.
This is no mere messy accident; this is a Radiological Regurgitation Riddle!
Ah, man it's getting crazier and crazier.
If I were a cat, I'd be like...
Sigh.
It's true, though...
Sometimes I wish to get into a time machine and go backwards . Maybe to this point in time...
Those were the days.
Don't you know.
The world today is truly bizarre...
I need to go back in time. Do some blotter, and take a ride to the "boonie dumps"...
I had a girl friend then, named Mary. She was a thin redhead who was a total wreck. Sad to say.
But even then, the times were much more manageable than today.
This is what I NEED right now. Just sayin'.
Do youse guys "hear me"?
Today...
Alex Jones ENDS InfoWars With Final Broadcast!
What would be the environmental trade-offs if the West decided to ramp up rare earth production domestically?
No, because it’s impossible to build a complete rare earth production chain.
I’ve noticed that many of my fellow countrymen have already explained this issue to Westerners.
In China, a roast duck actually costs much less than a live duck.
For example, a roast duck might cost only 20 yuan, while a live duck costs 60 yuan.
That’s because every part of the duck can be sold for profit.
Duck down can be used to make jackets, duck necks are a delicacy (and sell for more than duck legs), duck blood is used to make blood tofu, and so on.
Rare earths are a bit like a duck’s tongue — if you don’t have the whole duck industry, trying to produce only the tongue will make the cost skyrocket.
Here’s a similar case: another metal where China holds a dominant position — gallium.
Last year, China produced 45 million tons of aluminum and, as a byproduct, obtained 315 tons of gallium.
So when the U.S. banned exports of high-end gallium oxide products to China, China immediately retaliated by banning gallium exports to the U.S.
（I truly don’t understand why President Trump is doing this.
These metals are used to produce radar systems. Without them, fighter jets and warships alike would regress to the technology level of the 1960s or 70s.
It’s true that the United States still has a slight advantage for now and can order its allies to ban exports to China. But before imposing such a ban—why not ask even a high school student first?
Without American technology, China can still produce radar systems, perhaps lagging by five years at most. But without Chinese metals, the United States would fall back half a century.
The same applies to semiconductors.
Chips containing as little as 1% American technology are prohibited from being exported to China.
Now China has responded: any product containing 0.1% Chinese rare earths cannot be sold to the U.S. (except for those proven to be used in humanitarian or medical projects).
Well then, China can still produce its own chips with technology that’s three to five years behind—and in fact, low- to mid-end chips are already monopolized by China.
The United States, however, would be left without any chips at all.
Then there’s the ship tax. If a Chinese ship—or even a ship made in China—docks at an American port, it must pay a fee of one million dollars?
Yet, nine of the world’s ten largest ports are in China.
China’s countermeasure: ships with more than 25% American ownership or flying the U.S. flag will be charged additional fees when docking in Chinese ports.
Ironically, due to the U.S. government shutdown, it remains unclear when the money can actually be collected—while on the very day China issued the order, the payment had already been received.
This rule does not apply to ships manufactured in China.
America’s goal seems to be preventing the world from buying ships from China; China’s response is to make it so that you must buy ships from China.
On September 29, the U.S. announced that a Chinese company was being added to its so-called “Entity List.” The very next day, the Dutch government—under U.S. control—shamelessly seized the company’s Dutch assets.
Fine, then China declared that products from this company made in China are now banned from being sold to Europe—essentially bringing European car production to a halt. I imagine they are now urgently questioning their Dutch government about this.
If you read the Dutch Minister of Economic Affairs’ remarks today, you might find them rather strange.
Karremans emphasized: “We must first ensure that Nexperia can get out of this predicament, in a way that serves the economic interests of the United States, the Netherlands, Europe, and China.”
He denied that the Dutch intervention was under U.S. pressure, saying, “This was my own decision. I did not speak to any Americans about it.”
A minister in charge of the Dutch economy, when mentioning “interests,” puts the United States first—before the Netherlands?
How do you interpret that?
Here’s my take: he’s sending a message to China — “China, there’s nothing I can do. I can’t disobey my American master’s orders. So I’ll make a big scene, push things to the extreme, and let the U.S. bear the pressure, eventually leading to a TACO.”
The Chinese are quite familiar with this kind of tactic. Chairman Mao once called it “waving the red flag to oppose the red flag,” or “the fastest way to destroy a policy is to over-implement it.”
You want to improve urban sanitation? Fine—mobilize every citizen, make everyone miserable, and soon the policy collapses under its own weight.
The Dutch approach might be similar: overzealously executing the American master’s orders, causing carmakers in both the U.S. and Europe to complain bitterly—until Washington is forced to back down ，TACO, while the Netherlands avoids punishment from its master.
That’s my speculation.
…
Incidents like this are becoming more frequent. But I really cannot understand President Trump’s way of thinking. He seems to believe that only he has the power to bully other nations, and that others are incapable of fighting back.）
Of course, the U.S. could produce those 315 tons of gallium on its own.
Roughly estimating — without even counting mining, transportation, and so on — just the smelting process alone would require about 100,000 hardworking laborers, several thousand skilled engineers, and 600 billion kilowatt-hours of electricity.
This logic applies to many industries.
Many materials that are produced in small quantities and are difficult to obtain are, in fact, just byproducts — like the “duck’s tongue.”
For China, the cost is very low, since we produce over one billion tons of steel every year — and our aluminum output, too, exceeds that of all other countries combined.
No, the Western world simply can’t do this.
The electricity required just for aluminum electrolysis would exceed the total annual power generation of the U.K., France, or Germany.
Perhaps the U.S. could, but it would require trillions of dollars in investment, enormous risk, and a profit margin of less than 5% in 10~15 years.
Why would any capitalist do that instead of putting the money in the bank?
On one hand, I seriously doubt the U.S. still has the capacity to build mega smelting plants producing one billion tons of steel and 45 million tons of aluminum annually.
On the other hand, even if they did, who would buy all that steel and aluminum?
The prices would be far higher than China’s.
Even if all these difficulties were overcome—
Do you really think President Trump would do it? Would he devote endless effort, unite all Americans, and struggle for four years, fourteen years…? (China began its investment in 1972 and has spent fifty-three years achieving its monopoly in rare earths—an endeavor full of hardships beyond description.)
And in the end, the glory goes to his successor? Perhaps even to a Democratic president! China made it happen—six successive leadership collectives carried the torch, one after another, never stopping along the way.
President Xi Jinping once said, 功成不必在我，功成必定有我(The success need not be credited to me, but my contribution must be part of the success.)
Would Trump think that way? No—impossible. President Trump wouldn’t invest even a single cent.
Finally, the heavy rare earths required by military and top-tier civilian industries currently exist only in China — particularly in Yunnan Province.
Although small deposits have recently been found in neighboring Myanmar and Laos, their rare earth mines are also sold to China.
For any other country to invest tens of billions of dollars to mine there is unrealistic. Laos is a close ally of China — a few years ago, China helped it build its first railway and invested heavily in its power, water, mining, and agricultural sectors. Myanmar, meanwhile, has dozens of ethnic insurgent groups and is extremely complex.
So, rest assured — the Western world won’t be polluting its environment by refining rare earths anytime soon.
What is the most important lesson in life?
A man slaughters a big cow, starts the grill, and says to his daughter, “Daughter, go call our relatives, friends, and neighbors to join us… We’re having a celebration!”
The daughter goes out to the street and shouts, “Please help! My father’s house is on fire!”
After some time, only a few people come out to help, while many others act like they didn’t hear anything. The ones who came stay, eat, and enjoy the food until late.
The father, confused, looks around and says to his daughter, “I don’t know most of these people. Some I’ve never seen before. Where are our friends, family, and neighbors?”
The daughter calmly replies, “The people who came didn’t come for a party. They came because they thought we were in trouble. These are the people who care about us. These are the ones who deserve to celebrate with us.”
Lesson: The ones who don’t show up when you’re struggling don’t deserve to be with you when you succeed
What was the moment you realized your marriage was over?
One single touch.
We were attending a party because my then-wife insisted on being there, despite the fact that I’d had minor surgery only a couple of days earlier. (When I was about to go to the hospital, she suddenly let me know that she wouldn’t be there to give me a ride home. I had to call my parents instead.)
My face still hurt (some so-called facial “nevi” had been surgically removed), and the bandages annoyed me, but she had forced me to attend. I knew all too well that most probably — although she ostentatiously denied it — her secret lover was at the party, but for some reason I had to go through this nonsense.
Later, it would turn out that this was the very last evening in which we were physically together as a couple. Our troubles had been going on for about five months, but I still hoped that a miracle would happen (they rarely do). She had left me in early January to be “on her own” for a while, but only in hindsight I understood that she hadn’t been “on her own” at all.
And now it was just past the Ides of March.
And during a song on which she was dancing, I saw her touch the hypothetical lover’s belly — only for a split second, but I knew all too well what this meant. And when she realized that I had seen it, she panicked. I saw the many lies in her eyes, and I also saw things hidden — stuff that I did not know yet, but would find out sooner or later.
Stuff that she had known for ages.
The next morning, I had to catch a train and I would be away for a month (for work), and I knew for sure that I left her as a husband, but would most probably return as an ex-husband, as someone whom she used to know.
When she waved goodbye, I knew that it was final. And that she would celebrate my leaving, and start building a new life ASAP, as if I had never existed in the first place. The cancer that would kill her a decade later might have been already there — who knows — but I wouldn’t be there to help her.
That’s what happens when you are erased from the picture —
It’s always silent in the Dead Circus.
How could one build a “secret” and hidden room at home?
I have seen 2.
One was accessed over the top of the closet shelves in the front hall closet. You could climb right up the shelves and go into a finished room built under the eaves, but to actually SEE into the room or climb into it you had to take out the top shelf. Nobody had known it was there, and I found it as a kid climbing around. You could stand up in it and walk back and forth maybe 6ft, there was a bed, a small trunk and on the trunk there was a basin and ewer, a can full of candles that has sort of smushed down into a block at the bottom, and a candlholder with the arches remains of a candle.
The other one I have seen was in my grandparents’ house. Their house had a sort of top-to-bottom access run for steam pipes for the radiators and for plumbing. The access hatch for it was about 2.5 x 3ft, and above the floor by about 18 inches, so a full grown man could wasily step in. My grandpa was a very large man, and he wanted someone to check the pipes in there because a leak was coming from SOMEwhere… I was about 10, and he stuffed me iin the hole and aske me to look for the leak, so he could see what sort of repairs he was in for. He even gave ma a camera to take pictures!
I got in there, and the dimensions of the run were about 2.5ft deep and 4ft wide, taking up the whole back wall of the breakfast nook. There was an iron ladder on the side of the run that went through a hole both up and down. I climbed up to the top and found that after the pipes ended, there was a little hatch, so I lifted it up to look. There was a long low room up under the eaves containing 6 rotten canvas cots covered in spider webs. There were vents, but no windows. The cabinet on the wall connected to the dumbwaiter shaft from the kitchen. I took pictures of the pipes all the way down, found the leak pretty close to the bottom access. My grandpa had known there was a secret room, but he had never known how to get into it. It was part of the underground railroad. He told me not to go up there because the foorboards were probably rotten, and he could never get up that shaft if I got stuck.
Which episode of the Twilight Zone still sends a chill up your spine today?
Episode 86, “Kick the Can”
(also labeled Season 3, Episode 21)
This episode of The Twilight Zone first aired in 1962 long before I was born. But I got hooked on the series as a teenager. Of all the Twilight Zone episodes I’ve watched over the years, this one seems the most indelible.
The script capitalizes on our human fascination with recapturing youth and the painful nature of the unstoppable aging process. The episode features the game kick the can, a backyard athletic endeavor that was popular in the United States as far back as the 1930s and was still played by us kids in the ‘80s. I think the game is long gone in 2025, an era in which kids sit inside and play video games for hours or possibly find modern alternative outdoor pursuits.
The setting
This episode shows elderly residents at a retirement home passing the time at the end of their lives, essentially waiting to die. It’s something viewers realize we’ll all be doing someday, if we’re lucky enough. As always with this brilliant series, the directing and acting allow the audience to feel the anxiety of anticipating the final years of our lives. Facing our fears, it effectively sells the idea that these characters (and even the actors playing them) have reached the final chapter of their existence as we all will. In fact, two of the actors died within a few years following the episode’s debut.
The plot
Aging residents embrace youthfulness by playing a game of kick the can. But they discover their youthful actions indeed turn back the clock and convert them into children again. All but one resident joins in, and the man who was too jaded to participate realizes his fellow senior citizens have become energetic children who no longer recognize him. They disappear into the darkness fleeing the retirement home with renewed enthusiasm and leave him behind.
Rod Sterling narrates the closing of the show as he always did, stating, “Sunnyvale Rest, a dying place for ancient people who have forgotten the fragile magic of youth.” On paper, it doesn’t seem like much, perhaps a less remarkable episode of the Twilight Zone. But watching it will likely change your mind. The series had a way of taking the simplest ideas and turning them into eerie, unforgettable poignancy with subtle terror. There is something unnerving about facing our own mortality and confronting the fact that as we all age, desperation grows to recapture our youth as our bodies irreversibly break down.
The Twilight Zone: The Movie (1983) selected three episodes to be remade, and it was decided that “Kick the Can” would be one of them. While a simple idea, it was obviously regarded as being among the most thought provoking in the series. Steven Spielberg even directed that portion of the movie.
Death is something we cannot avoid. Inevitability, the last of the elderly actors from that episode to die was Marjorie Bennett during the summer of 1982 at the age of 86 in Hollywood, California. She played an aging Mrs. Summers in “Kick the Can” and, like many professional actors ranging from the briefest acting stints to lifelong careers, had remained in the Los Angeles area until the end of her life.
The episode’s last living actor in an adult role was Eve McVeagh who passed away in late 1997 at the age of 78 after a lengthy and successful Hollywood career. She played an uncredited nurse in the episode. The child actors featured were all born in the early ‘50s and are now facing their own mortality or have passed away.
What is the most badass thing your parent has ever done?
I was a drug dealer in school. Mom was my supplier.
And the drug I sold was bubblegum.
Thanks to my Mom’s lessons in business, I sold a truckload of it.
Mom grocery shopped on Thursdays.
That’s when my order of bubblegum we due. Bubble Yum to be exact. Grape. Watermelon. Wild Cherry. You name it. Mom would go to the store, buy the goods, then tell me how much I owed her.
After all, I had a business to run.
Besides, a school-load of sugar-starved adolescents with pockets full of lunch money were counting on me. How else are you going to stay awake through World History?
Bubble Yum of course.
And what a business it turned out to be.
It’s interesting to think that I learned more about business in junior high selling bubblegum than I did in school as an adult.
I’d like to pass these things to you.
Here we go…
Find the right market: The snack machine near the lockers was a pile of junk. Everybody hated it. Half the time it wouldn’t take your money. But if it did, it was a total gamble if you actually got what you paid for.
You know what I’m talking about with these contraptions. You give it money. The thing turns. Your Chili Cheese Fritos get stuck.
So what do you do?
You shake the shit out of it. Try not to get crushed. Then give up and spend even more money trying to get something…anything.
It’s a racket!
But that snack machine made me lots of money as a kid. Why? Not because I owned it. I didn’t. But because it sucked so bad. As awful as that thing was, it was the only option kids had. So they had to deal with it.
That is, until I rolled up to school with a backpack full of Bubble Yum.
I had something people wanted (kids were demonstrably paying for snacks before I showed up). I was easy to work with. I carried the flavors they loved. My prices were fair. And I was way more reliable.
I can honestly say, 100% of my customers got 100% what they ordered 100% of the time.
Lesson: Find a need and do it better than everyone else.
Keep it simple. I sold one thing. Bubblegum. I didn’t sell chips (too loud), Cokes (too heavy), or crumbly granola bars (too boring). Seriously, you try opening a bag of Fritos without anyone hearing. It’s impossible.
Plus, managing the bulky inventory would have been a pain in the ass and upped my risk of getting busted significantly.
Bubble gum was discreet, easy to carry, didn’t get crushed, and quickly solved the sugary needs of my clientele.
Lesson: Start small. Keep it simple. You’ll know when to grow.
Know your customer. Watermelon was my favorite flavor. But you know what sold best? Grape. Wild Cherry was a close second. I didn’t understand it either. Grape lost its flavor in minutes. Now that I think of it, it’s probably why it sold the most. Kids we’re literally chewing through it faster than the others.
But that didn’t matter. Who cares what I wanted? I wasn’t the customer. So I kept track of what was selling and what wasn’t. Most days looked kind of like this:
- 5 packs of Grape
- 4 Wild Cherry
- 2 Watermelon
- 1 Peach
- 0 Regular. (Plain Bubble Yum sat in inventory too long, took up space, and tasted nasty.)
Lesson: Listen to what your customers want. No need for a bunch of complicated strategies. Ask them. They’ll tell you. But most importantly, watch what they buy.
Manage Risk: Teachers were a constant threat to my thriving bubblegum operation. I was always one wrong move, or one pissed-off tattle-tale away from having my stash confiscated. So I only carried enough inventory for a day of sales.
Although I had a few close calls, I never got caught. But if I had, it wouldn’t have sunk my business. Only one day of product gone.
Lesson: Don’t extend yourself so much that it sinks you. It's pretty obvious, really, but lots of businesses go under simply because they got in too deep, too fast, and didn’t let their product or service unfold.
Besides, if you saturate your own market, you’ll miss out on this little gem…
Sell today: I sold out of gum almost every day. But sometimes, though, it was a close call. I’d have a pack or two left (usually Grape since I had the most of it), and I needed to dump the inventory. Not for anything important. I just didn’t want to bring it home.
Plus, if I kept any for more than a couple of days, the package got banged up in my backpack. And dinged-up gum wrappers are no way to build a brand.
Time to pull out the oldest trick in the book.
“Corey. I got one pack of grape left. Want it?”
“Yes.”
It’s called FOMO. Fear of missing out. And nowhere was that emotion more powerful than dealing with a bunch of kids with the cognitive dexterity of a fly. Guess what? Adults aren’t much different. We’re all just a bunch of crazy animals with a reptile brain that’s always trying to escape the no-fun smart brain.
And little gets this lizard brain more amped up than the idea that it might miss out on something. Whatever you’re selling, limited inventory or limited time, FOMO works whether you’re selling bubblegum, books, or Bugattis.
The cool thing is, I didn’t have to be pushy about it, either. I just gave them data and let their brain make the sale.
Lesson: If gold were as easy to find as a rock, it’d be priced like it. The fact is, the more accessible it is to get something, the slower people respond - if at all.
Keep things simple: It blows my mind how complicated some products are to buy. Here’s a customer. They want something. They want it right now. A fist full of cabbage ready to fork over. But then they’re forced to jump through hoops to buy it.
That’s insane.
So customers give up, walk away, and get it from someone who’s easier to deal with.
The gum? Twenty-five cents a piece or a dollar a pack. That’s it. Transactions had to be quick. No counting nickels and dimes. Just a simple transaction. They’d slide me the money. I’d slide them the product. Done.
Lesson: Make whatever you’re selling stupid easy to buy. Don’t make customers jump through hoops. There’s no bigger turn-off to customers than a clunky transaction process while being nickel-and-dimed to death.
Fire bad customers: Kevin. What a punk. I’ll never forget that freckle-faced thief. And I’m sure he won’t forget me either. Kevin was a troublemaker. But he and his annoying gang of friends were some of my best customers.
One day Kevin ripped me off. I slid over a single piece of grape, and he slid over a bottlecap. A bottlecap.
I asked Kevin for my money. He smirked then popped the gum in his mouth. I felt like punching him in the face. But what was I going to do? Beat him up? Tell the teacher? I was a shrimp. He would have pummeled me.
So what do you do with jerks? You stop selling them bubblegum, that’s what. So that’s what I told him. “I’m not selling you any more gum.”
Kevin had the nerve to reply, “I don’t care. I’ll get someone to buy it for me.”
His idiot friends were now totally enthralled with this face-off. I double-downed. “Anyone caught buying for Kevin is out too.”
I hope Kevin thought that saving twenty-five cents was worth those three minutes of flavor before that Grape garbage turned into a tasteless rubberband because that’s the last piece of gum he ever got from me.
The good news? I kept my customers and I never got ripped off again.
Lesson: Most people are cool. But there are jerks out there wanting something for nothing. They’ll nickel and dime you to death (if they don’t steal it). Nothing will ever be good enough. You can damn well bet they’ll end up the most expensive customer you’ll ever deal with. Leave them be and let that porcupine waddle off a cliff on its own.
Outshine the competition: Seeing my success, one of Kevin’s friends decided to sell bubble gum too. Fine by me.
He brought in a pile of boring people's gum: Wrigley’s Juicy Fruit.
He had a few takers at first. But it didn’t take long for them to dump him. Juicy Fruit just didn’t have that burst of flavor. He also carried just the annoying basic flavor nobody wanted. Plus he was inconsistent. Sometimes he’d have gum, sometimes not.
Two weeks later he was out of business and buying from me again.
Lesson: Keep one eye on your competition but your main focus should be on meeting the needs of your customers. Keep them close. Know their pains and frustrations. Talk to them. Better to let your competition worry about what you’re doing instead.
After the success of the bubblegum business, I started my own neighborhood lawn business, painted address numbers on curbs, sold ice-cold lemonade at church yard sales (gold mine!), and sold flowery stationery to old ladies door-to-door.
So, yeah, although Mom never had to save me from a burning skyscraper or Kung-Fu a pack of rabid hyenas (although she would), she did teach me the way of business as a kid.
And that’s badass enough for me.
Why does one need permission from the US government to land on the moon?
Article VI of the Outer Space Treaty of 1967, to which all current spacefaring nations are signatories, is probably what is being referred to here. It basically states that signatories to the treaty bear responsibility for the activities of their citizens in space, and that non-governmental activities require the authorization and supervision of their respective government.
In essence, if you (as a US citizen) were to launch a rocket and land on the Moon without first obtaining approval from the US government, then the United States would technically be in violation of the Outer Space Treaty. The United States doesn’t like violating treaties to which it is a party, and thus it requires its citizens to get authorization before doing things like landing on the Moon.
That said, if you were to covertly construct and launch a rocket with the intention of landing on the Moon, there is nothing stopping you from doing so at that point. It’s not like there’s a customs counter there who will turn you back for not having the appropriate paperwork, and the government certainly isn’t going to finance a mission to the Moon just to bring you back and haul you before a judge for violating international treaty.
From Paychecks to Poverty: The Collapse of American Life
Most Americans are feeling the squeeze from the ongoing cost of living crisis, struggling with an affordability gap never seen before. The current housing market and overall economy are raising concerns of a potential recession. Get the latest financial news and understand the underlying economics impacting your wallet.
What is the very first piece of practical advice you would give someone entering county jail for a short stay?
Think of the books you like to read.
Doesn't matter if you've never read for pleasure before, or haven't cracked a book since leaving school.
You're gonna wanna read now.
After a few hours of basic cable on the day room TV and being schooled on playing both Spades AND Hearts — and the difference between the two — by a 1%er with Pagan’s tats and a prosthetic leg from wrapping his Harley around an interstate pylon…believe me, you'll be tempted to take one of those putt-putt golf pencils from a red Solo cup they leave out for you to fill out commissary forms with and stick it in your left eye straight on through to your occipital lobe.
Don't do that thing.
Instead, make a list of authors and subjects that you favor for the CO to forward to the jail librarian.
(Not all jails are big enough to have a sit-down library, but most should have a collection at the very least, and a trustee with a bookmobile cart.)
You don't wanna specify titles, because the stacks will inevitably be sparse and likely censored for content.
It took me a week or two to figure out I could request books to read to be delivered to my cell, and by the time I did I was stir crazy from the day room echo chamber of the shouted conversations competing with the blare of the analog TV and the clang of armored doors.
There was a folding table against one wall with weathered board games, decks of Bicycle cards, and some dog-eared Louis La’Mour paperback Westerns along with one disaster porn recounting of the Lockerbie airline bombing.
I devoured that thing like it was a heretofore unknown Tolkien fantasy novel.
To be sure, there were a handful of inmates I encountered who didn't read at all (not even the single copy of the Roanoke Times that was dropped off daily with our breakfast trays), but they were all, to a man, right miserable bastards.
You climb between the covers of a book and for awhile you forget where you are and how you got there.
It's one of the few viable escapes available to the detainee.
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Rufus and the Radioactive Regurgitation Riddle
Ah, dear reader, prepare yourself for a story so luminously strange that it would make a glow-worm blush with inadequacy. This is the tale of a mystery that didn’t just unfold in the dark; it illuminated the dark, much to the chagrin of everyone trying to achieve a minimum of seven hours of uninterrupted farm slumber.
It all began with Rufus the Dog, Sir Whiskerton’s loyal, if perpetually jittery, sidekick. Rufus was, by nature, a dog of two extremes: fiercely loyal and catastrophically nervous. His anxieties, coupled with a rare genetic quirk, had already given him a naturally glowing, chartreuse-tinted fur—a feature that made him easy to find in a haystack but difficult to cuddle with in a darkened cinema. Or, maybe it's because he gulped down one of those experimental glowing green pickles...
This week, however, the anxiety was manifesting on a whole new level of brilliance. Rufus had, in a rush of excitement over a particularly crunchy biscuit, eaten too fast. The result was a series of small, shimmering, puddles of regurgitation scattered across the barn floor. These weren't just messy; they were a searing, neon-green.
By the time the moon was high, the farmyard was no longer dark. It was bathed in an eerie, pulsing, psychedelic glow. The neon-green puddles acted like tiny, biodegradable disco floors, radiating enough light to read a very small book by.
“I call this… the ‘Great Fluorescent Flood!’” declared Mary Hoppins, the quick-witted rabbit, who was attempting to use the intense light to file her tax returns. “The poor visibility of darkness has been replaced by the poor visibility of day-glo excess!”
The farm, which prided itself on its tranquility, was in chaos.
“I can’t sleep!” squawked Gertrude the Goose, who now believed she was laying glowing eggs, which she promptly sold to Bandit the Raccoon as “Lunar Ornaments.”
The worst victims were the airborne inhabitants. The light, intense and strange, was attracting huge swarms of moths. These hapless lepidopterans, drawn by the luminous puddles, were soon flying into everything—including the perpetually polished monocle of Sir Whiskerton, the farm’s self-appointed detective and philosopher.
“Enough!” Sir Whiskerton hissed, wiping a sticky moth wing from his lens for the fourth time. “My optical clarity is under attack! This is no mere messy accident; this is a Radiological Regurgitation Riddle!”
Act I: The Science of the Sick
Sir Whiskerton, armed with a tiny magnifying glass (and a slightly larger net for the moths), approached the nearest glowing puddle. The smell, a distinct mix of warm hay and the metallic tang of slightly off-milk, was strangely characteristic of the farm after a very hot summer's day1.
“Observe, Rufus,” Sir Whiskerton instructed, turning to the apologetic dog, whose normally glowing fur was currently dimming from sheer embarrassment. “This phenomenon is unprecedented. It is also quite frankly, garish. The key to solving this mystery is understanding the luminescence.”
Suddenly, the air filled with the familiar sound of frantic quacking and the clatter of questionable metal. Professor Quackenstein, the farm’s resident (and certifiably insane) duck-scientist, arrived, wheeling a device that looked suspiciously like a toaster oven strapped to a skateboard.
“Fēngkuáng Yã Bóshì (Crazy Duck Doctor) to the rescue!” he announced, nearly tipping the apparatus into a glowing puddle. “Sir Whiskerton, stand aside! I have deduced the wavelength of this Puke-luminescence! It is emitting what I call Rufus-Rays, a previously theoretical form of radioactive regurgitation!”
Professor Quackenstein pulled out his essential gear: a blacklight and a pair of ridiculously tiny, lead-lined rubber gloves.
“The blacklight,” he explained, flipping it on, which only made the neon puddles look more neon, “will confirm the fluorescence. And these gloves are for… safety! One cannot be too careful when dealing with potential bio-hazardous luminosity!”
He used a ladle to scoop a tiny sample into a jam jar. The duck then plunged a dangerously volatile thermometer-like device into the jar. The needle spun wildly, hitting the red zone and causing the device to emit a high-pitched whistling sound.
“Aha!” the Professor cried. “The reading is off the charts! It reads: ‘Maximum Gloom-B-Gone!’ Which, if my calculations are correct, means… it’s very glowy!”
Sir Whiskerton sighed, massaging his temples. “Professor, while I admire your dedication to scientific absurdity, I suspect the solution lies not in the gamma spectrum, but in the psychological spectrum.”
Act II: The Spooky Specter and the Stuffed Friend
Meanwhile, the initial chaos had morphed into a full-blown farmyard spook-story. The geese and chickens, terrified by the constant, unearthly glow, were convinced the luminous puddles were the footprints of a ‘Cosmic Hay Ghost’.
“It’s a spirit!” shrieked Prudence, one of the Valley Chicks, fainting with a highly dramatic flourish. “It’s the ghost of a carrot that died too young!”
“The only spirit here is poor digestive health, Prudence,” Sir Whiskerton muttered, deftly stepping over a prone hen. He observed Rufus, who was hiding behind a rain barrel, shaking so hard that his fur, usually a steady ambient light, was flickering like a dying bulb.
“Rufus, old friend, come out,” Sir Whiskerton said softly, putting away the monocle and approaching with genuine warmth.
“I… I can’t, Sir Whiskerton,” Rufus whined, his voice muffled by the barrel. “My glowing… it’s not helping. It’s making everything worse! I’m lighting up the farm with my failures!”
It was a classic Sir Whiskerton moment: the moment when the eccentric detective put down his instruments and used his emotional intelligence. He realized the cause of the neon-puke wasn't the food, but the overwhelming anxiety about the job—the fear of failing his friend, the fear of not being the farm’s reliable guard dog.
“Rufus,” Sir Whiskerton said, touching the dog’s flickering head. “That glow is not a flaw. It’s simply the physical manifestation of your inner chaos. It shows the world exactly how much you care, and how quickly you panic. That is a gift—a gift we are currently mistreating.”
Rufus poked his nose out. “A gift?”
“Precisely. Now, let us turn this ‘radioactive regret’ into a force for good.”
Sir Whiskerton surveyed the scene. The chaos was increasing. The moths were now thick, circling the puddles in a blinding, buzzing hurricane.
“Professor Quackenstein!” Sir Whiskerton called out. “Your expertise is needed for a simple, yet elegant, application of the law of unintended consequences!”
Act III: The Luminescent Solution
The Professor, still wearing the lead-lined gloves, proudly presented his moth-attracting device. It was a tall, flimsy tripod with a purple lightbulb and a solar panel.
“I call it the Pest-ilential Purifier!” he declared. “It attracts the moths… and then… it… well, it mostly just keeps them away from my laboratory.”
Sir Whiskerton took the moth-zapper/attractor and placed it near the most concentrated puke puddle. He then took a stick—a piece of discarded kindling—and walked over to Rufus.
“Rufus,” he said, “I need you to generate a very small, very specific puddle right here. Think about Catnip the Stray Cat attempting to steal your favorite tennis ball, and about accidentally sleeping in a puddle. All that nervous energy. Focus it.” 2
Rufus closed his eyes, took a shaky breath, and, focusing all his anxiety about social failures and missed naps, produced a puddle so bright it momentarily blinded a passing fly.
Sir Whiskerton dipped the stick into the fresh, intensely glowing green substance. The puddle, he noted, had the consistency of a thin, worried custard.
“Good boy! Now, we write a sign.”
Sir Whiskerton marched to the barn door, where the farmer often left packages. The farmer, oblivious to the chaos, was currently talking to Bartholomew the Piñata3, who was hanging sadly from a tree branch.
“Now, Bartholomew, my friend,” the Farmer was saying, adjusting the Piñata’s cardboard hat, “I know you miss the little bells, but honestly, the sound was giving the ducklings a complex. Just hang tight, old pal.”
Unseen by the Farmer, Sir Whiskerton used the luminous green puke-stick to write a huge, glowing, impossible-to-miss warning sign on the side of the barn door. The words shone with the intensity of a thousand tiny anxieties.
The Sign Read:
WARNING: EXTREMELY HIGH FENCE VOLTAGE. (Do NOT Touch, Says Rufus).
He then wrote a smaller message underneath, using the thinnest part of the stick:
P.S. (Don't forget the cat food. I'm running on empty.)
Sir Whiskerton smiled. The neon-puddles, now concentrated into a highly effective warning sign, had been repurposed. The excess light was now only focused on the sign, and the Professor’s attractor was pulling the last of the moths away from the barn.
“The secret, Rufus,” Sir Whiskerton announced, placing a comforting paw on the dog’s neck, “is that what makes you stand out—your glowing self, your slightly messy way of dealing with stress—can also be your greatest strength. It is a sign that, even when you’re worried, you’re trying your best.”
Rufus’s fur stabilized into a steady, gentle glow. The Radioactive Regurgitation Riddle was solved, the Cosmic Hay Ghost was debunked, and the farm returned to a state of acceptable absurdity, safely guarded by the brightest warning sign in the county.
The farm animals, finally able to sleep, were content.
The End
Moral: Sometimes, the things that make you stand out can also be a little messy, and that’s okay. Your uniqueness is not a flaw; it's just a feature that needs clever management.
Best Lines:
- "My optical clarity is under attack! This is no mere messy accident; this is a Radiological Regurgitation Riddle!"
- "The Great Fluorescent Flood has replaced the poor visibility of darkness with the poor visibility of day-glo excess!"
- "The glow is simply the physical manifestation of your inner chaos. It is a sign that, even when you’re worried, you’re trying your best."
- "The reading is off the charts! It reads: ‘Maximum Gloom-B-Gone!’"
Post-Credit Scene:
Mary Hoppins proudly presents her tax return to the Farmer. It is written entirely in neon-green glowing ink. The Farmer accepts it, saying, “Very… vibrant. I’ll file it with the glowing turnips.”
Key Jokes:
- Moths, attracted to the glowing puke, fly into Sir Whiskerton’s monocle, disrupting his detective work.
- Professor Quackenstein attempts to measure the "Puke-luminescence" with a volatile device that simply reads "Maximum Gloom-B-Gone!".
- The use of tiny, lead-lined rubber gloves for "bio-hazardous luminosity".
- The farmer talking to Bartholomew the Piñata about his missing bells4.
Starring:
- Sir Whiskerton as The Feline Philosopher of Phlegm
- Rufus the Dog as The Glowing Sidekick and Bio-Hazardous Anxiety Manifestation
- Professor Quackenstein as The Duck Who Mistook a Toaster for a Gamma Spectrometer
- Mary Hoppins as The Rabbit Who Files Fluorescent Taxes
P.S. Never try to focus your anxiety into a practical substance. Unless, of course, you really need a very bright warning sign.
After bizarre lecture from Hegseth & Trump, what will be the response of US military? Are they willing to ditch the Constitution for full-blown fascism? Will some real patriots and heroes arise from the most powerful group in the world?
I think we need to tone down the coup talk. As a veteran, the very first question that pops into mind is, “Are YOU willing to fight the war you demand?”
That then raises follow on questions:
- if it’s that important, why aren’t you already fighting?
- What exactly is it you want fought here?
A coup, a mutiny, or disobeying a lawful order are all criminals acts. Trashing the chain of command is illegal and is frequently punished with great severity. Being asked to attend a BS meeting is not a constitutional crisis, nor does it justify anything more that a firm rebuff. Poor taste is not an illegal order. Please trust me when I say that every person in that room has sat through a blisteringly stupid briefing before (a few have held them).
So what exactly is the crisis here? What demands rebellion?
Trump is the lawfully elected President, and Petey is the lawfully appointed and Senate confirmed SECDEF. Those asking for a fight, are asking these men and women to throw away their oath to the constitution, not uphold it.
You might also want to see what happens to Empires when the military starts picking emperors. It’s never good over the long run. Never. Most generals and admirals know their history. They understand the importance of being apolitical. It’s keeps the military a profession rather than political means to gaining power.
So what is the constitutional crisis that justifies the brass rebelling and destroying the fabric of the country they love?
Every person in the room with Petey has a lawyer working for him or her. Every single one. They are all in command slots, and every command has a whole team of lawyers. Those lawyers all gave the generals and admirals guidance. They all followed it.
They were silent. Their job is to be politically neutral. It’s also the only way to get Congressional approval for future promotion. Any Senator can put a hold on any promotion and it remains indefinitely unless they remove it. Going in and cheering Trump and Petey would almost certainly have resulted in democrats putting hold on future promotions.
They also have a recent example of what happens when one of their own goes political.
Anyone heard so much as a peep from this guy (Mark Milley) since Trump was elected?
Remember this? Milley was the one that admitted it was a mistake to appear as part of this partisan display. The damage to his reputation consumed him and he made repairing it a priority.
He went all in on domestic politics. Now senators comb promotion lists looking for anyone too close to Milley. It’s worth noting that Milley was given the same advice as every one else in the room with Petey. Stay out of domestic politics. There is real danger in getting into partisan domestic squabbles.
Now put yourself in the shoes of the brass.
- Is the current domestic partisan divide a military problem?
- Is there anything that military force would fix?
- Will introducing violence to a dangerous domestic situation make it better or worse?
- Are they and the country better served by making it clear that the brass won’t engage in domestic squabbles?
Americans should think very hard about what introducing military force to partisan politics means. Some of the guys in that room are full MAGA. Some are flaming liberals. They all set aside personal politics in favor of professional military service. Once we ask the military to step into politics, that mask of professional civility is ripped off. These men will then step in to defend the vision of America they hold dear. We may not like he results of who wins.
It would also open a route for future political power and irrevocably change our country. Do we want the people in that room, dedicated to war, in charge? Will that fix healthcare? Education? Innovation? Research? Manufacturing?
The path to correction is democracy. The Midterms offer a chance to bring accountability to Trump. He will last two more years. He is in very poor health and may not even last that long. American can exercise patience and show a little resilience.
Many of the people in that room have served combat tours that lasted 15-months. They operated on a relentless schedule and watched their guys get torn apart. Americans have endured Trump for less time and at far less cost than even a single combat tour. This is not combat, and the people in that room who have seen it are not about to turn domestic squabbles into real combat.
They are not going to violate the constitution. Not for the right and not for the left. That is a very good thing.
What has been your biggest career mistake?
I made the same mistake most other people make when they work at a job they hate.
Years ago I was at a job I despised.
A call center.
I’d gotten laid off from my dream job at the airlines. It felt like going from first class to a bicycle.
But I needed something.
So I took it.
It was the lowest point of my career life.
Mornings before work were spent sitting in the parking garage praying for an asteroid to blow me and my Honda to smithereens. Then, like the days before that, I’d grab my sack lunch and trudge off towards hell in a headset.
One day I got a new manager.
He asked me how things were. I responded, “I’m leaving the second I find another job. I hate this place.”
I thought he was gonna fire me on the spot. Or at least the next day. But he didn’t. He felt bad for me. Told me to, “Try growing where you’re planted.”
It was weird. Something just clicked.
I knew what I had to do.
It’s also when I realized how much I’d screwed up.
Kicking myself, I could have made my life way better, way faster. Because I’d spent years being a terrible employee. I worked as little as possible. I didn’t help out. Was the last to volunteer. Didn’t get involved. Worked the minimum each day just to squeak by. Going through the motions like a zombie.
Basically I just drank their coffee and left.
Which is also why I bombed a couple interviews trying to escape the joint. Hiring managers could smell the desperation on me. And those interviews proved exactly how much I had accomplished.
Zero.
What I should have been doing with my time there instead is this:
Going all in.
Taking advantage of learning new things on their dime. Making up my own projects to build up skills to add to my resume. Showing up on time and helping out. Getting involved. Bringing food to the potluck. Going to the Christmas party. Coming up with ideas that made everyones life easier. Working harder than everyone else to get promoted…which I found takes amazing little effort at all.
So I did.
Got promoted three times.
When it came to find a new job, things were easy. Landed multiple job offers for solid jobs. More money. Better benefits.
A better life all around.
So if you hate where you’re at, you feel stuck, and nothing is changing, the best place to start is where you're at now.
It’s unsexy as hell. But it works.
You might accidentally find yourself loving your job.
What Happens When America Falls - US Empire's Sobering Future
Lamb Tagine with Dates
(Tagine de Mouton aux Dattes — Morocco)
Ingredients
- 3 pounds boneless lamb shoulder
- 2 tablespoons olive oil
- 1 large onion, chopped
- 2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
- 1 teaspoon salt
- 1/2 teaspoon coarsely-ground pepper
- 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
- 1/4 teaspoon saffron
- 2 cups water
- 1 tablespoon honey
- 1 cup whole pitted dates
- Toasted almonds
- Lemon slices
Instructions
- Trim fat from lamb; cut lamb into 1 inch cubes.
- Heat oil in Dutch oven until hot. Cook and stir lamb in oil until all liquid is evaporated and lamb is brown, about 25 minutes; drain.
- Stir in onion, garlic, salt, pepper, cinnamon and saffron; cook and stir over medium heat for 5 minutes.
- Stir in water and honey. Heat to boiling; reduce heat. Cover and simmer, stirring occasionally, until lamb is tender, 1 1/2 to 2 hours.
- Stir dates into lamb mixture; simmer uncovered for 5 minutes.
- Spoon onto platter. Garnish with almonds and lemon slices.
- Serve with couscous if desired.
LYDIA
Written in response to: "Write a story that only consists of dialogue. "
Garret Nisley
“Did you hear that? Why would she ask that? Quick! Note it down.”
“I was dreaming, not far from here. I think you were there, sitting on the windowsill, tapping the glass.”
“Who is she talking about? Note that down too.”
“I wanted you to move. The birds they needed to come inside and wait. They get lonely out there in the snow.”
“Are her eyes open?”
“No, they’re still shut. I don’t think she’s conscious yet.”
“And yet, she is.”
“I wanted you to move, but you wouldn’t.”
“Tears. Note the tears. She’s producing tears!”
“Why won’t you move? Why do you keep calling me Dolly? I haven’t been a part of your toy chest for so long. Why won’t you move?”
“Did you call her Dolly yesterday before we began? Astounding.”
“I just want you to move. The birds! The birds are lonely! Move, please!”
“The sounds of anguish and fear, do you hear them? Don’t stop writing.”
“I’m noting everything down, you don’t have to tell me to do my job. Instead of pestering me, why don’t you speak to her?”
“Speak to her?”
“Yes! We haven’t tried that yet. Try to understand where her mind has placed her. Who are we to her? What meaning do the birds have?”
“Alright, I’ll see what I can—”
“MOVE! Why won’t you look at me? Answer me, you bastard! You’re blocking the window, and I need to open it. I’ll push you out if I have to!”
“Lydia, can you hear me?”
“No…I can’t hear you. I don’t want to. The birds. The birds. The birds.”
“Lydia, where are you? Where the birds?”
“I’m here. Your shadow. The birds. Move. Please, move.”
“Shadow? Find out more about the shadow.”
“Lydia, can you tell me more about the shadow? Can you see the birds?”
“Hear them. I can hear them! They’re so cold, you have get out of my way! I need to the window and let them in. The fire. The fire. The fire…”
“What’s she doing now?”
“I can’t say, but it looks like she’s striking a match. Several matches.”
“They won’t light, will they Lydia?”
“You bastard, you took the fire from me. And the shadows. You threw them everywhere. Who’s going to clean this mess? Where will the birds go if they have nowhere to perch?”
“More shadows.”
“The shadows. The shadows in this room look an awful lot like you. Get out. Let my birds come in. Move from the window! Get out of the corner! Leave! Leave! Leave!”
“The images she must be seeing. Incredible. Her dreams of shadows and birds, and windows.”
“This is a nightmare, mate. No question about that.”
“Should I adjust my wording then? Take note of the ‘nightmare’? I don’t know that it will matter. They don’t care about our verbiage. They care about our findings.”
“I think it’s important to get it right. Look how terrified she looks. She’s in no dream, let’s get that straight. The images she’s describing. The shadows. The birds. Do we know if birds have any meaning in a dream sequence?”
“Dream sequence then. I don’t want to argue my point any further, but you did say dream sequence.”
“Fine. A terrifying dream sequence then.”
“My birds. Give me my birds! Pick up your shadows! Throw them in the fire. Give me my fire, so I can give them life again! Give me my fire!”
“Ah, here we are. Birds can commonly symbolize freedom, spirituality, new beginnings, or communication. Fascinating, considering the circumstances.”
“I would agree. And the room? The shadows?”
“Repression it would seem.”
“Repression? Do you think she remember can who she was?”
“Possibly. She is but a conduit. There’s probability of some memory regardless of her circumstances. Fascinating.”
“Agreed.”
“Thomas, throw those shadows into the fire! Bring me fire. Bring me my matchbook and burn the shadows out of the world! We need the birds and they need us! Thomas, please! My matchbook.”
“Noting the name. Thomas.”
“I wonder of the relation?”
“Lydia, who is Thomas?”
“Stop calling me that. My name is not Lydia! Thomas! Please get them away from me! The shadows. The birds. The fire!”
“Brother? Husband?”
“I don’t suppose it matters, though.”
“It might. What if she runs into him on the street?”
“Good point. Is it time to pull the plug yet?”
“Not yet. Our time hasn’t lapsed entirely.”
“Oh God! What am I doing here! Who are you! Where are the birds? The shadows. Bring me back my birds you bastards! Where am I? You can’t treat me like this; I need my matchbook!”
“What were she to do in the presence of fire?”
“Let’s find out. I believe my ZIPPO should suffice.”
“Yes! Yes! No! It burns my eyes! Take it away! The shadows are too bright!”
“Noting the result: fire causes a stressed induced reaction.”
“What about the birds?”
“Birds? I don’t carry any birds in my back pocket.”
“Draw one.”
“Alright, but I’m not much of an artist.”
“Neither am I.”
“What are you—what is that? No. IT’S ALL WRONG. IT’S ALL WRONG. IT’S ALL WRONG. THAT IS NOT MY BIRD. BRING ME MY BIRD. MY FIRE. MY. MY. MY. MY. MY—”
“Dear God!”
“Put down your logs and help me restrain her!”
“THOMAS. FIRE. THOMAS. BIRDS. MY. BIRDS. BRING ME—”
“Pull it!”
“I can’t reach it!”
“Lydia, please!”
“STOP CALLING ME THAT. MY NAME IS—”
********
“All future LYDIA experiments must cease immediately.”
“But we were close.”
“Examine your notes again! One of your colleagues was killed. Had you not pull the extraction charge you would more than likely be dead yourself.”
“If you had read my notes, then you would see that LYDIA-4D17 had coherently and mindfully answered our questions closer than any other subject. It’s not hard to see that with more time, we would have had a breakthrough.”
“You’ve had four months of near breakthroughs.”
“Not like this. Please sir, just one more. All we need is stronger restraints, and more bodies—live bodies, sir, to help protect one another from any other LYDIA’s and their possible outbursts. Let’s be proactive, not reactive, sir.”
“Can you promise me results?”
“Always.”
“Fine. Gather your team. You have two weeks to change my mind. Go to the dig site and gather another subject.”
********
“Welcome to your new case study. Please put on the proper protective attire and follow me.”
“Now that we’re here, can you tell me what the project is?”
“LYDIA.”
“Who’s Lydia?”
“Not who, but what. Please put on your protective gear, and I will shuttle you to the observation deck. I will fill you in on your assignment there.”
“Good God! Is that woman alive?”
“No. Not yet. Gentleman, reanimation was a scientific enigma until six months ago. Our last twelve subjects have failed due to a mental anomaly that we had not foreseen. This can include vivid dreams leading to violent tendencies all the way to stagnant movements with little to no brainwave signals.”
“Who is this?”
“LYDIA-5D18. She was gathered from an undisclosed location, as you all were. Gentleman if we are successful in the next week and a half, you will have more money than you can ever imagine.”
“This is a person.”
“This was a person. Now she is a conduit, an empty shell. And more than that, she is your biggest payday. As we have discussed gentleman, if we succeed here then your last three years of salary that was so graciously provided to you per your arrival, will be multiplied to the greatest of extremities. Now, would you like to ask anymore questions or can we begin?”
“I have a question.”
“Yes?
“What does LYDIA stand for?”
“Life Yielding Death-Integrated Animation.”
“…”
“Let us begin.”
China’s JL-1 Can Make Every U.S. Base An Easy Target
The night sky over the East China Sea is deceptively quiet. A lone H-6N bomber cuts through the clouds, its engines humming like a predator gliding just beyond reach. Then, alarms erupt. Japanese radar stations light up. Screens flash red. Something massive just dropped from the belly of the aircraft. For three long seconds, it falls silently. Then, fire ignites. The missile roars alive, climbing into the stratosphere, streaking toward the Pacific horizon. Operators scramble. They’ve seen cruise missiles before. They’ve seen hypersonics. But this… is different. The codeword filters across every headset: JL-1.
What is the worst experience you have ever had at the dentist and why?
I got braces as an adult and had them removed when I was 30. My orthodontist was running an orthodontic “factory” - he had eight chairs side by side and they were always filled when I went there. He and his assistants went from chair to chair doing their thing. All of the patients were children except for me.
When the time came for them to remove the braces I was absolutely thrilled. He came in and removed the wires. The braces were attached to my teeth with some kind of glue and he let the assistant, a young woman, pull them off with pliers. She didn’t pull them off, but twisted them and when she did, they would snap off. I don’t typically have problems with the dentist but I had a death grip on the arms of the chair that day. With each snap of the pliers the tears came involuntarily to my eyes and ran down my face. The pain exploded in my head. Then she got to my eye teeth, the most sensitive teeth in the mouth. When the pliers grasped the brace a jolt of extreme pain shot through my head so powerfully that I gasped with pain. Totally by instinct I made a “fight or flight” decision and wound up my fist to fight back. The assistant dropped the pliers on the floor and ran out the door.
The dentist came to see me. “They have to come off,” he said reasonably. I couldn’t stop the tears. I was a 30 year old man, surrounded by children, completely ashamed and humiliated and very, very angry. My chest was heaving, my heart was pounding and I had my fists up ready to fight anyone off who came near me. “I’ll do it myself,” he said. He took a drill and drilled the glue off. Eventually the braces fell into my mouth and he collected them. I was soaking with sweat. He polished up all my teeth and when I ran my tongue over them they felt like glass. He wanted to show me in the mirror but I just wanted to get out of there. He gave me a temporary retainer and I bolted. I told him my regular dentist would do the rest, I didn’t care what it cost. I never went back there again. I still can’t understand why he didn’t just give me some novacaine before he hacked away at my teeth. I called him “Dr Mengele” which neither he, nor my regular dentists appreciated very much.
I am still very happy with how my teeth turned out.
Do doctors tell you right away if you have cancer?
My cousin was an adventurer ,outdoors ,sports loving enthusiast! Rounding 2nd base at 32 years old being winded and feeling exhausted was a clear indicator that something was wrong.
After, the game subsided he went to the hospital for some testing sighting his worry over shortness of breath his exhaustion. They said you are 100 percent ok! He had nothing coming back abnormal and they said you’re free to go!
Todd , a sporting man refused said he was not leaving without an answer so they ordered imagining and when they seen it…they said to report to Lexington Ky cancer hospital for the results.
Once, he arrived they said he had a mass growing from his right under arm lymph node 9 inches long and it was placing pressure on his heart sac! Stage 4 lymphoma T cell cancer he fought a hard 8 months he celebrated his daughters birthday sober refusing chemotherapy treatment , narcotics, or any medication only on these days! I watched him perish like the snow on the ground! He struggled to breathe the whole day but he was sober! Once the party ended his daughter safely tucked into bed back to the hospital for a drain plug from his heart!
In the end he was tired of the lies do this, do that, try this , try that. New drugs and new treatments. It was at this time the doctors said we have done all we can get your affairs in order. Live fast love hard your time here is closer than you might’ve wanted but none the less he died Aprils fools day 2011 3:05 PM.
Todd knotted his head at me when I entered the room and his limbs jumping from the bed starving for oxygen his eyes red glowing his body actively dying before my eyes. It’s a hell of thing to see experienced veterans call it PTSD I call it trauma that I wish I never had seen. I watched him staring out the window as he died the long last breath sent me out the door and I was gone.couldn’t handle it anymore!
1.8 million dollars bought him a few extra days of life with his family he got to see another birthday and few more baseball games. He rode a motorcycle and wrecked it (medicine cabinet) injuries he laughed about it. Well i hope this helps I gave you the long answer.
Pictures
What is the strangest thing to ever happen in Hollywood?
I don’t know if it was the strangest thing, but probably the funniest and ballsiest thing in Hollywood history was when a young Steve Guttenberg started his acting career by conning his way onto the Paramount Pictures lot where he proceeded to set up his own office, which he kept for a staggering 3 years.
To be clear, Guttenberg was absolutely not employed by Paramount Pictures… he was stone cold trespassing the entire time and had absolutely no business being there at all, let alone having his own office.
(As a young man, Guttenberg ran on an outrageous combination of brass balls, insane good luck, good looks, quick charm and an almost superhuman lack of fear for the consequences of his actions.)
But this feat of unmitigated chutzpa allowed him to run a successful pressure campaign to get himself a break into the film industry.
To give you an idea how the scam played out let’s just say Guttenberg was an early adopter of the concept of social engineering.
On his initial trip to Hollywood his parents had given him a whopping two weeks to make it big in Hollywood or go home and get a real job - obviously, they were just paying for a two week vacation to LA and had zero interest in him pursuing acting.
But Guttenberg was determined.
He spent his first few days hanging around the entrance to the Paramount lot, dreaming of working there someday. But while doing so, he noticed something that changed his world forever…
None of the security guards at Paramount checked the employees’ IDs.
Instead, the employees simply walked up to their entrance, punched in at the time clock and waved at the guards.
So the next day, dressed in his one blazer, he decided to see if he could pull the same trick without actually being an employee.
He got himself a note card, walked up to the time clock on the employee line, punched his blank card in, put it in the rack with the real time cards, waved at the guards and walked in.
And it worked.
Paramount had so many employees no guard could possibly know everyone. And since he acted the part of an employee, the guards bought it.
From there Guttenberg got creative.
He found a vacant office building on the lot and picked one of the empty offices, then tracked down internal Paramount requisition forms to secure himself office furniture. He then personally wired his new found office for telephone service.
Now, with an internal Paramount phone line, he could get past any gatekeeper. People actually answered his calls. He used this to get a commercial appearance in the short two weeks he had.
He also hung around the productions of several hit shows and rubbed shoulders with famous people. On top of this were his late night break-ins, and I’m not joking here, into the offices of casting directors, where he read their casting notes and read the treatments for new projects.
And he did all this because security was lax, and most employees at Paramount just took him for some very junior executive.
Crazy, but true.
This isn’t to say everyone bought his act, by the way.
He admits to getting caught several times, most humorously by Faye Dunaway who almost immediately upon meeting him realized he did not work for Paramount. But when he admitted to Dunaway he was an aspiring actor just looking for a break, she decided to keep his secret - she did not, however, agree to get him the autographed picture of John Wayne he asked her for.
Think about that… Dunaway caught him, and decided to let him off the hook and he still had the gall to ask her to get him a highly coveted autograph that, most importantly, wasn’t even her own.
What can I say, the dude had zero shame.
Have you met a person who you thought was ordinary but actually was from a powerful and wealthy family?
I lived in a group of townhouses in Toronto.
Mohammed was my neighbour, a really nice young Kuwaiti man who smoked a lot of cigarettes and always had his door open. Even in the winter. I smoked at the time, and in the cold winter months, I would sit on Mohammed’s couch and we would chat. Occasionally I’d get clues that his family was very well off. They had a family villa compound in Egypt with 4 houses, for example.
So he was visiting his family at that compound when the second gulf war broke out. He was actually taking pilots lessons at the time, which probably threw up a lot of red flags.
He messaged me one day, and his family wanted him to move back to Egypt until it blew over. So he asked me to help organize a shipping container and movers for all of his belongings, Pontiac Aztek included. Obviously he had questionable taste in cars. Nobody would expect a rich person to drive an Aztek.
So I helped him out, and during the quotation process they asked what port it would be going to. Pulled up Google to see if it was obvious where it should be sent. It wasn’t, so I messaged Mohammed and waited. But then I noticed it. His last name, Al-Sabah, was one of the places there. Then a bunch of scenes replayed in my mind.
I remembered his Special Passport. Why was it special?
Also why did the ambassador call him the day he was leaving for Egypt?
Back to Google. I type “Al-Sabah Kuwait.”
First result? The History of Kuwait, Part 1 - The Al-Sabah family.
That’s how I learned Mohammed was part of the Kuwaiti royal family.
I don’t miss smoking, but I do miss our chats.
Why does China impose such strict controls on rare earths? Is it just to target the West?
Leverage!!
China has been severely throttled by the US for more than 3 years and finally, finally China has decided to weaponize it's leverage over the world and target rare earths, an area where it has dominant monopoly
The Rule is simple
If SK HYNIX refuses to sell China latest DRAM and NAND memory chips, China refuses to sell any rare earths to SK HYNIX which needs UPG (Ultra Pure Germanium Wafers) & HTPG (High Tractable Pure Gallium Wafers) in addition to the latest magnets to be able to produce such chips
So SK HYNIX loses the China market which represents 27% of its total market plus will be unable to supply to 70% of its other clients
That's a revenue loss of SEVERAL BILLION DOLLARS
So what does SK HYNIX do?
They make a deal. They increase production by 30% in Dalian China
They close their eyes when mysterious shipments of DRAM Memory Chips gets ordered by a Country like Belarus or Chile only to be rerouted to China
The World needs EUVs for making AI Chips for massive Data Centers
China throttling Rare Earths and Magnets means a minimum 7–10 year delay in acquiring sufficient volumes of Chips
As a Ford Factory said, 1/3 of the reduction in Magnets is roughly 120% greater lead time meaning a slow down of at least 8–12 months every 12 months
This means a 2 Yr production would take a minimum 40 months and maximum 48 months
Slowly the West will grind to a halt
The West has a dominance in HAMT - Highly Advanced Machine Tools & Precision Tools with China import dependent on 85% of these tools on Germany (Siemens 55%) and Japan (Fanuc 30%)
However Siemens and Fanuc have a minimum 68% and maximum 96% dependence on Chinese Rare Earths and Magnets
So China says “If you cant sell us, WE WILL MAKE SURE YOU CANT MAKE ANY MORE”😄😄😄😄
China's plan is two fold
A. China can ensure that the very small supply chain on which it still relies on (Highly advanced Machine Tools, Most Advanced Memory, Most advanced Display Panels) is available by THREATENING A COUNTER EMBARGO OF RARE EARTHS
B. By the time the West can get a supply chain, which may take minimum 15–20 years, China would be able to catch up with the West in almost all areas as the West would have lesser R&D budget and lesser ability for scaled up commercial production and their INNOVATION would drastically slow down
China is simply playing the same game as the West
It has other cards :-
- Nationalize TSMC foundries in China, take over the machines
- Nationalize the Dalian Foundry of SK HYNIX and take over all its proprietary technology
That would be the Last Straw
If China decides on a total decoupling, China will play it's other cards too
Why was the Predator alien sent to Earth in the famous 1987 movie?
I don't think the Predator was “sent” at all. I think it is a choice that certain predators make to prove themselves.
There are a few things that can be learned about the Predators from watching both movies.
- They don't come to Earth very often, but they have been coming for a long time.
In the Predator 2, after Danny kills the Predator that was hunting him, this other Predator appears and tosses him this old flintlock pistol. This indicates that they have been here over a hundred years ago, and that they will keep coming.
2. When a Predator comes here to hunt, it is not just about killing, it is about proving something to the other Predators. As seen in the above scene, it is not a lone Predator that comes here, it is a whole group, the Hunter, and the Observers. As we see in this scene for Predator 2, there were at least a dozen other predators watching the battle, but they did not interfere with it.
3. There are rules that the Predator must abide by in order to prove themselves. The predators have really advanced weapons and could take any prey with ease, but they must limit themselves to the use of equal weapons as their opponents.
If their prey has long range weapons like guns,
they can use long range weapons.
If their prey only has bladed weapons,
they fight with bladed weapons
If their prey has no weapons
they fight with no weapons
4. While they fight with their form of what passes for Honor, they are really poor losers.
When they know they have lost, they set off a tactical nuclear bomb,
and think it is a funny way of saying, “You might have beat me, but you are still going to lose.”
and then you go BOOM!
So it is clear that the reason a Predator comes to earth is not to hunt, but to prove themselves. It appears that the Observers select a worthy target that they must fight with in a fair fight. It is not so much of a trophy hunt as it is a test.
TikTok Creators Are Quitting EVERYWHERE — Here’s Why
This is what happens when Capitalism takes over...
Do most people usually "blow through" a financial windfall?
This happened to my next door neighbors when we lived in Baltimore.
They were a very young couple who got pregnant, married and bought the townhouse next to ours.
Despite our age difference, we genuinely liked them. They were clean and respectful neighbors.
The young man worked as a salesman for Coca-Cola and made a modest salary. The wife stayed home with their young children.
They fought a lot but they were attentive parents to their kids.
Then he got laid off.
He immediately started looking for jobs but nothing paid as well as his old sales position. They had no savings so money got tight quickly. They got their electric cut off. Debtors kept calling. They had to bum money from their relatives.
In July, there was a carnival down the street from us. It was hosted by our local fire department. They were selling raffle tickets to win a Harley Davidson fat boy with a trailer. I think it was valued around $20,000 at the time.
Our neighbor ended up winning it!
The poor guy badly wanted to keep it. This was not practical considering their financial circumstances. So, he had to sell it.
Despite this small hiccup, we were happy for them. Now they would have enough money to pay off their bills! They would have a small savings account for emergencies while he continued his job search.
Only he never continued his job search.
Our neighbor decided to take that winter off from job hunting and live off his prize winnings.
That money didn’t last long. Once it was depleted, he had to rush out and procure a job. His choices would have been better if he had remained looking all along.
He ended up working as a Bellhop for a Baltimore hotel. He made some righteous tips there, but it wasn't regular enough to support his family.
They ended up having a 4th child and things got even tighter for them.
Eventually, his wife left him and their townhouse got foreclosed on.
Now, maybe all of this would have happened regardless.
I can't help but think his poor choice to live off that windfall instead of working contributed to their divorce and financial downfall.
What a crappy end to winning so much money.
No More Gas Cylinders… Thanks to Salt, Free Gas Forever
Hello friends, how are you, I hope you are all doing well. In today’s episode we will do a chemical experiment using salt that will produce free gas for cooking and heating at home
How and why did pepperoni become the most popular pizza topping?
I've eaten a pizza or two.
How I would explain is… pepperoni has a high “completeness” factor.
If you imagine the 15 or 20 most common ingredients, and had a computer make a bunch of pizzas, randomly picking 3 items…
… and then had a big taste test with lotsa people and lotsa little tastes of lotsa various pizza combos…
“did that combination taste complete? Or… did it taste like ‘something' was missing?”
The combos including pepperoni would score more “completeness” votes than any other ingredient.
Also… if its just pepperoni, lots… in a stone oven at 750… the pepperoni fries and curls and gets crispy edges, the cheese is protected from baking by the pepperoni and the oil so it stays stringier, stretchier.
The cheese under this pepperoni will all be like that… gooooey good.
If you like cheese that way. Not baked like on top of a casserole.
Salami has similar cooking properties, but people dont much think of asking for it.
Bacon can also oil up the cheese and change it. Depending on the other ingredients.
The other ingredients don't so much do that to the cheese. That's a part of the reason i think people would say it helps “complete” the taste of the pizza… but they might not b3 able to put a finger on “why?”.
Pepperoni changes the cheese. In a good way.
And of course, the spices in the pepperoni.
I said “a pizza or two”… its actually thousands.
And have made or delivered and taken orders for tens of thousands.
With that said… my answer is “my best guess” and not a study or questionaire/feedback.
Just… what i expect is the case.
Don't be afraid to try pizza without pepperoni. Ham bacon and pineapple is a popular combo. And some go pure vegetarian.
Not everyone includes pepperoni. But at least half do. Or did when i worked in the biz.
It took an App for White Americans to realize China is So Advanced & America is a 3rd World Country
Rosy
Written in response to: "Write a story that has a big twist."
Kelli Randell
“Come in!” she yelled, trying her best to sound cheerful. She didn’t feel safe but didn’t want anyone to notice. She thought she heard a baby crying, reminding her of a young baby she once held in her arms. Was it her baby?
The door opened slightly, and a young man with horn-rimmed glasses approached. “Hello, Mildred. How are you feeling today? Do you remember me? It’s Dr. Hutch,” he asked. He looked nervous, like he was anticipating something. He had a small instrument in his left hand.
“I feel tired. And my body… it hurts.” She rubbed her arms, pausing over areas that felt as if bent and broken.
“Well, yesterday was quite a day for you.” He waited, but when Mildred didn’t respond he continued. “Do you remember what happened yesterday?” Mildred stared back, unable to respond.
“You attacked the nurses, and we had to call security. Eventually, we had no choice but to… restrain you.”
Mildred’s gaze drifted downward. She had vague memories of screaming angrily, hitting people, but nothing defined. She shook her head.
“It was right after your visit with Mrs. Clancy.”
Ah yes, Mildred recalled. “You mean the woman who is trying to steal my life? Sorry, not woman. It. A robot.”
The memory of it came flooding back – Rosy was a robot nanny purchased to help Mildred manage life as a new parent. When she looked into Rosy’s eyes, she felt warmth reflected back, not the coldness of a machine doing a programmed job.
“Do you remember anything about what happened before coming here, Mildred?” Dr. Hutch asked.
“She wanted my life. She tried… she tried to become me. I know I'm right!” Mildred shrieked. Memories overwhelmed her of Rosy staring too long at the baby, hugging her husband a little too tightly, of late nights in bed obsessively combing through every interaction searching for evidence of how Rosy wanted to become her.
Dr. Hutch tried to redirect her, clutching the device tightly. “Do you think Rosy wanted to become you?”
Mildred looked at him, anger exploding out of her. “Yes, you idiot! I had the disabling device ready – it was supposed to stop her! To shut her down! I can’t… I don’t…” Mildred broke down in tears. Flashes of her screaming, lunging toward Rosy, aiming the disabling device toward Rosy’s neck, flooded her mind.
“Mildred, I think it’s time to discuss something. Something that might be hard to understand.” His eyes bore into hers.
Mildred looked away, the intensity of his gaze and her own feelings becoming too much to bear. “I just want my life back,” she whispered.
“Mildred, that’s what we have to discuss,” Dr. Hutch responded. He sat quietly for a minute, trying to figure out the best way to approach it. “Mildred –” he started.
A knock at the door interrupted him. He gestured for someone to enter, and that’s when Mildred saw her. Mrs. Clancy. Her brown hair was down around her face, her green eyes searching Mildred’s. She looked like she wanted to say something, but Mildred’s screams stopped her.
“You know the truth! Get her away from me!” she screamed, repeatedly like it was programmed into her and she had no control over it. She started to get up but was stopped by a feeling of heaviness that prevented her from rising. Dr. Hutch glanced over at Mrs. Clancy, concern in his voice as he asked her to leave.
“Mildred, I think we need to try a different treatment for you. We’d use this device to stimulate your parasympathetic system and help you relax. What do you think?”
She considered it. “Ok,” she answered wearily. She wanted peace.
Dr. Hutch stood behind her and placed the cold metal device at the base of her neck. He hesitated a moment, then pressed downward. Everything went dark.
==
She woke up in a small room, lying in a bed. She felt the scar at the base of her neck, gliding her finger across it comfortingly. Sunlight from a single window warmed her. A door at the end of the room was the only exit.
A knock came from the door as it opened. A man wearing horn-rimmed glasses walked through, asking, “Rosy? Are you feeling well?”
She looked up. “Yes.”
“I’m glad to see you are feeling better, Rosy. Do you have any memory of what happened yesterday?” he asked.
Rosy shook her head then looked up at him inquisitively.
“It’s probably best that you don’t. You see, we’ve been having some issues with your line of robot servants. Their coding was degraded to a point where they start to believe that they are their human owners. You were experiencing that faulty code, thinking you were Mrs. Mildred Clancy. We were able to fix it.”
Rosy sat silently, taking it in. “I see,” was all she could muster. A memory of a family, a small infant, a stressed wife and an absent husband, tugged at her.
“Rosy, Mrs. Clancy wanted to come in to say goodbye to you. Are you ok with that?” She nodded affirmatively. Dr. Hutch called toward the door. “Mrs. Clancy, you can come in.” A young woman, her brown hair in a ponytail, tentatively walked in.
“Rosy?” She asked cautiously. Rosy nodded, a feeling of deep sadness overwhelming her.
Mrs. Clancy walked closer to Rosy. “Dr. Hutch, do you think we could have a moment alone? Is it safe?”
Dr. Hutch nodded, “Yes, this is the final test. We will be right outside.” He stepped out.
“Rosy, I know it was all a malfunction, and you didn’t have any control over your actions.” She sat next to Rosy, looking deeply at her face. Rosy stared back.
“Rosy, I forgive you,” she whispered as she gave her a hug. For a second, Rosy felt an urge to grab Mrs. Clancy, to hold her back. But she released her and watched sadly as Mrs. Clancy walked out the door.
Loukomades
These are Middle Eastern eggless doughnuts.
Ingredients
- 2 cups plain yogurt
- Grated rind of 1 orange (optional)
- 1 teaspoon baking powder
- 3 tablespoons Brandy or 1 tablespoon vanilla extract
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 3 cups all-purpose flour, sifted
Instructions
- Combine yogurt, orange rind and salt. Dissolve baking powder in brandy and add enough flour to make a pancake like batter. Cover and set aside in warm place for one and a half hours, or until raised and bubbly.
- Stir batter.
- Drop by spoonsful into hot oil. Fry until golden brown, turning once.
- Drain and serve with diluted honey, cinnamon, chopped nuts or toasted sesame seeds.
- Serve warm.
The Most Dangerous Places in an Apocalypse That You Should Never Go
Today, I'll be going over...The Most Dangerous Places in an Apocalypse That You Should Never Go