I really enjoy line drawings.
And I have collected a number of them.
I really like them, and I have always liked them.
Part of it is my love of art, and my designer draftsman training. I just love pen and pencil art with watercolor fill ins. However, of course, it’s all done on computer these days,
Sort of like this…
So today, I have some “line drawing art” porn.
Please enjoy…
Nice huh?
It carries you off to another world.
The art illustration…
The real thing…
But, you know, I really… REALLY love this style.
In fact, during the 1980’s I had a picture of a cat in this style. So lovely…
This one has one of my favorite Korean alcohols.
I love the grapefruit version…
And this style goes way back to the 1950’s and 1960’s…
Nice…
And we will close with this…
Today…
I’ve heard horror stories about the Canadian healthcare system. As an American, I’d like to clear this up, are you helped immediately if you have a stroke, heart attack, or any form of cancer, even at a public hospital?
A couple of relevant stories:
When my parents were still alive they lived in Canada and when my mother fell and broke her hip my father managed to get her into the house on his own and then called 911 – an ambulance took her to the hospital and she was seen by an orthopod for a hip replacement. While this was happening my father told me what was happening and I did everything a son was supposed to do – meaning booked flights to get me there asap. The one thing I didn’t have to do is worry about how to pay for this – fact is, the only out of pocket expense my father had to cover was parking fees at the hospital parking lot.
Fast forward many years until my wife and I had retired to Canada. My wife has glaucoma and during her last scheduled visit with her doctor she was diagnosed with a detached retina. This was about 10:00 a.m. on a Wednesday morning. By 1:00 that afternoon she was being seen by a specialist who scheduled her for surgery on Friday morning. We spent all day Thursday going thru the usual tests to confirm that she wasn’t going to have a heart attack on the table and so forth. She was in for surgery at 9:30 on Friday morning and her first followup was Saturday morning. The only charges we had to cover at the hospital was parking on Saturday because the free lot was already full.
Rednote EXPOSES the Truth: Americans Say China’s Better… And the US is a 3rd World Country!
What happens when Americans discover the truth about life in China?
In this jaw-dropping Rednote compilation, we bring you raw and unfiltered reactions as Americans learn how the Chinese afford groceries, healthcare, and more—without drowning in debt.
From shock to frustration, many even claim that America feels like a 3rd world country compared to China’s advancements.
Watch as they grapple with the reality of China’s thriving society and question their own situation back home.
Will this change their perspective? You’ll have to see their reactions to believe it!
How long has China been keeping its money tied to the U.S. dollar? Has there been any repercussions from America for China’s continuous devaluation of its currency?
Chinese yuan is not tied to the dollar. It is tied to a basket of currencies in which the dollar is one of them.
The yuan is not in continuous depreciation of the dollar. It is the opposite.
Strength of the dollar in the last 2 years was due to the Fed’s interest hikes. Its exchange value is now under pressure.
Eternity and the Kettle Song
Submitted into Contest #287 in response to: Start or end your story with a character making a cup of tea for themself or someone else.… view prompt
Hugh Bezemer
My parents were surprised but satisfied, proud and relieved, as parents of physicists tend to be, when I moved here to CERN following my studies.
The first song I heard had not been mine. It was the bridge between you and the fixed point to which you travelled, each small vibration mapping the decisions you’d make, the people you’d love, every detail down to the rakish angle of a stray eyebrow hair you’d grow in your late thirties.
The next was mine. Once I had tuned myself to that frequency it became quite simple. Over the years I’ve gone through the necessary terminology of quarks, lectured on quantum entanglement, buttered up the right engineers and research institutes. I don’t like to brag, but if this didn’t work and tomorrow arrives, the Pentagon would scarcely be able to afford a single pair of camouflage bike shorts, or whatever else it is they spend their massive budget on.
I’m sure this will never be read but if it is I am sorry, dear reader, today I feel like letting it all out, as these languid celebratory polemics, despite their futility. It has been a long time since an entry in this journal has been so necessary or so blissfully self-indulgent. I’ve been pontificating. I’ve tended to recapitulate and adapt the research of my colleagues, ventilate about their parochial focus, or half-heartedly meditate on my designs. I also sometimes write an entertaining parody of Dr. Žižek, who believes I will singlehandedly bring about the cessation of existence. The old fool would miss his imported cheese and pickles very dearly. None of it worthy. Tomorrow, however, is special, it will be for a while the 31st of January 2054, until I decide that it is again the 31st of January 2025. They will never know that I have built and will build again and again, an instrument on which only I can play out the perfect tune of time.
It’s funny, you thought all those seemingly arbitrary coincidences excluded the possibility of God, but in many senses, I have become an intentional and conscious creator. I call the next round. You wouldn’t understand the working or the proofs, but for you it probably suffices as an explanation to say that there will always be a rubber band that fixes you and your destiny. You will in every instance follow your band and tomorrow, when I press my rather comical big red button (you would have loved the facility I’ve designed), I get to decide how hard to strum the rubber. I couldn’t spare myself that small luxury.
So, when the world is reborn on that first morning that I chose to forget you, I’ll sit in the warm sun, waiting for slow swirls to seep from my teabag, I’ll be met with a distinct chord and, without knowing what I’ve done, my eyes will glow with the mischief you claimed to love. I’ll whistle each subtly distinct note of the happy Sisyphus you’ll have to learn to be on a given go-round, lingering in the moment where I sip from my steaming mug and set myself on the path to divinity.
Why did Elon Musk call Apple Inc. the Tesla graveyard?
When Prince died a few years ago, he left 8,000 songs. I don’t mean a few jotted-down lyrics. I mean completely recorded, produced songs ready for distribution. The former Spotify executive who was tasked with managing this part of the estate, publicly estimated that there were hundreds of album’s worth of material.
There are singer/songwriters. Then there is Prince.
I note this because most people just have no idea what motivates the best engineers on the planet. We actually have a label for them. 10x engineers. People who are ten times more productive than their colleagues. They are to their professions what Prince was to modern music.
They don’t do it for the money. They do it because the project is cool.
In 2015, when Musk said this, Apple was thinking they could build an electric car and gild it with Apple’s taste in industrial design. Naturally, they were trying to hire Tesla engineers, who were at the cutting edge of all the requisite technologies.
The thing is, you can’t actually hire away the best engineers, because talented engineers are motivated by the cutting edge, the chance to create something new in the world. Apple is a lot like Microsoft in the sense that they don’t invent new technology, they repackage it. Apple for the luxury market, Microsoft for the corporate customer. This isn’t a criticism. Both models work very well and are very profitable, but they don’t appeal to 10x engineers.
So, in the final analysis, Musk was simple stating a simple truth. Apple wasn’t getting Tesla’s braintrust, they were getting passionless engineers more motivated by the hygiene (financial benefits) than the actual work.
I’ve seen this my entire career, in fact, I’ve been that guy. I quit two jobs because I just wasn’t excited about what the company was doing. By all rights, I should be retired right now, but my job is just too much fun to surrender.
This isn’t to say those engineers that took the money are bad. In fact many of them are quite talented, but just like there are musicians and then there is Prince, there are talented engineers and then there are the legends.
I have little doubt that Apple failed because when the going got tough, they just didn’t have the insane engineers that could push the envelope.
We know that the company was named for Nicola Tesla, and I think most people assume that electricity is the connection, but perhaps the most salient commonality between the icon and his eponymous descendent is the passion and productivity they share.
Danish Pickled Cucumbers
(Syltede Agurker)
Ingredients
- 2 medium cucumbers, thinly sliced
- 1/3 cup cider vinegar
- 1/3 cup water
- 2 tablespoons granulated sugar
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 1/8 teaspoon pepper
- Minced dill weed or parsley
Instructions
- Place cucumbers in non-reactive bowl.
- Mix vinegar, water, sugar, salt and pepper; pour over cucumbers.
- Cover and refrigerate, stirring occasionally, at least 3 hours.
- Drain; sprinkle with dill weed.
How would you respond if your car was stolen?
Back around 1980 my beloved 1956 Chevy was stolen from out front of a pizzeria where I once worked. First it took some convincing from the guys I knew there that they didn’t hide it. Then I called the police to report it stolen.
Since this was pre cell phone, I stayed at the shop and gave the police that number to call me. I also called my father to advise him of the situation in case anyone called the house. Then I waited..
Maybe an hour later cops in the next town called to say they had it. It was sitting parked on a street and looked fine. I should sit tight and they’d call me back.
I sat for another hour and they called to say they lost the car! The cop who was sitting on it got an emergency call to answer. He came back and it was gone!
At that point the store was closing so I got a ride back home. The next day I got a call from another town that they had the car in impound. It had been abandoned in a field. Stereo and Cragar wheels missing. Some glass broken and seats slashed. I was heartbroken!
I bought some junkyard wheels, brought the car home and sold it.
THE CURE – JUST LIKE HEAVEN (40 LIVE – CURÆTION-25 + ANNIVERSARY)
Do you believe the imposed tariffs will benefit America in the long run?
A tariff is nothing less than a sales tax paid at the border by the buyer. So when Walmart imports TVs from China, it now pays a 10% sales tax (tariff, duty, import tax, pick your word) on the wholesale price of that TV. Walmart has to raise its price to cover that tax. Does it benefit you to pay an extra 10% for a TV? I doubt it. Here’s the deal though. trump is literally raising taxes on the middle class without saying he’s raising taxes. They’re invisible to the common man in Walmart. But with all those tariffs raising the general revenue, somebody’s gonna get a big fat tax cut. Guess who? Hint – It won’t be you.
Of course, it’s a lot more complicated than all that. After all, he’s demolishing America’s reputation, spitting in the eyes of our allies and giving warm hugs to communist dictators. Nothing good is going to come from this.
Where did you travel recently? What did you do adventure there?
A while back, I mentioned a couple of recent trips in an answer, and you guys were very curious to hear more about them! I promised I’d write a little recap at some point, and here I am to make good on my word. The first of my journeys took place in a remote Spanish wilderness, where I went in search of a very, very rare species.
My destination was Sierra de Andújar National Park, deep in the mountains of southern Spain. It’s one of the most wildlife-rich areas of Europe, home to an astounding array of fauna. Most amazingly of all, it’s one of just two places in the world where you can see the Iberian lynx, one of the rarest wildcats on the planet. I had just one day to attempt to find this elusive feline, so my search began before sunrise.
As daylight emerged, the mountains were clothed in a beautiful layer of mist. As it happened, it had been the coldest night all year in Sierra de Andújar, and much of the vegetation was covered in frost! Not the kind of scenery I was expecting when I took flight to southern Spain, but breathtaking nonetheless.
It wasn’t long before my first wildlife sightings. Grey herons and great cormorants perched in the boughs of trees by the river. Meanwhile, in the water itself, some beautiful Eurasian river otters were feeding! Though this species is technically native to my home city of Dublin, they’re extremely hard to spot here, so I had never actually seen a wild otter up until this point. Seeing them glide through the water effortlessly was such a tranquil sight!
I also saw this really cool spider web near the riverside:
And this distant Eurasian hoopoe! The Eurasian hoopoe is a glorious bird, not done justice by my photo. Its feathers are a cinnamon-orange colour, with black and white bars on the wings. Most notably of all, it’s got a huge crest of plumage on its head, almost like a mohawk! The species is actually most common in the more tropical regions of Africa and Asia, but also extends to Europe.
As midday approached, the lynx quest continued. Deep in a mountain valley, I managed to spot the Iberian lynx’s favourite food: a European rabbit. Though its name might suggest it is widespread, it’s actually only native to Spain, Portugal, and the southwest of France.
The diet of the lynx is made up almost entirely of rabbits. A male will usually eat about one a day. Despite being smaller, a female with cubs to feed needs three! As far as I could tell, this little guy hopped off to live another day. Who knows how he’s doing now…
I eventually found myself in a steep valley, with sheer rocky cliffs rising up on both sides. Here I was greeted by a spectacular sight: a herd of Iberian ibex! Masters of the mountains, these goat-like animals can ascend or descend impossible slopes with astonishing ease. Squishy, flexible pads in their hooves help them grip onto even the steepest terrain.
The herd crested over the ridge and then began to surge downward, leaping from rock to rock. I almost thought they were going to come all the way to the valley floor and greet me, but they dashed into a forested hillside and vanished as abruptly as they had appeared.
These two males decided to have a headbutting match on the precipice of the cliff. Just goes to show how little they fear the drop!
In the azure sky, some incredible birds were circling. I lost count of the number of cinereous vultures and Eurasian griffon vultures overhead. Both of these species are aerial titans, but the former is particularly magnificent. The wingspan of the cinereous vulture can measure over three metres across, and it can weigh up to 14 kilograms. This makes it one of the largest flying birds on the planet!
Due to their massive size, the vultures have to use a little help to stay in the air. Their wings catch thermals, immense columns of rising air found above ground that’s been heated by the sun. Thanks to this extra lift, they can soar all day long watching for carcasses to swoop down on. My photo shows a pair of griffons in tandem flight.
After a long time scanning the skies, I managed to spot some even rarer avians – a golden eagle and a Spanish imperial eagle, pictured on the left and right respectively. Both of these birds were flying at an incredibly high altitude, so even at maximum zoom my camera could only capture these blurry images.
It was still amazing to see them though! The golden eagle is one of the most impressive predators on Earth – a flying bird capable of taking down fully-grown sheep. The Spanish imperial eagle is not quite as gigantic nor as fierce, but it’s found only in Iberia, and is a rare sight even in its home range.
Another bird to be found in this spot was the Eurasian crag-martin. Not just one, but a whole colony of them! Crag-martins are unique because, as their name suggests, they live only on rocky cliff faces, where they meticulously build nests out of hundreds upon hundreds of mud pellets. This particularly large group had set up their village on an old dam! It’s always fascinating when human-made structures turn into habitats for wildlife.
I was also finding some unusual insect life. Coolest of all was this Mediterranean conehead praying mantis! It was hiding in a dead bush, camouflaged exceptionally well as a twig, so as not to be seen by its prey. I’m surprised I even managed to spot it.
Nearby was a striking Indian milkweed bug:
And this bizarre writhing mass of caterpillars, which I later identified as belonging to the Herculean processionary, an incredible type of moth. It gets its name from the way its caterpillars move in a single-file conga line, like a procession. These guys seemed to be taking a break from their parade, alas. The Latin name of the genus, Thaumatopoea, translates roughly to “marvellous achievement”.
After some more time searching, I finally came upon the Holy Grail – an Iberian lynx! It was extremely far away, initially spotted by local wildlife photographers who use powerful telephoto lenses to capture it. Thankfully my safari guide had a telescope setup so I was able to get a good look.
The lynx was basking in the sun, lying on a rock. Like most cat species, they spend most of their day at rest. Eventually, it got up, and strolled away across the grassy shrubland. This was really cool to witness, as precious few people get to see an Iberian lynx on the move. It had been so distant as to be invisible to the naked eye up till now, but thanks to its movements I could now make it out without any telescope or camera. Apologies for the poor photo!
It wasn’t even lunchtime at this point in the day, so I was absolutely thrilled to have already completed my main goal for the trip and observed a wild Iberian lynx. I still had a good five or six hours of daylight left so I pressed on and continued looking for wildlife! My journey led me to a lovely woodland whose dappled light hid a wide variety of animals.
This included this handsome red deer stag, one of the largest deer species in the world.
As well as these European fallow deer:
I also saw a stunning red fox, but it darted across the road before I could get a photo. Red foxes are a common sight where I live, but this was still an exciting encounter, because it belonged to a unique subspecies – the Iberian fox. This type lacks the iconic rusty red colour normally seen in this species, instead being a frosty grey! Interestingly, the standard European fox (the same subspecies we have here in Ireland) is also found in Spain, coexisting with its ashen cousin.
The next animal I ticked off was this Geniez’s wall lizard, which I found lying under a bush. Spain has a surprisingly diverse assemblage of reptile species, and while I unfortunately didn’t manage to spot any of its snakes, I was happy to come away with a nice lizard sighting.
Here’s another one!
There’s so much small life to be seen if your eyes are open to it, especially in a place like Sierra de Andújar. I went looking for bats in a tunnel, for example, and managed to find this adorable little mouse-eared bat! The tunnels here were carved out long ago by rather crude means – builders would drill down thin vertical chutes from atop the mountains, and drop sticks of dynamite down them. The explosions left a jagged, roughly hewn passageway.
As it turns out, what remains of the old dynamite chutes make the perfect roosting spots for bats like this guy. Another example of disused human structures turning into animal habitats!
Suddenly, we received word that there had been another Iberian lynx sighting by local photographers, in a different part of the area. We rushed to the scene of course, and there he was! A magnificent cat, curled up in a ball in the shade of trees. At the start of the day, I didn’t fancy my chances of seeing one lynx – the prospect of seeing two within a few hours of each other was incomprehensible!
This time he wasn’t quite as distant, though still barely more than a faraway blob to the naked eye. I managed to get some nice photos by holding my phone up to the telescope! He looks like he’s dreaming of rabbits…
After a while, he got up to stretch. This was amazing to see – the way he dropped his chest to the ground and leaned back onto his back legs reminded me so much of my dog back home, doing that “greeting stretch” canines so often do. One couldn’t help but say “biiiiiig stretchhh” at the sight. It was the perfect way to end a day full of breathtaking wildlife encounters.
The second of my wildlife-focused trips this year was a little further afield, to the Arctic Circle! That one will have to wait for another answer though, I think, it’s getting late. I went on both of these trips with some friends from college who also love animals – I’m very grateful to have them! Thank you everyone for reading. I know it’s not my usual type of answer, so I hope it was still enjoyable! Have a great day.
Sir Whiskerton and Beekeeper Beatrice’s Bumbling Bees: A Tale of Stings, Honey, and Sweet Lessons
Ah, dear reader, prepare yourself for a tale of buzzing chaos, sticky situations, and one very determined cat who saved the farm from a honey-covered disaster. Today’s story is one of mishaps, growth, and the importance of patience and care. So, grab your beekeeper suit (or a jar of honey, if you must), as we dive into Sir Whiskerton and Beekeeper Beatrice’s Bumbling Bees: A Tale of Stings, Honey, and Sweet Lessons.
The Arrival of Beekeeper Beatrice
It all began on a sunny morning, just as the farm was waking up to the gentle hum of bees buzzing around the hives. The animals were going about their usual routines—Doris the Hen was clucking about the latest gossip, Rufus the Dog was chasing his tail (as usual), and Sir Whiskerton was perched on the barn roof, surveying his domain with a satisfied flick of his tail.
But something was different. A new figure had arrived on the farm—a human wearing a wide-brimmed hat, a flowing dress, and a pair of gloves that looked far too big for her hands. She carried a smoker in one hand and a jar of honey in the other, her face beaming with enthusiasm.
“Good morning, everyone!” she called out, her voice cheerful but slightly nervous. “I’m Beatrice, the new beekeeper. I’m here to tend to your hives and make sure your bees are happy and healthy!”
The animals exchanged curious glances. “A beekeeper?” Doris squawked, flapping her wings. “What in the name of cluck is a beekeeper doing here?”
“Beekeeper!” Harriet echoed, tilting her head.
“Bees!” Lillian added, fainting dramatically onto a pile of hay.
Sir Whiskerton leapt down from the barn roof and approached Beatrice, his tail flicking with curiosity. “Welcome to the farm, Miss Beatrice. I am Sir Whiskerton, the resident detective and problem solver. We appreciate your assistance with the bees, but I must warn you—they can be quite… spirited.”
Beatrice laughed, her cheeks flushing with excitement. “Oh, don’t worry about me! I’ve read all the books on beekeeping. I’m practically an expert!”
Sir Whiskerton raised an eyebrow, his skepticism evident. “Very well. But please, proceed with caution. The bees are not to be trifled with.”
Beatrice’s Bumbling Beginnings
Beatrice’s first attempt at beekeeping was, to put it mildly, a disaster. She approached the hives with confidence, her smoker puffing out clouds of smoke. But as soon as she opened the first hive, the bees erupted in a furious swarm, their buzzing filling the air like an angry orchestra.
“Oh dear!” Beatrice cried, waving her arms in a futile attempt to calm the bees. “I didn’t mean to upset you!”
The bees, however, were not impressed. They descended on Beatrice in a cloud of stinging fury, leaving her covered in red welts and honey. She stumbled backward, tripping over a rock and landing in a patch of mud.
“Cluck!” Doris squawked, flapping her wings in alarm. “She’s being attacked by the bees!”
“Bees!” Harriet echoed, ducking behind a hay bale.
“Attack!” Lillian added, fainting dramatically onto a pile of hay.
Sir Whiskerton sighed, his tail flicking with concern. “This is most unfortunate. Miss Beatrice, are you alright?”
Beatrice sat up, her dress covered in mud and her hat askew. “I’m fine, I’m fine!” she said, her voice trembling. “Just a few stings. Nothing to worry about!”
But the bees were not done with her. As she tried to stand, they swarmed around her again, their buzzing growing louder and more aggressive. Beatrice flailed her arms, accidentally knocking over a nearby jar of honey. The sticky liquid spilled onto the ground, creating a slippery, golden puddle.
“Oh no!” Beatrice cried, slipping and sliding as she tried to escape the bees. “This is not how it’s supposed to go!”
The Farm in Chaos
As Beatrice’s beekeeping mishaps continued, chaos erupted on the farm. The spilled honey attracted every insect within a mile radius, from ants to wasps to a particularly bold butterfly. The animals, meanwhile, were caught in the crossfire.
Rufus the Dog, ever the curious one, bounded over to investigate the honey puddle. “Ooh, honey!” he barked, sticking his nose into the sticky mess. But as soon as he did, the bees turned their attention to him, stinging his nose and sending him running in circles.
“Yelp! Yelp! Yelp!” Rufus cried, his tail tucked between his legs. “Help! The bees are after me!”
Porkchop the Pig, drawn by the smell of honey, waddled over to the puddle. “Mmm, honey,” he said, licking his lips. But as soon as he dipped his snout into the sticky liquid, the bees swarmed him too, leaving him covered in stings and honey.
“Oink! Oink!” Porkchop squealed, rolling on the ground in a desperate attempt to escape the bees. “This is worse than the time I ate too many acorns!”
Even Bessie the Tie-Dye Cow, usually so calm and collected, found herself caught in the chaos. As she tried to help Beatrice, she stepped in the honey puddle and slipped, landing in a heap of mud and sticky sweetness.
“Moo!” Bessie groaned, her mood ring turning a deep shade of purple. “This is not groovy at all!”
Sir Whiskerton, observing the chaos from the barn roof, knew it was time to intervene. “This has gone far enough,” he said, leaping down to the ground. “The farm cannot function under such disorder. I shall restore order and teach Miss Beatrice the importance of caution.”
Sir Whiskerton’s Solution
Sir Whiskerton approached Beatrice, who was now hiding behind a hay bale, her face covered in stings and her dress a sticky, muddy mess. “Miss Beatrice,” he said, his voice calm but firm, “your enthusiasm is commendable, but your methods need refinement. Beekeeping requires patience, care, and respect for the bees.”
Beatrice nodded, her eyes filled with tears. “I know, I know. I just wanted to help, but everything went wrong!”
Sir Whiskerton placed a paw on her shoulder. “The road to mastery is paved with mistakes. But now, we must focus on fixing this mess. Follow my lead.”
Under Sir Whiskerton’s guidance, Beatrice began to approach the bees with more care. She moved slowly and deliberately, using the smoker to calm the bees before opening the hives. She wore her gloves properly and kept her movements gentle, earning the bees’ trust.
As she worked, the bees began to calm down, their buzzing growing softer and less aggressive. The spilled honey was cleaned up, and the farm slowly returned to normal.
The Moral of the Story
As the farm recovered from the chaos, the animals reflected on the day’s events.
The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: Patience and care are key. Beatrice’s initial bumbling attempts at beekeeping caused chaos, but her willingness to learn and adapt showed the importance of humility and perseverance. The bees, though small, reminded everyone that even the tiniest creatures deserve respect and care. And through it all, Sir Whiskerton’s wisdom reminded everyone that even the stickiest situations can be resolved with patience and determination.
A Happy Ending
With the bees calm and the farm back to normal, Beatrice gathered the animals for a celebratory feast. She had learned her lesson and was eager to prove herself as a capable beekeeper.
“Thank you, Sir Whiskerton,” Beatrice said, her face glowing with gratitude. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
Sir Whiskerton adjusted his monocle and smirked. “You’re welcome, Miss Beatrice. Remember, the world is full of challenges, but with patience and care, you can overcome anything.”
As the sun set over the farm, the animals laughed and chatted, their bond stronger than ever. Sir Whiskerton lounged on his favorite sunbeam, content in the knowledge that he had once again saved the day. The farm was at peace, and all was right in the world.
And so, dear reader, we leave our heroes with the promise of new adventures, new lessons, and the enduring importance of patience and care. Until next time, may your days be filled with laughter, love, and just a little bit of feline genius.
The End.
Would you buy a Tesla if Musk is kicked out of Tesla?
No. Here’s why.
A friend of mine got a new Tesla and excitedly offered me a ride. The self-driven ride was unimpressive, but whatever. But the air vent was blowing in my face and to my astonishment, it turned out the only way to move any of the vents is by means of a touch screen.
This is not a feature. It’s STUPID. The vent is right there in front of me. The CORRECT design is the same design used in ever care since AC was invented—reach out and move the fucker.
Any other design is STUPID. The car was designed by a stupid person. I don’t intentionally ride in, much less buy, cars made by stupid people.
And if that alone weren’t reason enough, when I visited the Mt. Wilson Observatory a while back, there were signs in the parking lot warning Tesla owners that the radio emissions from the broadcast equipment on the mountain were known to disable the (obviously unshielded) locks of Teslas. Because they were designed by stupid people.
So no.
Shorpy
Have you ever had a person who knew nothing about your job tell you how to do your job?
This is basically any UK job in research & development involving personal care and consumer products. You’re expected to be both an industry genius and come up with new products like some kind of marketing expert, while also being told everything you’re doing is wrong because you’re a state-schooled idiot, you’re getting paid little more than the minimum wage, and you’re living with the constant fear that your job will soon be outsourced abroad due to other people’s financial incompetence.
I worked in that toxic shithole for 13 years, and have now moved to an R&D role in an industry which has more realistic expectations, much better pay, and companies that don’t have to lay off 2/3 of their staff to save costs every year when their accounts get audited.
U.S. Wants Countries to Pay MEMBERSHIP FEE to Sell In America & Pay For Massive Tax Cuts
What are some of the most disturbing pictures you have ever seen?
There are actually two.
The first photo is of a young Venezuelan named Andrys—a 23-year-old gay makeup artist who was disappeared by the Trump administration, recently identified publicly for the first time. Last week, he was deported, (read: human trafficked to perform slave labor) into a Salvadoran mega-prison without due process, without a court hearing, and without evidence—solely based on suspicion of gang ties.
The second photo was captured by an American photojournalist embedded inside that same mega-prison in El Salvador. The journalist documented the experiences of detainees, including American residents who’ve had their constitutional rights suspended.
This quote from the Time article should turn your blood cold: “The intake began with slaps. One young man sobbed when a guard pushed him to the floor. He said, ‘I’m not a gang member. I’m gay. I’m a barber.’ I believed him. But maybe it’s only because he didn’t look like what I had expected—he wasn’t a tattooed monster.” What the Venezuelans Deported to El Salvador Experienced
Did this journalist unknowingly witness Andrys’s abuse and imprisonment?
Why must we—citizens of the United States—piece together these horrifying details while politicians ignore our courts, our Constitution, and the basic principles underpinning American democracy? If they can do this to Andrys, who’s next?
“Repulsive” and “evil” don’t even scratch the surface.This is one of the darkest periods in American history, and we’re living through it right now.
Finnish Rye Bread (Suomalaisruisleip )
To serve this loaf, cut it into wedges, and spread with butter or soft, mild cheese.
Ingredients
- 1 package active dry yeast
- 1 1/4 cups warm water* (105 to 115 degrees F)
- 1 tablespoon packed brown sugar
- 1 tablespoon vegetable oil
- 1 1/2 teaspoons salt
- 1 1/4 cups medium rye flour
- 1 1/2 to 2 cups all-purpose flour
- Butter or margarine, softened
Instructions
- Dissolve yeast in warm water in large bowl.
- Stir in brown sugar, oil, salt and 1 cup of the rye flour. Beat until smooth.
- Stir in enough all-purpose flour to make the dough easy to handle.
- Turn dough onto surface that has been sprinkled with the remaining rye flour.
- Cover; let rest 10 to 15 minutes.
- Knead until smooth and elastic, about 5 minutes.
- Place in greased bowl; turn greased side up. Cover; let rise in warm place until double, about 1 hour. Dough is ready if indentation remains when touched.
- Punch down dough; shape into a round, slightly flat loaf.
- Place in greased 9 x 1 1/2-inch round pan.
- Cover; let rise until double, about 1 hour.
- Heat oven to 375 degrees F.
- Bake until loaf sounds hollow when tapped, 40 to 50 minutes.
- Immediately remove from pan.
- Brush top of loaf with butter; cool on wire rack.
Notes
* Potato water can be substituted for the water. This is the water in which potatoes have been cooked. This is traditional for Finnish Rye Bread.
Why is your price so high, miss?
A sultan heard that there was a slave girl in the market whose price exceeded that of a hundred other slaves.
He sent for this slave to see what made her so exceptional.
She stood before him with a dignity he had never seen in other slaves.
She asked her, “Why is your price so high, young lady?”
She replied: “Because I am distinguished by my intelligence.”
Intrigued, he said, “I will ask you a question. If you answer correctly, I will release you. If not, I will kill you.”
“What is the finest garment, the sweetest perfume, the most delicious food, the softest bed, and the most beautiful country?”
The slave turned to those present and said, “Prepare my things and my horse, for I am leaving this palace a free woman.”
“The finest garment is the shirt of the poor man who has only one, because he finds it suitable for both winter and summer.”
“The most pleasant scent is that of a mother, even if she is simply a fire blower in a public bathroom.”
“The most delicious food is the one you eat when you are hungry, because when you are hungry, even stale bread is delicious.”
“The softest bed is the one on which you sleep in peace. If you are unjust, even a bed of gold will seem full of thorns.”
She walked towards the door and the Sultan called out to her: “You have not answered my last question…”
He turned around and said, “The most beautiful country is one that is free and not governed by ignorant people.”
He had answered correctly and thus gained his freedom.
Yes, he was right: the most beautiful country is the one not governed by ignorant people…
Laboratory #6
Submitted into Contest #287 in response to: Center your story around someone who’s boiling over with anger, frustration, or jealousy.… view prompt
Stephen McManus
“Dr. Lee, turn off that alarm!” he screamed.
Shaking her head she darted to the wall, flipped the plastic lid and pressed the red button. Silence filled the room, broken only by Pang’s rapid breathing and the drip of some fluid on the far side of the lab.
“Carol, please get the first aid kit,” said Pang. With difficulty he propped himself up against his desk, the ruined arm braced awkwardly in his lap.
Carolyn Lee, PhD virologist, 51 years old, nervously adjusted her wire-framed glasses. The first aid kit was in the coat closet. As always over the last few months she hesitated for a second before entering the closet. Every time she did she thought of that night, that crazy erotic night that upended her mostly happy marriage. But she yanked the door open anyway, grabbed the kit from the shelf and raced back to Pang.
He sat with legs extended, eyes closed, gritting his teeth. The crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes were deep ruts as if carved from wood. She squatted and he smiled weakly. “Just use the spray and wrap it in gauze.” He exhaled painfully as the cool antibacterial spray foamed on the open wound. A faint alcohol smell filled the air, whisked away quickly by the negative pressure air vents.
“Drs. Lee and Pangilinan, the biocontainment breach protocol has been activated. You will not be able to leave the laboratory before the cleaners arrive,” droned the voice of Artemis, the security A.I.
Reflexively, they looked at the camera wedged into the top corner of the lab.
Pang leaned back his head, which was still covered in thick salt and pepper hair despite being 60 years old, resting it on his desk. “Okay, we have about twenty minutes before they break down that door.” He winced as pain jumped up his arm. “Damn, this hurts. Anyway, biocontainment protocol means we’re about to enter isolation for a very long time or, well, or something else, more permanent.”
Carol stood, looked around at the sterile white walls, the shattered cage, the lifeless body of the monkey and said, pointing across the room, nearly hysterical, “That monkey was dead, okay? I checked it myself! How did that thing escape?!”
Wearily, he responded, “I don’t know, Carol, but it’s a good question. Let me just think for a second. The monkey received version 2.2.33 of regen pathogen R, right?”
Carol frowned as she turned toward him. “Wait, I thought it was supposed to get point 34, not point 33. Are you saying you injected point 33, without cleaning the cage first?”
Pang glowered at her. “Damn it, Carol, this is your fault! Your icy silence is how mistakes like this get made.” He was yelling now, “What happened at Christmas was dumb, but it’s over, okay, at least for me. You should’ve buried your shame or left the lab. Now you may have killed us!”
“Don’t bring that up,” she whispered, shaking her head. The touch of his lips on her neck, the wild intensity of the moment flared up briefly, but she pushed it back down. “We don’t have time for that.”
“Ah, whatever” he said, waving his arms dismissively.
She moved to her computer to review the data. The monkey died two hours before the attack. All of the measurements were accurate. Leaning back in her chair she swiveled and looked at the primate’s corpse. Could it have been in a vegetative state rather than dead? I guess anything is possible. She grabbed a scalpel and a box of clear glass microscope slides. Only one way to find out.
She stepped over Pang’s legs. He rested. Soft snoring accentuated his uneasy sleep. The broken and infected arm was swollen and black, tightening around the sleeve of his lab coat.
Carol stooped to sample the dead monkey after putting on plastic gloves. The thing lay in a pool of dark red blood and brain fragments. She gagged at the smell of putrefaction that wafted over her when she lifted the arm. Suddenly, the monkey’s hand curled and scratched the side of her palm. She screamed, yanked her hand away and stumbled over backwards. The claw had penetrated the thin barrier of the glove and nicked the skin. A tiny drop of blood oozed out.
After washing her hands with warm, soapy water she taped gauze to the wound.
Pang squinted his eyes against the fluorescent lights and said, “Hey, what was that scream? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, I just tried to get some blood from that thing and it twitched and scratched me. It burns like crazy.”
“How long was I out?”
“Maybe a few minutes, not long, but listen, I’ve been thinking. Let’s assume that thing was actually dead. Not deeply unconscious or anything like that, but dead. Think about what just happened. I mean, it came back to life. Are you following me?”
Pang stared at her intently, “Yes.”
She perched on the edge of the desk next to Pang. “But this wasn’t regeneration, this was something else. That, that, thing was no monkey anymore. It was vicious, hostile, like totally insane.”
He nodded his head thoughtfully. “Yeah, so what do you think is going on?”
“Well, we’re talking about two hours from death to whatever happened. We inoculated the monkey roughly twelve hours before it died. The speed that it transformed is astonishing. I mean it’s ten times faster than anything we’ve seen.” She paused, bit the inside of her check, and continued more softly, “What if you’re infected? What if its bite transmitted it to you? I mean, look at your arm.”
His blackened fingers were round as sausages. The lab coat sleeve was so tense the seams in his shoulder were bulging. A foul sulfur smell clung to his body.
Pang looked from his arm to Carol. “You’re right,” he said quietly.
A loud bang shook the lab, jarring them. Light dust drifted from the ceiling. Carol raced to the door to look through the circular glass window. “They’re at the outer security door. They blew it off its hinges! What is going on?”
“Come here, Carol, quickly. This may sound crazy, but I think I know what we have to do. We can’t risk infecting those guards.” He paused, and then looked her hard in the eyes. “You’ve got to kill me before the pathogen does.”
She shook her head in horror. “Please, Pang, no. Don’t say that.”
“Stop it and just listen to me! If you’re right, and I think you are, I’m already dead. It’ll be easy.” He hooked his thumb on his necklace, pulling out a squat metal key and inserted it into the bottom drawer of his desk. He scooted over several inches to give the drawer room to open. Inside was a gray steel box containing several loaded syringes. Carol noticed a photograph of her tucked in the back. It was from a Christmas card. Pang had folded it in half, so her husband was not visible. They both pretended not to see it.
“These are filled mostly with potassium chloride, but also with a sedative and something that paralyzes muscle. This dose will work, trust me, it would put down a rhino. The thing is it has to be injected intravenously, so, I can’t do it myself.” He handed her a couple syringes and said, “Please, Carol, before it’s too late.”
Without thinking she grabbed the two syringes, checked the caps were securely in place, and backed away. They felt heavy in her hand, foreign, dangerous. “I don’t know if I can do that, Nathan.”
Another explosion rocked the lab, this time closer than before. Pang panted, breathing heavily as he spoke. “They just have to get through the door in lab #5 and they’ll be here. If this new pathogen is like the others it cannot survive outside a living host for more than 8 minutes. Please, Carol, you must do it quickly.”
She backed up numbly and bumped into her desk, absently dropping the syringes on the table top. As she sat in the swivel seat, she interlaced her fingers and tried to think. Could I murder Pang? No way. This is crazy. What if he’s wrong? We might not even be infected. I’m not killing anyone.
In desperation she prayed a Hail Mary, and as she did Pang’s body slid quietly to the floor. Just then the shoulder seam popped open, revealing blackened skin covered with coarse hair. His eyes stared blankly. The cowlick in front of his hair line stood defiantly upright.
Her first reaction was relief. Maybe the shame of their encounter could finally begin to heal. She thought of her husband waiting up for her that night. He could see something was wrong. “What happened?” he asked. The intense, forbidden excitement had been followed by profound emptiness, darkness, a deep well of self-loathing. What have I done, she asked herself over and over. She looked at him and said, “Nothing.”
She turned away from Pang’s body, disgusted. The cut on her hand throbbed, so she pressed her other palm against it.
Bang, bang, bang!
Carol jumped at the pounding on the door. Several men in full battle gear stood looking at her through the window. The laser pointer from one of the machine guns shone through the window and was fixed on her chest. She turned slowly, raising her hands, “I’m not armed.”
“Stay back!” one of them commanded, his voice muffled by the thick door and his breathing apparatus. This was followed in rapid succession by, “Breaching door!” and then, “Clear!” and then an explosion. The door flung open as the charge detonated, filling the lab with smoke.
She collapsed down into a ball, squatting on the balls of her feet, arms clasped over her head. Glancing back through the acrid smoke she saw a soldier standing inside the lab with a machine gun pointed at her. The muzzle looked enormous and lethal. Heart pounding, mouth dry, she froze.
Suddenly, she heard a guttural noise behind her. The soldier screamed, “Stay down!”
She turned to see Pang’s reanimated body standing, glaring at her with bloodshot eyes. The hostility in his gaze, the utter hate, was terrifying. She tasted acid in the back of her mouth and a liquid emptiness in her stomach.
The laser sight flew from her chest to Pang’s. Three quick shots, pop pop pop, penetrated him in a tight cluster, right above his heart. His body flew backwards, skidding to a halt next to the monkey.
Now in shock, mouth agape, Carol looked back at the soldier. Two lasers were centered on her heart. Pop pop pop. She was dead before she hit the floor.
“Sergeant Bryant, bag the bodies, including the monkey, and burn the lab. Bring the bodies to the quarantine morgue,” said Artemis.
“Roger that,” replied the sergeant.
It took approximately seventy eight hours before the first zombie escaped from the facility.
What have you regretted the most in your life?
Probably all the times I lost control of myself and brought a ton of negativity to the world and the people around me.
I get so angry. So serious. So depressed. And I def got my reasons for why im so fucked up. But that doesn’t give me the right to pass off pain to the people I love.
But I do, that’s the truth. I take em for granted a lot of the time. I say hurtful things. I alienate myself. I project my insecurities and I project my hurt on people who want to help me.
I pull em in than push them away.
And idk what is wrong with me anymore. Idk how to control it. All I know is im wasting alot of time
6 Empires Lost Their Middle Class Following 8 Stages. USA At Stage 7.
A MUST watch! Explains a lot.
What happens to a country’s economy when foreign companies start pulling out their investments?
US and EU imposed the harshest sanctions on Russia.
When US and EU companies pulled out of Russia as part of their sanctions, it faces shortages for a while. But it suffered none of the predictions of perditions.
Russia is not a desert. It is a country of chess masters with a history of 1,000 years. Before long, they were replaced by the domestics and investments from other countries, the most notable is China.
Russia’s trade with China grew at rapid rates. Likewise, its trade with India and many countries in Africa.
Its economy suffered a downturn for less than a year, and then returned to the growth path. In the last 2 years, it out-performed the EU economy and equaled the US.
This is notwithstanding the absence of US and EU investments, the Ukraine war, and all the sanctions it has to endure.
It went through an adjustment period. There are views that it has grown stronger. It manufactures more of its own things and reduces its dependency on the US and EU. Granted there are substantial war productions.
Is Trump going to invade Canada?
Current USA President can’t legally change the Laws of Canada, nor the regulations of NATO, nor the International Laws of the United Nations, and neither the Laws & Regulations of the Commonwealth of Nations.
Deep down, Trump and Putin should know that citizens of the World are NOT going to be BULLIED, BRAINWASHED, BLACKMAILED, SABOTAGED and FRAUDULENTLY CONNED into thinking that those DICTATORS could be considered to be compassionate, caring and kind human beings. They most definitely are NOT ! And those dictators and Presidents are pathetic excuses for FAILING miserably as HUMAN BEINGS !
They DO NOT CARE and NEVER WILL CARE about saving innocent women & children and civilian men, from being murdered in the current war zones in Ukraine and other wars around the World.
Many vulnerable Nations around the World are now upgrading and implementing the latest technologies in Military and Defence Systems.
Vulnerable countries are now ordering Military Weapons & Defence Systems from other Countries and NOT weapons from the USA nor from RUSSIA, in order to combat the escalated arrogance and aggression of what originally was meant to be a somewhat safer World for us to live in with the purpose of NATO’s Peace Keeping efforts.
Time is of the essence, and nobody is going to wait around for the next dangerous moves by the Putin-Trump-Musk International Crimes Syndicate.
NO NATION is going to put ANY trust whatsoever into those EVIL and BULLYING low-life murderers and imbecilic, dictating morons !
🇨🇦 LONG LIVE CANADA 🇨🇦
RAISING KIDS IN CHINA: A EUROPEAN DAD’S STORY
