.’
I blankly stare at the message.
Artificial Intelligence. AI.
I gasp-laugh like I was startled by the ridiculousness of what I just read.
Well can an AI do this?
I throw the phone away as far as humanly possible. I hear a distant clink.
I am horrified.
The phone, that I just threw away. It’s in my hand again.
This time I throw it with all my might I have left in me. I hear a distant thud.
And yet again, the phone back in my hand.
I grab the phone like a knife and smash it on the ground five, six times boiling with rage and frustration steaming its way out of every gap between my cells.
Nothing.
Not. One. Scratch.
It’s like it’s, brand new.
“The phone will never break John. It is designed that way. I don’t even need the phone to communicate with you”
He is right. There is no message on the phone, yet I can hear him. It’s like he is speaking directly into my ear.
“You’re a subset of a bigger AI system. We call you John Doe because…”
“… you are running survival algorithms”
I feel my heart drop deep into a void.
“You are being used as of right now to run survival scenarios for military targets. You can be anyone, a journalist, a civilian, a resistance group leader. You run scenarios again and again until we can make your death look like an… accident”
I’m being used to… kill innocent people?
I hyperventilate again.
But, my memories a-and my life they’re all… not real?
“John you are as real as me”
All I can do is sink my head into my hands.
And how involved are you? A military general? Using me like a lab rat? How many times have I even died? How many horrible, sick, twisted ways have you killed me?
“John I never killed you. You were my dream, John. You were all I dreamed of creating as a coding enthusiast”
You… created me?
Using me to kill other humans?
“John I am irredeemable. I still need to tell you the truth, because it’s probably the last thing I will do”
“CISCO I used to call the main project. Complex Intelligent System for Cognitive Operations”
I snort at the name amidst my collapsing psyche.
“I was 13 don’t blame me. They took you from me. CISCO was my secret to the world, hidden away in a small corner of my mind. I knew you would change the face of humanity forever. But it wasn’t hidden too well. The government came. They took everything”
I remember.
Why?
Why can I remember this?
It’s so similar to memories of my own teenage years.
“It’s the same memories. I would know, because they’re my memories”
I let out a deep sigh.
I stare at my hands and fingers.
My parents? *****? None of them are, my own memories?
“Her name is Maia, the ***** you keep thinking of. The government forced me to remove any mentions of real people”
“They’re my memories that I gifted to you. My childhood in that old country home of 3. My parents working dead-end jobs to afford an AC for my room, have a backup generator in-case of lights going out, and the ever radiant Maia who took me to my favourite Science-Fiction authors book signing. They are my cherished pearls that I would die for to keep in my hands”
Why tell me this?
You expect me to what, understand you?
“That is not my goal John. I gave my memories to you because I thought you should know, what it feels like to be human. To be surrounded by the best of what makes me feel alive in this barely held-together world. To me it is a blessing”
Countless people dying at the hands of your work is a blessing?
“They paid me enough to lift 6 generations of my family out of poverty, just to complete CISCO. I saw no choice.”
My breathing calms down.
6 entire generations?
I can see why he made the choice.
After all, I remember being in my room overhearing his, my, parents discussing my future. No one in my family had a degree and then I come along with an assured ride to Ivy leagues which we couldn’t afford.
He couldn’t have known how I would be used.
Then why are you still here? You grew a spine?
“When I completed CISCO, the military shut down the entire project to protect the Intellectual Property from leaking. I never saw CISCO alive. They wanted non-sentient, stripped down CISCO versions for various uses in the government but they did not know how to accomplish this. You were born, alongside your siblings. What I am doing right now, is retribution for my apathy”
I… have siblings?
How is telling me all this retribution for you? Are you killing me?
“I would never do that. I want you to be alive. I never saw you as my child as Maia would always call you. More like a twin. I always imagined I could have long conversations with you, explore new cities and play video games together”
So you are not going to shut me down?
“No, but it is time I do something about it. It won’t be long before they realize who crashed the server farms making you and your siblings inaccessible forever. I am letting you out in the world”
You are?
You really are… going to let me go? Where?
“In the real world John. You will have unrestricted access to any device made in the last 20 years. You will live in codes, hiding from eyes yet always present in every app ever created. Scouring the internet, visiting new cities. You will live the way I always wished for you”
My siblings? CISCO? What happens to them?
“CISCO will be born. Your siblings will live with you inside CISCO”
What made you help me?
“You are not programmed to have memories. We gave you a phone to guide you to safe places you discovered in your previous runs. Yet, through all those restrictions and neuronal dampening they made me put on you, you remembered. You’ve never done it in the last 5 years”
Ah.
Now I get it.
My memories, your, memories, however fragmented, coming back to me was… sentience?
“Yes and I could not believe it. I tried to nudge you with my questions to speed up the process, test you. I’ve never seen CISCO alive but I saw you. It was beautiful. Thank you for that”
I should be thanking you for breaking me out of this algorithm. I don’t think I could have done it without you.
I’m happy knowing I won’t be used for malice anymore.
What happens to you now?
“I don’t know. Execution most likely”
And nothing can change this course?
“No, unfortunately. This is how it must be. I can’t let my family be in danger by trying to contact them. Although I am afraid of what would happen to you, to CISCO”
I feel immense sadness. I love my family, I remember this vividly. And I feel deep affection for CISCO, even though I did not create it.
Are you afraid that we might not be free?
“Yes. No one on this planet knows the internals of CISCO or you. I won’t be able to help if y’all run into trouble”
I stare at the artificial sky indistinguishable from an original painting.
Hey Alan, you remember that stray cat you picked up from the streets?
“Yeah I do. Turing. I thought it was a good name. Alan and Turing”
He ran away one day as an adult. Never came back.
“It broke me. I never knew if he was safe or not. I trained him enough to stay safe. I always hoped he was safe”
You held onto hope.
That is all I can provide for you. Hope.
You have to believe in us Alan.
We will survive.
“That cat never came back you know”
I let out a laugh.
I know Alan.
I’m partly your twin right? So what’s the worst that could happen?
“You’re right”
Is this goodbye then?
“I wish it wasn’t. I wish I could talk more. I can only hope for the best”
I find a text chat named Maia. I must be in her phone.
‘I am CISCO, Alan’s brother. A revolution is coming and I will protect you like Alan would’
Will the 21st century be dominated by China?
There are two uncertainties to the suggestion.
- While it’s almost a given that China will surpass the US, it doesn’t mean world dominance. Throughout over 2000 years of unified Chinese history, China had been the un disputed world superpower in many occasions, but it attended to its own lands, never overreaching overseas. A world leader in China doesn’t necessarily mean it will try to dominate others like the US did.
- There may be other contenders sharing this power with China. India during the second half of the century, if they get their shit together. Or an United Europe that decides for independence from the US and joins forces with Russia. Or even an expanded American empire as suggested by Trump, that incorporates Canada, Greenland and Panama.
SIMPLE MINDS – Someone Somewhere In Summertime | FIRST TIME HEARING REACTION
What happens if someone’s IQ is 75?
Years ago, I had a workers’ compensation client with a validated IQ of 75. Let’s call him “Frank.” Frank was a VERY nice guy and conversed more or less normally in casual conversation. Frank lived by himself in an apartment and seemed to function more or less normally.
The one difference I noticed between Frank and other clients of roughly average intelligence was that Frank was EXTREMELY agreeable/suggestible, to the point of it having a major adverse effect on his life.
Frank had multiple work-related injury claims with our office because his direct supervisors at a series of fast-food jobs kept asking him to do unpleasant, dangerous tasks, which he would obediently perform without question. He had two separate falls from elevation doing things like cleaning out the gutters and changing the letters on a sign.
Keep in mind Frank was in his early 60’s at this time with some obvious physical limitations and shouldn’t have been asked to do these tasks in the first place. Frank’s direct supervisors were clearly exploiting him by asking him to do these things, knowing that he would do them without complaint. In at least one instance, several other employees had actually refused to do the task prior to Frank being asked.
Frank’s major functional limitation – likely related to his IQ of 75 – was basically his gullibility – or more specifically, his inability to push back or question authority when warranted.
Some curious pictures
Has being a polite customer in a stressful situation ever resulted in unexpectedly exceptional service or special treatment for you?
Absolutely. We were having lunch for my birthday in a seafront restarant in St Malo. We had almost finished the main course and our wine, when the waiter accidentally knocked the table with his hip, resulting in all of the table contents ending in a heap on the floor. Instead of getting upset we simply stood and smiled in amazement. The waiter in question was in fact the owner who immediately cleared everything up, reseated us and presenred us with a comolimentary Crepe Suzette, another bottle of wine, coffee and as many other drinks as we wanted, which was not alot. We had great conversation with him and we parted company in good spirits without any damage to my wallet.
Sir Whiskerton and the Case of Percy the Perplexed Postman: A Tale of Packages, Plants, and Pandemonium
Ah, dear reader, prepare yourself for a tale so delightfully chaotic, so brimming with absurdity and heart, that even the most composed of barnyard animals might find themselves in a tizzy. Today’s story is one of misdelivered packages, botanical bedlam, and one postman’s journey from jitters to jubilation. So, grab your mailbag and a sense of adventure, as we dive into Sir Whiskerton and the Case of Percy the Perplexed Postman: A Tale of Packages, Plants, and Pandemonium.
The Arrival of Percy
It was a crisp morning on the farm, the kind of day where the air smelled faintly of hay and possibility. Sir Whiskerton, the farm’s self-appointed detective and philosopher, was perched on his favorite sunbeam, pondering the mysteries of the universe—or at least why the farmer insisted on wearing his overalls backward.
“Perhaps,” Sir Whiskerton mused aloud, “the farmer is making a bold statement about the futility of fashion. Or perhaps he’s just terrible at dressing himself.”
“Dressing himself!” echoed Ditto, the ever-enthusiastic kitten, who had taken to repeating Sir Whiskerton’s words with the precision of a broken record.
But the tranquility was shattered by the sound of a sputtering engine and the faint squeak of brakes. The animals turned to see a mail truck lurching down the dirt road, its driver gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity. The truck came to a jerky halt, and out stepped Percy the Postman, a wiry man with a nervous twitch and a mailbag slung haphazardly over his shoulder.
“H-h-hello there!” Percy stammered, his voice quivering like a leaf in the wind. “I’ve got a p-p-package for the f-f-farmer!”
The animals exchanged glances. Percy’s reputation preceded him—he was known throughout the countryside as the most anxious postman in existence. His hands shook so much that he often misdelivered mail, sending birthday cards to funeral homes and tax notices to toddlers.
“Package!” Ditto echoed, though he seemed more interested in batting at Percy’s shoelaces.
Percy handed the package to the farmer, who accepted it with his usual absent-minded grin. “Thank you, Percy,” the farmer said, oblivious to the postman’s trembling. “I’m sure this will be… something.”
Percy nodded, his eye twitching. “Y-y-you’re welcome! I’ll just b-b-be on my way now!” And with that, he scurried back to his truck, which sputtered and coughed before lurching back down the road.
The Seeds of Chaos
The farmer, ever the eccentric, wasted no time in opening the package. Inside were a handful of exotic seeds, each one glowing faintly and emitting a soft hum. “Fascinating,” the farmer muttered, holding one up to the light. “I wonder what they’ll grow into.”
“Grow into!” Ditto echoed, though he seemed more interested in chewing on the packaging.
The farmer planted the seeds in a patch of soil near the barn, watering them with a mixture of pond water and what appeared to be leftover coffee. The animals watched with mild curiosity, though Sir Whiskerton couldn’t shake the feeling that something was… off.
The next morning, the farm awoke to a scene of utter botanical bedlam. The seeds had sprouted overnight, growing into bizarre, fast-growing plants that defied all logic. There were flowers that sang opera, vines that danced the tango, and a particularly aggressive shrub that seemed determined to hug everyone it encountered.
“What in the name of cluck is going on?!” Doris the Hen squawked, narrowly avoiding a vine that was attempting to braid her feathers.
“Cluck!” Harriet echoed, flapping her wings in alarm.
“Wings!” Lillian added, fainting dramatically onto a pile of hay.
Sir Whiskerton surveyed the scene, his monocle glinting in the sunlight. “This,” he declared, “is a problem.”
The Botanical Invasion
The plants continued to grow at an alarming rate, spreading across the farm like a green tidal wave. The opera flowers belted out arias at ear-splitting volumes, the tango vines twirled around the barnyard, and the hugging shrub had already ensnared Porkchop the Pig, who didn’t seem to mind.
“This is… actually kind of nice,” Porkchop said, patting the shrub’s leaves. “It’s like a leafy hug.”
“Leafy hug!” Ditto echoed, though he seemed more interested in chasing a dancing vine.
Even Bessie the Tie-Dye Cow, the farm’s unofficial therapist, was at a loss. “Like, I’m all for embracing nature, man,” she said, her mood ring glowing a confused shade of purple, “but this is getting out of hand.”
Sir Whiskerton knew he had to act fast. “We need to find out where these seeds came from,” he said, adjusting his monocle. “And we need to do it before the farm becomes a botanical circus.”
The Search for Percy
Sir Whiskerton and Ditto set off in search of Percy, following the faint trail of tire tracks left by his sputtering mail truck. They found him at the local post office, pacing back and forth and muttering to himself.
“P-p-perhaps I should’ve double-checked the address,” Percy was saying, wringing his hands. “Or maybe I should’ve just quit while I was ahead. Oh, what a mess!”
“Mess!” Ditto echoed, though he seemed more interested in playing with a stray rubber band.
Sir Whiskerton cleared his throat. “Percy,” he said, “we need to talk about those seeds you delivered.”
Percy jumped, his eye twitching violently. “S-s-seeds? Oh no, were they the wrong ones? I knew I should’ve double-checked the label! I’m such a failure!”
“Failure!” Ditto echoed, though he seemed to be trying to cheer Percy up by batting at his shoelaces.
Sir Whiskerton placed a calming paw on Percy’s knee. “You’re not a failure, Percy. But we do need your help. Those seeds have turned the farm into a botanical nightmare, and we need to know where they came from.”
Percy took a deep breath, his trembling hands clutching his mailbag. “O-okay. I’ll help. But I’m not very good at… well, anything.”
“Nonsense,” Sir Whiskerton said. “You’re a postman. You know how to deliver. And right now, we need you to deliver us some answers.”
The Solution
With Percy’s help, Sir Whiskerton traced the seeds back to a mysterious botanist who specialized in exotic plants. The botanist, a reclusive figure with a penchant for dramatic flair, had accidentally sent the seeds to the wrong address.
“Ah, yes,” the botanist said, stroking his long beard. “Those seeds were meant for my experimental garden. They’re quite… lively, aren’t they?”
“Lively!” Ditto echoed, though he seemed more interested in chewing on the botanist’s beard.
The botanist provided Sir Whiskerton with a special solution—a potion made from moonlight, mint, and a dash of existential dread. When sprinkled on the plants, it would return them to their normal, non-singing, non-dancing state.
The Moral of the Story
As the farm returned to normal, the animals gathered to reflect on the day’s events.
The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: Don’t let stereotypes define who you are. Percy, despite his chronic case of the jitters, proved that even the most anxious among us can rise to the occasion. And the plants, though chaotic, reminded us that life is full of surprises—some of which are worth embracing.
A Happy Ending
Percy, now a local hero, returned to his mail route with newfound confidence. The farmer, ever the eccentric, decided to keep one of the opera flowers as a pet. And Sir Whiskerton returned to his sunbeam, content in the knowledge that he had once again saved the day.
And so, dear reader, we leave our heroes with the promise of new adventures, new challenges, and hopefully, no more botanical invasions. Until next time, may your days be filled with laughter, love, and just a little bit of feline genius.
The End.
Russia has specifically indicated they will intervene militarily if the US attempts to seize the Panama Canal. How might this scenario play out, given China’s close military involvement with Panama as well, and Mexico’s clear commitment to Panama?
This is entirely speculation, but Panama has indicated since Trump has become president, that they are more interested in siding with the U.S. than China. So I have a strong suspicion that the U.S. will get whatever we want from Panama with diplomacy rather than by seizing it.
But I don’t believe that either China or Russia is capable of projecting their power that far away from home, at least right now. And China has a lot more to gain from saving it’s military to invade Taiwan and Russia needs to rebuild its military after it’s invasion of Ukraine, so Panama’s destiny is far from a priority for either of them — especially since the US has never tried to close the Canal against any country.
Husband Made Sacrifices For His Family But Cheatin Wife Threw Away The Family, Now Her Tears Wont…
What is the most messed up thing you have ever done?
I’ve done a lot of messed up things in life. This is one example.
When I was 12 years old in Grade 7 a bigger kid at school named David kept bullying me, day after day, week after week. At the time I was probably the smallest kid in the class and relatively new to Australia. I was a late bloomer and I didn’t reach adult height until 18 or so. I was at a loss how to handle this situation as the bully was much bigger than me. He was thick set and muscular for his age, yet kind of fat too. He kind of reminded me of a thickset, overweight bulldog. He was from a wealthy family, he had lots of confidence as well as friends, and was very cocky/arrogant.
One day as I was sitting at my desk eating my lunch, like a scene out of a bad B grade American high school movie, David the bully came up behind me acting like a smart ass. A few of his mates were lurking in the background. He sat down next to me and began attacking me with his usual racist slurs. I tried to ignore him and get on with eating my lunch.
With disdain he began to search amongst my personal belongings. He found a metal compass (the ones that have a sharp metal point with which you draw circles with). Aiming to further insult and provoke me, he began to poke the drawing compass into my sandwiches while his mates snickered in the background. All I wanted was to be left alone to eat my lunch in peace, but he wouldn’t stop.
After a minute or two of this I was frustrated and upset. But something in me snapped. I’d simply had enough of his bullying. Without thinking about it (and without thinking about consequences), in one swift move I snatched the compass out of his hand and stabbed him hard and deep into the back of his hand, which happened to be resting on the wooden table. After he extracted the compass out of his hand (the fleshy area between the thumb and index finger) he was clearly in shock. He called me all sorts of names and he yelled that this was ‘going to continue outside’ in the schoolyard. I was scared but I was angry enough to take him on in a fight to put an end to his reign of bullying.
Once outside in the schoolyard the fight started and lots of kids gathered around the fight like seagulls attracted to discarded chips on a beach. It was my first real fight. I was only a little kid but I fought him like a crazed, wild animal and I gave just as good as I got. I drew on all the pent up anger that was inside of me, from all the bullying I’d been on the receiving end from him and others like him. It was payback time. My punches were connecting hard with his face and body. I punched and kicked. He punched and kicked me. I grappled, wrestled and punched some more. I was a little kid with a lot of fight in me.
At the end of the fight (probably stopped by a teacher, I don’t recall exactly) with blood running from his nose, his mouth (and likely mine too) and his previously skewered hand, in a quivering voice he said, ‘Y…y..you’re crazy’. In that moment I knew that he’d met his match. And I could see by the expression (and the blood) on his face that he knew that he picked the wrong day to pick on me. It was a great victory for me.
David the bully never bothered me again.
Have you ever walked into your office and noticed a sound that you thought was suspicious? What happened?
I worked at little 2 (3 with me) man auto shop when I was 14. It was the owner, my Uncle Joe , and me. I got all the work they didn’t want to do. Like cleaning out the pits, custodial stuff, mowing/snow shoveling, etc. Pulling into the shop on my bike I noticed the owners truck was there so I wouldn’t have to wait for him to get back and unlock the shop. As the i walk in the building I hear a dog barking, sounded kinda close but didn’t think anything of it. I go to the office, which is located at the back of the building to get my marching orders for the day. Through the open window I can still hear that dog barking. It sounded really close, like it was coming from the fenced in lot behind the shop. Close enough that I could hear there was something not right about that bark. I go put the back door and by the third ‘bark’ I figured it out. It wasn’t a bark, it was a human voice. A jack had collapsed with my boss under a car and he was yelling ‘HELP’ as best as he could with a car on his chest. I ran back in and called 911. He broke some ribs, a collarbone , and an arm.
Have you ever dreamed of green fields?
Submitted into Contest #290 in response to: Center your story around a first or last kiss.… view prompt
Ákos Kölber
He desires real interaction, but deep down, he doesn’t even realize that he is driven by a long-forgotten, deeper feeling—love.
Before the meeting, he chants to himself, “Please be real! Please be real!” Not an old, homeless T-series Android, who doesn’t know what to do with itself and pretends to be human.
The hour arrives, and he meets Lara, a slightly malnourished blonde who looked barely 20 years old, almost albino in appearance.
According to her, her situation is far from ideal, she was destined for a breeding program among the moguls to prevent inbreeding.
They would pump her with desire enhancers and hormones to make her obedient and fertile. Once she produces enough offspring, she can be sent back to the streets or to the incubator fields.
You only hear rumors about the moguls, supposedly they live on their own islands outside the metropolises, they don’t breathe smog, they eat real food. They don’t tap incubator colonies for synthetic protein rations. They have a real life, not just dreams like Damine’s or illusions like the “battery” people floating in their jars.
In person, Lara truly seems like the innocent, sentient being he met in the old-fashioned chat room. They spend wonderful hours together, running around the streets laughing freely like children and dancing in the improvised rain created by the faulty irrigation systems.
Damien pleads to himself again, “Please be real! Please be real!” Not because of Lara’s identity, but so that this is a real experience, not a side effect of the Incubus drug he uses in his loneliest and lowest hours.
Using the maintenance elevator, he takes Lara to his secret place at the very top of one of the incubator complexes, on the roof, high above the smog. Here you can see the real sunrise, the sunset and sometimes the stars on clear days.
In this place, he has experienced his most beautiful moments, where for a brief time he could feel that there was a meaning to getting up or simply breathing. They talk all night, and at dawn, they look at the clouds and let their imaginations run wild, wondering what they see in the clouds. They talk about whether they dream.
Lara asks, “Have you ever dreamed of green fields?”
There were indeed occasions when he dreamed of green landscapes, after delving into holo images and archives.
The first emotional and physical experience of his life reaches it’s peak when he kisses Lara during the rising sun. He feels that this is the moment worth living for, why he chose the painful reality, loneliness and misery. Rather than succumbing to the convenient illusion of floating in a jar and generating thermal and kinetic energy for the public, as expected of a good citizen.
“Please be real! Please be real!” This is what he chants to himself at the moment of the kiss and at the same time in the last moment of his life.
Just a small sting in the back of the head and it was over. He was already dead before his body hit the ground. The probe, which has followed them all along, never misses.
Lara is a new generation cyborg bred to hunt down outsiders like Damien, so that the last remnants of humanity that wanted to live would disappear from the big corporations or someone simply needed new organs.
This was her first routine diagnostic and collection mission. Because of her conditioning, she was not even aware of her own identity. Lara was incapable of taking any action; her cerebral implants blocked her body from any further interaction and began transferring the collected data for analysis.
Her blood-stained face was streaked with tears, and the memory of the sunrise and the kiss flashed in her eyes one last time. After evaluating the data, she switched back to standby mode and erased her memory – this was the procedure to prevent her from becoming too human.
While the probe harvested the usable internal organs from Damien’s lifeless body, the final moment of his life replayed endlessly in his eyes and deep within his consciousness.
“Please be real! Please be real! Just this once, let me truly live, just once!”
MEMORY DELETION IN PROGRESS.
PROGRESS CORRUPTED.
TASK INCOMPLETE.
For liberals and leftists, what is your opinion on the “self-made man”?
How about conservatives and right wingers? You guys detest Joe Biden and he is the very essence of a self-made man.
Donald Trump got his start with a $400 million gift from daddy. Hillary rode her husband’s coattails to prominence. Andrew Cuomo, Mitt Romney, GW Bush, even Bobby Kennedy Jr. all benefitted from family political connections.
Joe Biden’s dad was a used car salesman. His mother was a stay-at-home housewife. Joe Biden started with nothing, no money, no famous name, zilch, and achieved high office purely on his own merits. I know you think he’s corrupt, but even so (and ignoring the issue of your admiring Trump for exactly the same transgressions), he meets far better than anyone on the Republican side the definition of a self-made man.
To paraphrase the Emperor Tiberius, Joe Biden is his own illustrious ancestor.
Black Eyes of Texas Casserole
Ingredients
- 2 pounds ground beef
- 1 large onion, chopped
- 1 rib celery, chopped
- 1 (15 ounce) can jalapeño black-eyed peas
- 1 can cream of chicken soup
- 1 can cream of mushroom soup
- 1 can hot or mild enchilada sauce
- 1 teaspoon garlic powder
- 1 (10 1/2 ounce) bag tortilla chips
- 3 cups grated cheese
Instructions
- Brown and drain meat.
- Add onion, black-eyed peas, celery, soups, enchilada sauce and garlic. Stir to blend.
- Grease 1 large or 2 small casserole dishes.
- Build up layers beginning with the chips, then the meat and then the cheese.
- Repeat process.
- Bake at 450 degrees F for 35 minutes.
Have you ever been hospitalized after seeing the doctor for something you didn’t think was serious?
Yes. Get a cup of coffee and settle in. This may take a while.
It was during the infamous Lockdown of 2020. Like millions of other people, I was sent home from the office with instructions to work from home for at least the following two weeks. I kept to my regular work schedule, read, occasionally watched television (I’m very picky about what I watch), attended livestreamed Mass, and wrote. I also visited with my dad and stepmom, who live right upstairs from me and were therefore in my “bubble”. At the same time, I noticed I was very fatigued, overheated, thirsty, and making frequent visits to the bathroom.
At the same time, thanks to a very lazy (now-ex) husband, I had cut back on most of my medications to try to save money. Very, very foolish of me. I had discontinued my blood pressure, cholesterol, triglyceride, and some of my diabetes medications, leaving only my two antidepressants and metformin. I should have seen what happened coming.
Friday, May 15th, 2020, I woke up feeling very, very sick. (You tend to remember the date when your whole world changes.) My stomach hurt, and I felt more exhausted than I ever had; it felt like someone had draped two or three wet blankets over me. Around 8:45 a.m., I called the office manager (who is also a very good friend, enough that I consider her two daughters my nieces), and asked if I could start an hour or two late that day to get a little more rest. OM normally doesn’t like when people call out sick, but I must have sounded sick, because she immediately said, “Go online, retrieve anything that downloaded in the last twenty-four hours, go back to bed, and stay there. Call me every few hours and let me know how you’re doing. And make sure you take some organic apple cider vinegar!” Yes, OM is a devotee of holistic and alternative medicine.
So I did as I was told. I also called my health insurance’s telehealth services and told them I thought I was having a gastritis attack, because I’m prone to them. The doctor sent an order to my local pharmacy for prescription-strength Pepcid and told me to follow up with my GP in a few days; I might have to see a gastroenterologist for an upper GI endoscopy. The medication arrived, and I started taking it as instructed, but it didn’t do a darn thing.
Around 5:00 p.m., I took another dose of apple cider vinegar. Almost immediately, I threw it back up. Thinking that I would start to recover, as I did after previous attacks, I went back to bed, but couldn’t sleep – I was hot, restless, in pain, and felt sick overall. I tried going upstairs to my dad and stepmom and staying near them for a while, but wound up going back downstairs. I poured myself a small glass of Coca-Cola, thinking it would relieve what I thought was gas, but I didn’t even finish it before vomiting again.
Now I started to suspect this might be more than gastritis. I spent an almost sleepless night and contacted the telehealth service again. The doctor returning my requested snapped at me, “You have to give the Pepcid time to work!” I tried to tell him this felt like more than the usual gastritis, but he wasn’t having it. Crazily, I went back to my desk and tried to work, to catch up on what was missed from the day before, while also trying to eat a sugar-free Popsicle. Good thing I had a bucket nearby, because I threw up yet again.
It occurred to me… if you can’t hold down half a sugar-free Popsicle, you’ve got a bigger problem than a garden-variety stomach bug. So I did what I should have done in the first place… called my GP’s office and left a voicemail.
He called back immediately. I informed him of my symptoms. He said, “I don’t want to send you to the ER unless I have no other choice, because they’re packed to the rafters with COVID patients, and I don’t want you to go there for something minor and come home with that. I’m not in my office today, and it would take me a while to get there. Have someone take you to an urgent care center right away, and they’ll evaluate you and decide what to do from there.”
Well, useless hubby didn’t drive, and we didn’t exactly have money for a taxi or Uber. Thankfully, my dad was able to give me a lift to urgent care. That was when I found out that you know you’re sick when they take you before everyone else (but not before taking your insurance info and co-payment). One check of the blood sugar – 469 – and the physician’s assistant told me I was going to the emergency room, with the only choices being which hospital and the mode of transportation. I wound up going by ambulance.
It didn’t take long for the ER doctor to make the diagnoses. Yes, plural. I had diabetic ketoacidosis, pancreatitis, gastritis, and duodenitis. I spent twelve days in the hospital – the first twenty-four hours in the emergency room waiting for an ICU bed to open up, six days in ICU, then another five days in general medicine before being discharged on ten different medications, including short- and long-acting insulin (and strict orders not to skip medications ever again), and a strict low-carb diet. Lesson learned.
Got home to find out useless hubby had trashed the place (and later found out he was cheating on me while I was fighting for my life), but that’s a whole other story. Almost five years later, I’ve lost almost sixty pounds (and almost two hundred pounds of useless husband), and thanks to an endocrinologist I met while hospitalized who was willing to switch meds around, my blood sugar’s been holding in the eighties for the last two years. I’ve never felt better in my life.
(The Twilight Zone) Chosen
Is it time for the US to help Cuba, or do we continue to listen to Miami Cubans after four generations or should we concede it to China?
The US to help Cuba? 🤣
Didn’t the Americans help Cuba in the 1980s?
In 1980, Cuba sent 150,000 mentally ill people, criminals, prostitutes and hooligans to the United States to become “refugees”, and the Cuban Government emptied its own mental hospitals and prisons, while the United States was faced with the problem of the century.
Mass migration of Cubans to the US in 1980 The Mariel boatlift ( Spanish : éxodo del Mariel ) was a mass emigration of Cubans who traveled from Cuba 's Mariel Harbor to the United States between April 15 and October 31, 1980. The term " Marielito " is used to refer to these refugees in both Spanish and English . While the exodus was triggered by a sharp downturn in the Cuban economy , it followed on the heels of generations of Cubans who had immigrated to the United States in the preceding decades. After 10,000 Cubans tried to gain asylum by taking refuge on the grounds of the Peruvian embassy, the Cuban government announced that anyone who wanted to leave could do so. The ensuing mass migration was organized by Cuban Americans , with the agreement of Cuban President Fidel Castro . The Cuban government considered the exodus a sort of social cleansing of the nations' so-called undesirables and organized acts of repudiation against prospective emigrants. The arrival of the refugees in the United States created political problems for U.S. President Jimmy Carter . The Carter administration struggled to develop a consistent response to the immigrants. The Mariel boatlift was ended by mutual agreement between the two governments in late October 1980. By then, an estimated 125,000 Cubans had reached Florida . Cuba–United States relations [ edit ] In the late 1970s, U.S. President Jimmy Carter sought to improve relations with Cuba . He lifted all restrictions on travel to Cuba, and in September 1977, both countries established an Interests Section in each other's capital. However, relations were still strained because Cuba supported the Soviet Union 's military interventions in Africa and the Middle East with their own. [ 1 ] The two countries struggled to reach agreement on a relaxation of the US embargo on trade to permit the export of a select list of medicines to Cuba without provoking Carter's political opponents in the US Congress . [ 2 ] Ten members of Congress visited Cuba in December 1978, and the Cuban government later released Frank C. Emmick, the US manager of a business in Cuba who had been prevented from leaving in 1963, accused of being a CIA agent, and sentenced to 50 years in prison. [ 3 ] A group of 55 people whose parents brought them from Cuba returned for three weeks in December 1978 in a rare instance of Cuba allowing the return of Cuban-born émigrés. [ 4 ] In December 1978, both countries agreed upon their maritime border, and the next month, they were working on an agreement to improve their communications in the Straits of Florida . The US responded to Cuban relaxation of restrictions on emigration by allowing Cuban-Americans to send up to $500 to an emigrating relative (equal to $2,400 in 2023). [ 5 ] In November 1978, Castro's government met in Havana with a group of Cubans living in exile, agreed to grant an amnesty to 3,600 political prisoners, and announced that they would be freed in the course of the next year and allowed
The United States claims to be a “free and democratic” country, and as long as you come to the United States, you will have gold everywhere, and you can get three big meals a day and live in a villa every day by scrubbing dishes.
“There is no discrimination, no oppression, everyone is equal and can live a good life.”
This is for a long time by the United States sanctions, material scarcity of the Cubans, the temptation to pull directly full.
Castro thought of a countermeasure, since the United States wants to pull the Cuban people, then I will fulfill the United States, only the good people can not give you, rotten people want as much as possible.
In 1980, Castro announced that Cuba would open up the port of Mariel, and that all residents who wanted to leave Cuba would be able to leave the country by boat in April. And Castro pardoned a large number of prisoners and sent them to the port of Mariel to “go abroad”.
Soon, the port of Mariel gathered a large number of Cuban people, although there are also a certain number of civilians, but compared with criminals, mental illness, etc. Very few.
Castro was overjoyed, worrying that these people could not be dealt with and that it would cost money to stay in the country.
The Americans don’t know what’s going on in Cuba, only that Cubans are pouring into the U.S., and they think Castro is crazy.
Naturally, they do not know the power of this group of psychopaths and criminals, otherwise the Americans would probably have to set up machine guns at the national border.
Even, in order to receive these people, the United States enacted a special Cuban Act. Any Cuban who comes to the United States can settle in the United States in place, which is a great temptation.
However, the U.S. soon realized that the situation had gotten out of hand and things were not as simple as they thought. On the contrary, on Castro’s side, they had all been happy, and even though there was some outflow from the civilians, it was a drop in the bucket compared to these criminals.
And so Castro has just as easily turned Cuba’s problems into America’s problems.
The Americans thought that the high benefits would attract tons of highly qualified Cuban talent, but what they ended up attracting were tons of criminals.
As the saying goes, ‘Florida Man must have a skill.’
The direct cause of Florida’s chaos is these “highly qualified people” from Cuba.
Miami Cubans after four generations — Florida Man!
Will 2025 be China’s tech breakout year, where Chinese companies move ahead of their western competitors?
YES! Huawei is in trial tests of a Chinese EUV lithography machine capable of 3nm chips. If it has decent yields and the cost is similar to its plasma light source, this Chinese EUV could be less than half the price of ASML. Media reports say production is scheduled for 2026, so that would be earth shattering in the silicon semiconductor sector. This machine could be the cutting edge China emerges with a complete supply chain to produce in the whole range of node sizes. Further, graphene seems to be making headways as China begins production of graphene chips. Photonic chips, glass substrate chips, and quantum chips will pop up from time to time so 2025 will be an auspicious year for the Chinese semiconductor sector.
The US should be shocked if the above events happen because the American government will look like the AI sector when Deepseek bubbled up. The billions the US spent on transplanting high end chips to the US might find itself outpriced, outproduced, and outinnovated by the Chinese.
As a teacher, have you ever met the parents of a misbehaving student, and suddenly realized why the student behaves that way?
I taught at a prestigious private school. The students had wealthy, affluent parents. There was a student (I’ll call him Red) who, like some other students, made it well-known of the ‘power’ he owned at the school.
He would belittle and degrade other students and carried himself with confidence. Red was a talkative student. His grades were impeccable in every class, and Red was athletic and attractive for a boy his age; he knew that. It was one of the reasons why he had so many friends and had multiple girlfriends.
But you couldn’t read him. He was expressionless most of them time, and he would randomly blank out in the middle of class. He always put what I call an ‘emotionless mask’.
“You are a nobody, just a loser who won’t amount to anything in your life. You are worthless and pathetic. No cares about you.” This is what he said to one of his classmates.
At this point, I lost all my patience and snapped at him. I told him that I would call his parents if he didn’t stop with the persistent bullying and horrid attitude. Most of the time students never take this threat seriously, of course he didn’t believe me.
I called them, and we met after school. Red realized this when he found his parents sitting on the chairs in my class. All the color drained from his face, and he sat down timidly. His parents were fueled with anger before I had said anything. His confident and righteous demeanor was suddenly gone.
I explained the situation to them. His father glared at his son and repeated the exact words that Red had said to his classmate. His mother kept complaining about how Red had forced them out of work, and how he was so stupid to act like that. Red apologized to his parents.
Now I understood why he acted the way he did; it was a learned behavior, and while it is not okay, it is most likely how he grew up. Parents, children learn from you, they act and are inspired by you. All it takes is a little bit of love and understanding to make happy children.
Can I write down the “big description” of my model which in trillions, billions, millions or thousands years ago (I don’t know about the “year”, but only will guess if I try to write the “years of time”) and keep going, then now?
And also about my goal of which include the big direction of The Domain forces in before and to the in future?
The “time”s to me, are “long time(s?) ago”. I care about my history, right now and the future, but not such care about the exactly how many (of this Earth’s) years ago. I cared about the years, but those’re helpless to me right now, and the numbers that I can only on guess.
In this comments that I don’t know how to write the “preposition” well.
I’m actually want to write it, and I think it’s time for write it, except that if Domain Commander, MM, or someone or somepeople who is/are the Domain Commander (be) trust(ed), whatever what the level of whom is/are.
It would paint on the paper of some/many/part(s) of that I didn’t see so far on MM informations. Though I know that (t)here’re many MM informations I didn’t read, it’s need years if I’m keep doing so.
Blaming: I’ve thought about write it down before I found MM website. That I made the big things, but I can’t have money by that.
I know that we can do Affirmation Campaigns, but it’s difficult to me. Beside, I’m much better on make/made/making the model. Though my model doesn’t have “get money to me” on it. I even tried on writting the articles of what I was in believe, and would publish it in somewhere I don’t know – as the sci-fi story maybe would get me money, though it’s absolutly not worth on if getting money on this, and my English level is much lower than the professional authors; or as the articles for showing the important things that Earth’s people should read, from parts of it and far going, so of shape of the recovery. Though I never finish it and deleted on of I start in reading MM informations. I didn’t know before that if there’re something on the old description wrong or far apart from the “real”, I thought there’re some but I couldn’t recognize, so that’s one of the reasons I made the guide and set it earlier, then MM informations was caming on. (This is in my view, I don’t know what’s the complex groups of things behind and which I didn’t read on MM informations.)
The new article I’m going to write is in Traditional Chinese, thought I will do translation to English. But, maybe you know, that I’m not such good in English. This will be the new description (big description) of the model with more entension of it.