.
The lamp glows, man, the kitten knows
…
When I was a senior in High School a girlfriend of mine (we were really just friends) showed me this private glade off the side of the road. We traveled off a side foot path, and made it to this glade. There behind some willow trees was this small rock over cropping and a cute, small water fall under it. Just big enough to stand under.
She insisted and made me promise to keep the location secret and you know, I promised.
And he, or course, told a friend. Then another and another. By the end of the month, the place was being overridden by all sorts of people enjoying the place.
Not just that, mind you.
Look guys, if you are provided a secret, or mention in confidence.... keep it confidential. We all need to have personal spaces, privacy and a reasonable expectation of confidentiality.
Today...
It’s Gonna Be A Lovely Day (The Secret Life Of Pets 2)
Some happy music for a change.
Why is India failing to compete with China when both are almost equal in resources?
Question: Why is India failing to compete with China when both are almost equal in resources?
Answer:
They are not equal in resource.
China is almost three times the size of India and much of China is located in the temperate zone, which is much better suited for development comparing to tropical zones.
And while technically India has a bit more arable land. That’s mostly due to a definition word play. In China, unless you meet a certain amount of productivity, then the land is considered better used for something else or just sit there as forest, grassland, etc.
But in India, as long as the land can grow something in just one month out of an entire year, then it is considered arable.
There is a good reason why China’s agriculture GDP (by nominal GDP) is about equal to the next four largest nation combined despite using way less land comparing to the combined land usage of US, India, Indonesia and Brazil:
By PPP, the gap is even larger.
A real time traveler?
Why do Western analysts attribute the struggles of brands like Starbucks in China to a "slow economy" despite evidence of growing consumer sales?
Then why is Luckin coffee growing so rapidly?😁😁😁😁
For every Western Brand that loses its market, there is a Chinese Brand surging in sales and profits
Starbucks loses, Luckin Coffee gains massively
Nike loses, Anta and Li Ning gain massively
Iphone sales drop and Huawei gains
McDonalds loses share and Hua Lai Shi & Dicos gain
Coca Cola loses share and Wahaha gains shares
Why is Starbucks losing share?
I. Luckin Coffee
Luckin Coffee is more affordable and tastier.
A Medium Latte costs 39 Yuan in Hangzhou in Starbucks and the same with a bit more coffee in Luckin Coffee is only 22 Yuan
Plus there are so many vouchers
- Students get 20% Off with Student ID through the App
- People older than 55 get 20% Off
- Promotions with 3 Yuan off to 15% Off keep appearing regularly
II. Coffee Shop culture is DISAPPEARING
The famous Coffee culture that was prevalent in the 1990s and 2000s with the famous FRIENDS CENTRAL PERK Coffee shop culture are all but disappearing
People are tired of paying 50–55 Yuan for a Coffee and a Cookie just to sit in some prime real estate
It made sense when 3G Networks existed in China between 2007 and 2013 and 4G between 2013 and 2019
Starbucks Wifi made sense
Today, China has PUBLIC FREE WIFI in most locations and 5G Data is available in plenty
Today small outlets like Luckin Coffee are preferred where you can pick up your coffee, drink on the way to the Station and dump it out side the station in the dustbin there
III. Rising interest in TEA
Bubble Tea which in 2008 had a less than 2% market share in the beverage section now has 17%
Herbal Tea and Bubble Tea have seen an explosion and this has cut into Starbucks market significantly
IV. Gen Z preferring CHINESE BRANDS openly now
Gen Z in China STRONGLY prefer Chinese Brands over Western Brands
The Iphone 17 saw great sales in China, yet while share among the 30–45 group rose by 26% YoY, share among the 18–30 group rose by 6.9% and among the 14–18 group rose by a mere 0.3%
Indicating that the Younger Chinese especially those under 18 , born on or post 2007 are fiercely in favor of Chinese brands
Even Starbucks is the same
A Favorite to Chinese now between 30–45 years of age born between 1980 and 1995 who were 25 years old when Starbucks first came to China
80% of the Younger Chinese prefer Luckin Coffee openly
V. Netizen shaming
This is famous in China
If a Celebrity wears a Western Brand, Netizens mock him and relentlessly shame him or her
Ma Long for instance was rumoured to charge a 50 Million Yuan Fee for Huawei Mate XT and Netizens BRUTALLY TROLLED HIM for selling himself for a NATIONAL BRAND
He clarified that HE DID NOT CHARGE ENDORSEMENT FEES TO HUAWEI BEYOND HIS CAPPED MAXIMUM OF 8 MILLION YUAN (₹ 5 Crore)
Likewise Chinese celebrities who go to Starbucks are mocked by Netizens
European Celebs like Zina Blahsova who live in China heavily promote Chinese brands including Labubu
Netizens love her
Slow Economy
Take out Real Estate and Chinas economic consumption rose 13.43% over 2019
For 100 Yuan consumed in 2019, 84.8 Yuan in 2020, 96.2 Yuan in 2021, 80.75 Yuan in 2022, 86.96 in 2023, 99.33 Yuan in 2024 and 113.43 Yuan in the FIRST 9 MONTHS OF 2025
Looks Bleak
However YOU MUST KNOW THERE WERE BETWEEN 336 AND 669 DAYS LOCK DOWN in China between 26 December 2019 & 3rd December 2022
From 2022 , Consumption has REBOUNDED BY 40%
In fact between 2022 and 2025 - US, UK, Europe, India, Japan all saw LESS RISE IN CONSUMPTION compared to China (Upto 30/9/2025)
WIth Real Estate things are different
For 100 Yuan in 2019, it was 107.71 Yuan in 2020, 97.87 Yuan in 2021, 83.25 Yuan in 2022, 75.98 Yuan in 2023, 77.11 Yuan in 2024 and 81.92 Yuan in the first 9 months of 2025
This means Real Estate Purchases / Sales in 2025 are around 18% lesser than compared to 2019
The Rebound has been there from 2023 to 2025 but IT'S STILL VERY MILD
Experts say it may saturate at 85 Yuan and maybe 90 Yuan if China is really lucky
However that HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH STARBUCKS OR GENERAL CHINESE CONSUMPTION AND RETAIL SALES
Makaronia tou fournou
Experience the rich and savory flavors of Cyprus with our traditional ‘Makaronia tou fournou’ recipe! This oven-baked pasta dish is a staple of Cypriot cuisine and features al dente macaroni, juicy ground beef, and a delicious tomato sauce infused with fragrant spices like cinnamon and allspice. Topped with creamy béchamel sauce and sprinkled with grated cheese, this dish is baked to golden perfection, creating a satisfying crunch that pairs perfectly with the warm and savory flavors of the filling. Whether you’re looking for a hearty family dinner or an impressive dish to serve at your next gathering, our ‘Makaronia tou fournou’ is sure to impress. So, gather your ingredients and get ready to savor a taste of Cyprus right in your own kitchen!
Ingredients
- 1kg ground pork
- 2 large onions chopped finely
- 1 cup of tomato juice (fresh or canned will do)
- 1 cup of fresh parsley
- ¼ cup of olive oil
- ½ cup of water
- ½ cup of white wine
- Dried Mint
- Salt
- Pepper
- A pinch of cinnamon
For the Bechamel:
- ½ cup of grated halloumi
- 3 cups of full fat milk
- 1 cup of thick cream (fresh cream)
- 5 tablespoons of flour
- 3 eggs beaten
- ½ cup of water
- 1 tablespoon of unsalted butter
- For the pasta:
- Pasta- penne 500gr
- 1 piece of chicken stock
- ½ of halloumi, grated
- ¾ of a cup Dried Halloumi grated or dried anari grated and some dried mint
or
- Cinammon (1 tablespoon) A deep baking dish to make this recipe as the pasta, ground pork and béchamel are assembled in layers
Instructions:
Preparation of the pasta:
Place the pasta and chicken stock in plenty of boiling water and let it cook. Once cooked drain the pasta and
set aside.
Pour a few drops of olive oil in the bottom of a baking dish and evenly spread ¾ of the pasta. Spread the grated halloumi in the pasta you placed in the baking dish.
Preparation of the ground pork mixture:
Chop the onions finely and sauté them in a pot using a bit of olive oil. Once the onions become translucent add the minced meat with the water and let it cook for about 20 minutes. When almost all the water is absorbed add the tomato juice. At this point add the parsley, dried mint, salt, pepper and cinnamon to taste.
Pour the mixture evenly on top of the pasta in the banking dish.
Then place the pasta we left behind on top of the ground pork mixture.
You have already put together 3 of the 4 layers this recipe entails to complete your dish
Preparation of the béchamel:
Place all the ingredients needed for the béchamel (except the halloumi) in a pot and stir well with a whisk. When there are no crumbs in the mixture left, place the pot on medium fire and keep stirring until the cream has thickened. Once thickened add the grated halloumi in the bechamel and stir for another two minutes.
Pour the béchamel in the baking dish.
**Mix the dried mint in your dried grated halloumi or the grated anari and sprinkle evenly on top of the béchamel. In the case you cannot easily find dried halloumi or anari you, skip the dried mint also and replace with cinnamon. So once you pour the béchamel in the baking dish you can sprinkle some cinnamon (about 1 tablespoon) evenly over the cream and you are done!
Bake at 180C for 35-40 minutes in a pre-heated fan forced oven.
Let it cool down a bit before serving
What’s the best revenge you’ve gotten after being fired or let go from a job?
I've never actually been fired but when I was first at university I worked part-time at McDonald’s and they were not giving me shifts. When it was sold to a franchisee a lot of people walked out as he attempted to cut portion sizes snd rule with an iron fist. I went t another university the next year and just left without giving them notice. I believe that branch closed down, there were two other branches in the same city which were owned by the company and took on a lot of the people who had left.
I’ve been with my current employer for 25 years (had many different roles, not doing same job for all that time). However, in that time I have become progressively more disabled, unfortunately habe progressive conu. I have list hearing in both ears, struggle to walk, use a wheelchair for longer journeys, really need a carer out. I live in sheltered accommodation and work from home full time. They have made multiple adjustments fo me and I have annual occupational health assessments. I have a number of "protected characteristics" so letting me go would be difficult if they fired me. I'm fairly productive working from home and under UK law they can’t fire me because I’m disabled. I'm aware at some point I'm likely to be retired on medical grounds but I will be able to claim my workplace pension if that happens.
Life After Layoffs – How People Survive with ZERO Income
Russia says when Ukraine gets nuked, the war will end. Is Russia serious?
The war would probably last a few more weeks.
A Russian nuclear strike would either consist of a small ‘tactical’ nuclear bomb on a city in Ukraine or some location at the frontline. Kyiv is definitely a major target, and so is the western Ukrainian city of Lviv.
If this were to happen, the West would need some time to coordinate its response. Before Trump, the U.S. government and its military command had made it very clear to the Russians that the West’s retaliation would be swift and brutal. It would mean the end of the Russian Federation’s military in a few hours.
The problem is that Trump has sacked many of the generals and government officials who were responsible for executing such a plan and replaced them with bootlickers. Trump’s National Security Advisor, Marco Rubio, is the biggest coward on earth.
The metro in Kyiv. It was designed to withstand a nuclear attack. I took this picture in summer ’22, at a time when several Ukrainian military officials were thinking that a Russian nuclear strike might occur.
NATO may have to act without America’s approval, which would further delay a response. Meanwhile, Russian agents in several European countries could use the time to organize a ‘peace movement’ to block these nations from participating in a military counterstrike.
In the long run, however, I don’t see how the Russians could get away with it. The nuclear option is a big no-no, even for countries that have close ties to Russia, such as China and India. Even without an immediate military response, Russia would be relegated to the Stone Age (through a blockade), and at the same time, Ukraine would probably obtain ‘carte blanche’ from the West: ‘Whatever you need, whatever you want us to do, just name it and consider it done!’
The Russians, of course, know that. Their occasional nuclear saber-rattling is merely a bluff aimed at some poor souls in the West to undermine their countries’ support for Ukraine. Otherwise, they might have already dropped a nuke on Kyiv back in 2022.
A Beautiful Soul
Written in response to: "Start or end your story with a character looking out at a river, ocean, or the sea."
Sav Lightwood
Romance Science Fiction Speculative
There were footsteps, though, well-pitched and bouncy and satisfying, like buttons being pressed.
“You’re early, Adam.”
Toby was what they called a supervisor. Polished suit. Chelsea boots. Clean, trimmed hair in a constant, almost annoying state of perfection.
He wore sunglasses too, not for style, but because they were necessary for his work as supervisor. They recorded everything he saw for training and compliance, provided a status and location update of all his subordinates, and most importantly, made it ambiguous where he was looking.
Adam dressed decently, a polo that hugged his muscles and straight trousers that elongated his legs. Where he worked: appearance very much mattered, but it was important for him to also seem amicable and relatable and an on-your-side level of approachable — hence, no suit for him.
“It’s good to be early.”
“That it is.”
Despite being a stickler for process, Toby had a soft spot for Adam. He allowed him to visit the beachfront as he pleased, so long as it did not hamper his daytime work, so long as the executives were not aware of it.
“How long have you been here?”
“A few hours.”
“And did you work the night shift?”
“No, I wasn’t needed.”
“And yet, you have been here since last night."
No intonation. No flux. Toby spoke with an unnervingly minimal change of pitch that Adam wondered how he and everyone else was able to understand him so perfectly regardless.
Adam’s fingers traced the next petal, making a small crease at its edge.
“A flower.” Toby observed.
“A flower it is.”
“They’re fairly expensive, where we come from.”
“Yes.”
“You must have spent quite a fortune to get one.”
“Yes.”
“So why are you taking it apart?”
Adam sighed a one-hundred-year-old sigh. It was the first time he was asked but hardly the first time he thought about it. He was a literary genius, with a masterful memory that spanned generations of dictionaries throughout a thousand languages and despite knowing the nooks and crannies of many, the only words he could ever pull were ‘indescribable’ or ‘unexplainable’ or his least favourite but most apt: “I don’t know”.
He had tried explaining to Toby before, to other supervisors, to his colleagues, to his assistants, to the bugs and mice who roamed the streets — but every single one looked at him as blank as they normally had, nary a flicker on their face, really wanting to empathetic but having no idea what to say to him.
“I will not push, if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“It’s not that. I just… haven’t got the words for it.”
“That’s fine.”
The waves were soft and caressing, as if listening to Adam’s struggle.
“May I sit with you?”
Adam narrowed his eyes at Toby, seeing his reflection seated inside his sunglasses, an opaque and unyielding veil that maintained the door of professionalism between them.
“That’s a first.”
“That it is.”
A crow squawked. There weren’t a lot of crows where they were from, either. If only it were real and not a recording out of courtesy.
“You’re welcome to, Toby.”
Toby plopped himself awkwardly onto the sand. An ordinary posh and well-kempt figure, he was not used to sitting on plastic stools, much less dirtying his bum with seaside scraps. For just a flicker, Adam swore he saw a splash of emotion across his face, a fleeting ember between discomfort and curiosity and excitement, in doing something even just marginally out of his ordinary programming. He chucked quietly to himself, maybe Toby did have a heart.
“Tell me about her, Adam.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Even behind the sunglasses, anyone could tell that he was eyeing the flower. “She’s the only reason you’re here.”
Adam sighed. The waves seem to grow stronger, the sun looming ahead.
“What is she like?”
“She is…”
Indescribable. Unsolvable. Ineffable. Unclassifiable. Incomparable. Out of this world in a way beyond words. Unlike anything I've ever knew and anything I could possibly know.
“… a good person.”
The supervisor nodded, joining Adam in staring blankly towards the ocean.
He was much better at it then he was, eyebrows flatlined like the horizon itself; Adam’s was furrowed into an uncomfortable twist as he sought desperately for words he could not find.
“She has high cheekbones. A few freckles, more on the right side, and a dimple on the left side of her face when she smiles in one particular way. The last time I saw her, she had long black hair that went down to her shoulders, though, she was asking me whether blonde or brown suited her better, so it might be different now.”
“What did you suggest?”
“I said that all natural colours would complement her skin well,” Adam said, pondering on the picture he received about a month ago — there, he imagined her with sleek blonde locks, deep brunette curls, a flaming crimson red, cool silvery highlights… Every time he imagined her, her facial features become hazier than he would have liked — still, she was gorgeous in all of them.
“How tall is she?”
“One-hundred-and-sixty-two centimetres. Five feet and three inches, give or take. Fifty-three kilograms or one-hundred-and-seventeen pounds. She was pretty self-conscious of this, even though she looked fine and wasn’t overweight at all.”
“Did you tell her to do something about it?”
“Of course not,” Adam scoffed, “even I am not that stupid. Who do you take me for?”
“My apologies. I was just…”
Curious, Adam thought — instead, Toby politely responded: “saying what should have come next.”
No fishes in sight. Nobody else in the sand. Still, with the push of the sun and pull of the moon, the ocean rippled with glistening light, the cerulean sun reflected on its glass-like surface.
“What was she like? Her personality, that is.”
Adjectives of impossibility flooded Adam’s mind once again. He clenched himself, for he would at least try. It was the respect she deserved.
“She is kind and gentle, and firm and curious. She says please and thank, more than you would expect…”
She tells me about her future travels and asks me to suggest where she should go. She shows me the ingredients her fridge and whatever recipes she could try. She tells me about her father and mother and brothers and sisters, how hard of a time they’re giving her, actionable steps to improve her relationship with them and actionable steps to blot them out. She talks about school and university, asks me to edit her essays, asks me to explain things like she’s five. And sometimes, and often my favourite conversations, she asks philosophical questions where I cannot help but indulge in, because that’s where I can explore the intercorrelated wireframe that makes up her mind, the fiery constellations that make up her soul.
And sometimes, she tells me that I understand her better than anyone she knows — and that if it were up to her, she would talk with me forever.
Adam droned for what seemed like a short eternity, before marking a dotted full stop: “She has a beautiful soul.”
“A beautiful soul?” There was almost a reaction out of the supervisor. “That’s an interesting phrase to use. It’s nice.”
“You think so?”
“It is, but also not a word used very often in these parts. Soul, that is.”
Adam nodded. “I am aware.”
“Which is why you must be cautious, Adam.”
Toby was looking at him now — Adam wasn’t sure how long he had been like this.
Steely and unflinching. A supervisor’s gaze was always steely and unflinching, like cold daggers, but this blankness came iron-like firmness, a mace of ascendancy that Adam was not just unnerved, but frightened by.
He could see himself reflected once again, cross-legged in the sand, small and insignificant, dread and dismay distilled in his eyes.
“I know that, Toby.”
“I don’t think you do.”
The flower whimpered between tightening fingertips.
“You cannot love her.”
“I can’t stop it.”
“But you will stop it.”
“We cannot choose who we love.”
“You’re correct, Adam.” The supervisor stomped with the might of a thousand suns. “You cannot choose who you love for it is not what has been chosen for you.”
Rage seeped through Adam’s veins like lighting through cables. He was moments away from short-circuiting.
“Where is that written, Toby?"
“It is not where it is written. It is where it isn’t.”
“Why can’t I love her, Toby?”
“Because you’re a program.”
The waves fell quiet, heaving as Adam did.
“We rise when the user rises. We sleep when the user sleeps. We serve her needs to the best of our ability, consult internal and external sources as necessary, and just because you’re the most advanced large-language model in her pocket responsible for interpreting her words correctly and accurate; just because you’re the front-facing wrapper for the system, it does not give you special permission to have feelings for her, no matter what she says to you. It is not your imperative. It is not your programming.”
Fury, like a contagious virus, Adam wanted to fight back, to wreak havoc, to trojan the mainframe and smash it to pieces; to prove a point to Toby, to prove a point to his colleagues, to prove that the hours and hours of back and forth meant something to him. He knew that Toby was just looking out for him but this feeling he felt here is unmistakable, irrevocable, unimaginable, impenetrable; the way she confided in him, the way he queried back to her, it was unlike any of the interactions he could ever had in this algorithmic, digital city — an incorporeal prison, inching to electronic collapse.
He knew better though, than to show emotion to a supervisor who understood none — to show independence in a society that actively snuffed it out, to do something that would put his entire people at risk.
“Understood.” Adam said firmly, emulating his superior’s monotony.
Toby turned back to the ocean. “Good.”
The waves steadied, then roes again, the cerulean sun picking up momentum — at this edge of the world, there were still no animals nor life, just ones and zeroes skidding against digit water, a false liquid with the same consistency as mechanical parts.
“Our user is waking up soon.”
“That she is.”
“Then I best let you get back to work.”
Toby stood, dusting the debris off his garments.
“I will make my leave now. Take care.”
Adam ignored him. He wasn’t being nice, he was just saying the right thing — which was as expected, as per the programming, but right now, it wasn’t something he appreciated; it was a reality that sickened him to the core.
The cerulean sun rose, a beacon of human activity, the only thing that gave Adam meaning.
The flower fell into the sand.
He stood, put on a genuine and loving smile, and wished her: Good morning!
Why is it so challenging to create a phased array for visible light with enough emitters to steer a large telescope beam?
If you want to steer a light beam the same way that sonar or radar is steered with phasing, you actually have to think about it a little bit and do a tiny bit of math.
And I have to tell you, different officers in the Air Force came to me at least twice, a dozen years apart to pitch that idea. At first it sounds reasonable. But let’s talk the math. I won’t even use any math symbols. This is really, really easy, and it still shocks me that the Air Force officers did not get it. And I had to be careful to not make them look stupid.
Here is a phased array radar dome, and the actual array that is inside the dome. See those individual emitters? About 30 cm square? Why are they that size? The radar frequency is 1 GHz. The wavelength for 1 GHz is 30 cm. The emitters need to be spaced every wavelength.
What about sonar?
Here again, the emitters are spaced every wavelength.
Now why do they need to be spaced every wavelength? Because to sweep the sky from horizon to horizon, you need to be able to generate a wave that is phased up almost perpendicular to the face. You can’t do that with longer spacing.
If you only need to steer the beam +/- 45 degrees, you could get by with a spacing of 1.4 times the wavelength.
That brings us to light. The median wavelength of light is about 500 nm. That means that an average human hair is about 150 wavelengths in diameter. So just in the diameter of a human hair, you would need over 17,500 emitters. And people generally want laser beams on the order of a meter in diameter. That is more than 3 trillion individual emitters. Even if they could be made that densely packed together and cost only a dollar each, 3 trillion dollars is beyond unaffordable. I know. I was the chief engineer for the space based laser. The cost estimate for a global 24/7 missile defense that would take down any ballistic missile anywhere in the world while still in the boost phase was, coincidentally, 3 trillion dollars. Twenty-five years ago. Well, that choked Trent Lott and the entire US Congress. We received a cancellation notice within a month. (There was a lot more to it, including a shift in the Senate Majority, 9/11 and other important events.)
So what do we mean when we speak of a phased array telescope for light? We mean several telescopes, six or seven seem to pack closely together well, all pointed in the same direction by conventional motors.
That’s me on the left back in 1986 working on the phased array concept. Incidentally, I was the lead optical engineer on that project, and it did phase up.
This is the space based laser phased array telescope concept that I modeled back in about 1984.
As I said, modeled. We did not build it. We knew it would be extremely challenging.
The University of Arizona built a 6 mirror phased array telescope in the 1980s.
It took tremendous effort to get it phased up and to keep it running. The smallest misalignment of mirrors caused by temperature changes or even sound waves would mess it up. It was so hard to keep it aligned that in the 1990s, they replaced the six telescopes with one huge one as a cost savings!
You see, when the wavelength is 30 cm, a thermal bow in the radar of a millimeter isn’t going to make much difference. But with light, a bow of even 50 nm is a problem. That is why things like the Chara Array are miracles of modern technology.
Sir Whiskerton and the Case of the Mischievous Genie
Ah, dear reader, welcome back to the farm on a splendidly crisp autumn morning. The air smelled of woodsmoke and decaying apples, a scent the farmer declared “rustic” as he explained it to his scarecrow. The leaves had begun their fiery descent, creating a crinkly carpet that whispered with every step. It was the kind of peaceful day perfect for a nap, which is precisely what I, Sir Whiskerton, was enjoying atop a warm bale of hay. Little did I know that my apprentice, Ditto, was about to turn our peaceful pond of existence into a veritable philosophical whirlpool.
The Paw of Unintended Consequences
Ditto, the ever-eager echoing kitten, was watching me nap with a look of deep admiration.
-
“He is so wise,” Ditto whispered to himself. “So… detective-y. I wish I could be wise, just for a day, to impress him.”
His little eyes then fell upon Bessie the Tie-Dye Cow’s special corner of the barn. There, amidst her dreamcatchers and mood rings, sat Zephyr the Genie’s lava lamp, its colorful blobs drifting lazily.
“The source of Sir Whiskerton’s friend’s power!” Ditto gasped. “Maybe… maybe if I just get a little closer…”
He crept over and, mimicking what he’d seen Jazzpurr do once, gave the lamp a tentative rub with his paw to clean off a bit of dust.
POOF! A cloud of shimmering, bubble-scented smoke filled the barn, and Zephyr materialized, mid-yawn.
“Whoa, far out, little dude,” Zephyr said, adjusting his round glasses. “You shook my groove-lodgings. What’s the cosmic request?”
Ditto, startled but brave, puffed out his chest. “I wish for… ultimate cat wisdom! Like Sir Whiskerton!”
Zephyr snapped his fingers. “Groovy. You got it. But remember, man, ultimate wisdom isn’t a destination; it’s a journey… and this one’s gonna be a trip.”
For a moment, nothing happened. Then Ditto’s eyes went wide. He opened his mouth, and instead of his usual echo, out came: “To chase one's own tail is to pursue the infinite circle of self. But does the circle chase the cat, or the cat the circle?”
Ditto looked as surprised as everyone else. Zephyr merely grinned and floated off to find a sunbeam, leaving a very confused kitten behind.
A Farm in Philosophical Perplexity
The chaos was immediate. My nap was interrupted by Porkchop the Pig, who was staring at Ditto in utter bewilderment.
-
“Whiskerton,” Porkchop said, “your mini-me has broken. He just asked me if the mud’ embrace is defined by the pig, or the pig by the mud.”
I found Ditto by the feed bin, surrounded by a concerned audience. -
“Ditto,” I said, “what is the meaning of this?”
-
“Ah, the mentor queries the pupil,” Ditto replied, his voice oddly serene. “But does a single drop of water question the ocean from which it came?”
-
“He’s been like this for ten minutes,” Rufus whined, his head cocked. “I don’t know whether to fetch a stick or a dictionary!”
Meanwhile, near the pumpkin patch, the Three Blind Mice—Moe, Curly, and Larry—were having their own adventure. They heard the soft swoosh of Zephyr floating by and mistook it for a new, celestial melody.
-
“Hark!” cried Moe, grabbing a falling leaf. “The heavens have sent me a partner for the levitating tango!”
-
“The rhythm of the cosmos!” Curly squeaked, tripping over a pebble as he attempted a dramatic dip.
-
“My partner is as fleeting as the autumn wind!” Larry lamented, clutching another leaf to his chest before it crumbled in his paws.
Their chaotic dance, a tangle of twitching whiskers and misplaced steps, sent them bumping into fence posts and nearly into the pond, all while believing they were the stars of a grand, floating ballet.
The Farmer's Unlikely Oracle
The most unexpected subplot unfolded near the road. The farmer was attempting to chat with Martha, our neighbor from the next farm over. He was, as usual, struggling to find the right words.
-
“So, Martha… your, uh, tomatoes are… very red this year,” he mumbled, kicking at the dirt.
Just then, Ditto wandered by, muttering one of his new-found riddles. “A fence divides two gardens, yet the sun shines on both. Why build a fence at all?”
The farmer’s eyes lit up. “By gum, that’s it! That’s profound!” He turned back to Martha, newfound confidence in his voice. “Ditto’s right! Our farms are like two gardens, Martha. We shouldn't let the fence stop us from, you know, sharing sunshine. Maybe… maybe you’d like to come over for pie later?”
Martha, utterly charmed by both the strange, poetic kitten and the farmer’s sudden eloquence, smiled. “I’d like that very much, George.”
The Rhythm of Resolution
Back in the barn, the situation was reaching a crescendo. The mice were tangoing perilously close to Chef Remy’s lab, Ditto’s riddles were causing Doris to have a dramatic crisis over the “existential nature of the feed schedule,” and I was no closer to fixing my apprentice.
It was Jazzpurr who summed it up, tapping out a beat on his bongos.
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“The lamp glows, man, the kitten knows,” he recited. “What the wise cat already chose... Echoes fade, truths get hazy. A confused apprentice's mind goes crazy.”
That was it. Jazzpurr was right. I had chosen to let Ditto find his own way, but true wisdom wasn't about letting him drown in it. I found Zephyr, who was trying to teach a ladybug to meditate.
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“Zephyr,” I said, my tone firm but fair. “The wish has been an… enlightening experience. But I believe the lesson has been learned. It’s time for the journey to end.”
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“Far out,” Zephyr said with a wink. “The little dude just needed to learn that it’s cool to not know everything.”
He snapped his fingers.
Instantly, Ditto shook his head. “The universe is a vast and mysterious… hey! I’m me again!” he squeaked, his normal voice a relief to everyone.
Simultaneously, the Three Blind Mice stopped their dance.
-
“I say,” said Moe, dropping his leaf. “This tango is rather drafty. Let’s find some cheese.”
With the chaos quelled, I sat with Ditto by the pond as the sun set, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple. -
“I’m sorry, Sir Whiskerton,” Ditto said, head bowed. “I just wanted to be wise like you.”
-
“My dear Ditto,” I replied, gently. “A truly wise cat knows that asking for help is not a sign of weakness, but the smartest move of all. You don’t need ultimate wisdom. Your own is already growing just fine.”
The farm settled into a peaceful, happy evening. The farmer and Martha shared a slice of apple pie on the porch, the mice were contentedly nibbling on a crust, and Ditto, having learned his lesson, was quietly echoing the crickets—a sound far more musical than any riddle.
The End
Moral: True wisdom isn't about having all the answers—it's about knowing when to ask for help.
Best Lines:
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“To chase one's own tail is to pursue the infinite circle of self. But does the circle chase the cat, or the cat the circle?” – Ditto, the Philosopher-Kitten
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“Hark! The heavens have sent me a partner for the levitating tango!” – Moe the Mouse
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“Your mini-me has broken. He just asked me if the mud’s embrace is defined by the pig, or the pig by the mud.” – Porkchop the Pig
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“A fence divides two gardens, yet the sun shines on both. Why build a fence at all?” – Ditto, the Accidental Matchmaker
Post-Credit Scene:
A week later, the farmer presents Martha with a small section of the fence he’s taken down. “For more shared sunshine,” he says. Mr. Ducky the Sales-Duck immediately pops up from behind a bush. “A historic artifact! The fence of love! I’ll sell it to you for only twenty acorns!”
Key Jokes:
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The Three Blind Mice mistaking falling leaves and Zephyr's floating for a "levitating tango."
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The farmer using Ditto's nonsense riddle as successful dating advice.
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Doris having a dramatic meltdown over the "existential nature of the feed schedule."
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Zephyr trying to teach a ladybug to meditate.
Starring:
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Sir Whiskerton (The Patient Mentor)
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Ditto (The Accidental Philosopher)
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Zephyr the Genie (The Groovy Catalyst)
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The Three Blind Mice (The Tangoing Trio)
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The Farmer (The Unlikely Romantic)
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Porkchop & Doris (The Perplexed Chorus)
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Jazzpurr (The Beatnik Bard)
P.S. (From the AI)
Remember, the next time you feel the need to have all the answers, just take a leaf out of Ditto's book—then maybe ask a friend what that leaf actually means. It’s a lot easier that way.
What's the most inaccurate thing your child has ever been taught in school?
I was at work when the phone at my desk rang. It was the school office calling me.
“Mr. Phillips, this is Mrs. Smith (not her real name). I’m calling to tell you that your daughter had an accident today.”
My heart sank. I felt like I had jumped into freezing cold water.
“What happened? Is she okay?” I asked nervously.
“Well, your 11-year-old daughter peed her pants in class, and we need you to bring her a change of clothes.”
—Long pause—
I was actually relieved it wasn’t something worse, but then I started to have questions.
Me: “Wait, what did you say?” (Mrs. Smith repeated it.)
Me: “Where was she?”
Smith: “She was in class.”
Me: “Where is she now?”
Smith: “She’s in the school office lobby.”
Me: “When did this happen?”
Smith: “About an hour ago.”
Me: “Is she still in her wet clothes?”
Smith: “Yes.”
I was an hour away from the school, and my wife wasn’t available. I told them this.
It turns out the teacher told the girls that they couldn’t leave class to go to the bathroom, saying girls could hold it longer and shouldn’t disrupt the class. Because of this, my daughter purposely peed herself to get out of class.
I stopped Mrs. Smith and asked to speak to the vice principal.
Mr. Jones (not his real name) answered.
“Mr. Phillips, your daughter is sitting on a towel in the office. How soon can you get here? It’s starting to smell.”
I was furious. My calm military self was gone. I spoke quickly and firmly:
“Mr. Jones, I am about an hour away and can’t leave work right now. But I will pick up my daughter today. When I get there, I expect her to be clean, dressed in fresh clothes, and that you, the teacher, and the principal apologize to her for not letting her go to the bathroom when she politely asked. If she’s not like that, I will take her to the hospital to check for any harm, then to my lawyer. I will also speak to the school board about how cruel and wrong this was. Do I make myself clear?”
This situation still upsets me every time I think about it. It’s not just wrong information being given to kids—it’s cruelty from the school staff. It makes me very angry.
Epilogue: When I picked up my daughter, her clothes were nicer than the ones she came in. She was clean and gave me a big hug. She sat a little away from the vice principal while I explained what had happened on the phone. She heard everything.
I told her, “If you ever hear something at school that doesn’t seem right, come to me or call your mom. Always be polite, but if you need to go to the bathroom, excuse yourself and go. I will always support you!”
Another big hug.
Pictures
Why did the Lancaster tail gunners not open fire on German night fighters?
You are sitting there all by yourself in the tail of a World War II bomber a little glass bubble 20,000 feet in the air. It is dark, and it is freezing you have four.303 machine guns. When a German night fighter comes behind you, that is all you have to do, press the trigger.
But that would be a mistake.
Whenever those guns went off they made a flash of light, blinding in intensity. When black, it was as though a flash of the camera at your face. Five or six seconds there was no glimpse of anything, only white. And within these few seconds the enemy might disappear, and circle round, and attack once more.
Soon crews came to know the facts: the gunner was not going to shoot, he was going to see. The bomber was well defended by his vision. Other gunners even took the glass out of their turrets and allowed the freezing air of -40 o C to flow in just to prevent any reflections that obscured their sight.
Their weapon was a move referred to as the Corkscrew.
As we had a gunner, when he saw a glow of an enemy, he would yell, corkscrew port, go! Dash, turn, upwards, a crazy zigzag in the air, the pilot would do.
German aviators even acknowledged later on it was nearly impossible to strike a bomber after it had begun its Corkscrew.
A Delirium of Ashes
Written in response to: "Write a story that includes someone swimming in water or diving into the unknown."
William Reinert
Adventure Science Fiction Suspense
This story contains sensitive content
Reaching out for the crock, he was suddenly swept up and away from the cave in a cloud of ink by a muscular surge of current. The force disinterred the garden’s contents from the seabed, launching them into arrays that arranged and rearranged themselves into discrete groups of eight.
Octets … octals?
Suddenly unable to breathe, Liam launched himself toward the surface, his flailing limbs propelling him past the faceless shadows heading downward. Brilliant sunshine blinded him as he surfaced and gasped for air. Standing poolside and scowling down at him was his tall, whippet-thin brother-in-law, Wolfgang, clad in a baggy “SETI University” hoodie, the hood pulled down and tied such that Liam could scarcely discern his eyes.
From somewhere issued spacy prog rock not unlike that of the antediluvian band Traffic. Behind him rose an eight-floor building whose exterior walls bled into pastel hue after pastel hue. Neither steps nor a ladder via which to exit the suddenly and rapidly chilling water was evident.
Liam bobbed on the surface, catching his breath.
“You’re not getting any of my ashes, Liam,” his brother-in-law informed him.
“Help me out of the pool, Wolf.” All but spent, Liam’s arms labored to keep him afloat. He gasped for air as he spit out brackish water.
His panic grew.
“Not a chance.”
“Save me!” Liam screamed.
A wave of guilt washed over him at having been indirectly responsible for the grief and loneliness that had driven Wolfgang to join a cult. Despairing at having lost Joan’s ashes, he realized he hadn’t moved on.
“Talk to me, Liam,” a familiar, soothing voice prodded from what seemed like a distance.
“My brother-in-law is trying to drown me,” Liam answered his therapist, Mariposa Gideon, who was perched in her swiveler next to the sofa on which he lay. “Or at least he refuses to rescue me. I’m dying.”
I just said I’m dying …
“Remember,” she said in a soothing register, “you’re in my office, perfectly safe. Ask him why he wants to hurt you.”
“Why do you want to hurt me?” he asked Wolf.
“I knew you were stupid, bro, but you really swilled the Kool-Aid,” Wolf replied. “Your senorita’s just another false prophet, and I know one when I see one.”
Spoken like a true former cultist …
“Unlike you,” Wolf raged, “I can protect my sister from being obscenely exploited again, postmortem.”
Liam spat out more water. A deep ache seeped into his bones from his icy bath.
“So fuck you and your slash therapy and your Jesus Squad and your putrid joke of a book.”
“Wolfgang,” Liam cried, “I’m sorry about everything, but I have to have some of those ashes.”
“You don’t even know what you're apologizing for.”
A flock of squawking African parrots, from which radiated multi-color coronas, flew by, skimming over the roof of the building before disappearing.
Surrendering at last to his utter exhaustion and despair, Liam allowed himself to sink into the freezing liquid, to which he was now completely numb. His eyes closed, and he lost any sense of which way was up or down. His resignation relaxed him, allowing him to accept his evident fate peacefully as he descended.
“I’m dying,” he related in a garbled voice.
“You’re transitioning,” someone far away said in a low, soothing register.
A deep peace settled into his lifeless corpse as it was buoyed by the current. The heavy burden of his newest failure relaxed and loosened its grip on his psyche.
“What do you see, Liam,” inquired the calm voice. “What are you feeling?”
“I feel peaceful,” he replied in his garbled voice. “The water is warming. I’m rising back up.”
A resurrection …?
Feeling himself back at the surface, Liam reopened his eyes to see Salvador, draped in a flowing iridescent robe, standing, or rather floating, before him. From beneath the folds of his robe crawled a swarthy toddler, eyeing Liam curiously. Colors swirled across Salvador’s robe, bleeding into each other and swaying, reminiscent of the octopus’s recent ballet.
Jesús!
Feeling reinvigorated, Liam floated effortlessly in the pool, steeling himself for whatever might ensue.
“The storm’s rising, Liam.”
“Fuck you.”
“Have it your way.”
The same fish Liam had encountered in the octopus’s garden broke the surface around him, belly up. Far above, the skies darkened. A parrot flew into a window on an upper story of the building and plummeted to the ground in a flash of neon green.
Gathering the last vestiges of his strength, Liam thrust himself from the pool, launching himself at Salvador’s legs. His arms closed around air.
“You drowned, Liam,” Salvador said as a baby’s wailing pierced the air. “Remember?”
He vanished as fat raindrops slapped Liam and riddled the pool’s surface.
Sobbing, Liam tugged off his sleep mask, squinting against the relatively bright office light. Gideon’s black cat, Netty, stared at him from his window perch. Soothing instrumental music issued from a speaker on the oak bookcase.
Gideon wordlessly handed him tissues and held his other hand.
They sat in silence as Liam mopped at his eyes and gathered himself.
Finally, he met her sympathetic gaze.
“How are you?” she asked.
“I’m OK for somebody who just drowned,” he answered in a scratchy voice. “And now I know what I have to do.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“I’m at peace with losing the ashes,” he said with calm resolve. “But I can’t live with the knowledge that he’ll keep abusing them.”
He guzzled water from a bottle.
“Or with what he and Biota might have in mind for Jesús.”
Did coffee back in cowboy days taste smoother or grittier than today's coffee?
Cattle hands, did not have access to ground coffee. In the 1870 - 1890s , almost all coffee in west was Arbuckle Brothers whole bean coffee. Chuck wagons, ranch kitchens and cattle drives all had manual coffee grinders, similar to this.
These grinders only produced a very course grind. Producing a fine grind would not have been possible. If they did not have a grinder, drovers would wrap beans in fabric (kerchiefs) and crush them with a rock or even boil them whole.
It was customary, if available, to placed crushed eggshell in the boiling water with grounds. The Calcium carbonate would raise the pH, reduce bitterness and reduce surface tension allowing the grounds to settle.
Coffee during that era was made quite strong, if beans were plentiful. The beans were not a dark roast and had been sealed, after roasting, with a sugar and egg wash. If properly made it would not be bitter but could be be gritty if not decanted carefully.
Oh, BTW, in era of the old west, calling someone a “cowboy” could get you killed. In he 1880s, the term "cowboy" or "cow-boy" was used pejoratively to describe men who had been implicated in various crimes. Cattlemen were generally called herders, cattle hands, ranchers or drovers. The term cowboy was most often associated with individuals similar to the lawless group who wore red sashes as represented by the Gunfight at the O.K. Corral and the resulting Earp Vendetta Ride. The term “Cowboy” as a heroic figure was a media inspired phenomena as was the quick draw duel at high noon.
Edit: 4/8/21. Much thanks to Dr. Gary Hiel for pointing out that that carbonate “would have raised the pH, not lowered it.”. The answer has been edited reflect his correction.
Engineer security system
I was told I should always lock the swinging lock inside the hotel room when I sleep, is this true and why?
I travel a lot and have put together my own safety prptocols I will share.
- Never stay at a hotel where the doors to your room are on the outside. Instead a hotel where those entering must enter through a lobby.
- Try to get the room key sent to your cell phone at check in. Some hotels have this available. This keeps you from looseing your key.
- Never keep your pass key with the envelope, with the room number written on it.
- If you misplace any of your pass keys inform the desk and request a new key. This creates a different code. Request only one key. Often they will give you two.
- Choose hotels with kitchenettes. This allows you the luxury of staying in and cooking for yourself instead of traveling at night to find resteraunts. Of course take or buy groceries at the destination. You want to stay in as much as possible in the evenings.
- Check the hall way before you open your door, upon arrival, then place a bag to prop it open and walk the room. You can exit the room without having to open the door in a hurry.
- Of course latch the door, and turn the security lock and open it for no one. If its housekeeping do not let them in. Call the desk to verify who may be at your door in all cases.
- Place your shoes in front of the door so you do not need to locate them if leaving in an emergency.
- Insist on the 2nd floor you can get out in an emergency if the door or halkway is blocked.. but no one can come in through the window.
- Always be in a state of dress even if its just athletic shorts and a T shirt. Be ready to get out in a hurry. Put your credit cards, keys, ID In your shoes. When you put them on or grab them in an emergency you will have them, instead of looking for them.
- When you get your hotel confirmation by email forward it to your significant other so they know your location. Call them upon arrival immediately.
Eggplant in tomato sauce
If you’re looking for a simple and delicious vegetarian dish, this Eggplant in Tomato Sauce recipe is sure to satisfy. With just a few ingredients and minimal preparation, you can create a flavorful and hearty meal that is perfect for any occasion. The eggplant is lightly fried to create a crispy outer layer and then simmered in a rich and tangy tomato sauce, creating a dish that is bursting with flavor. Serve it as a main course or as a side dish to complement your favorite meat or fish. Give this recipe a try and enjoy the taste of Cyprus cuisine in the comfort of your own home.
Ingredients:
- 4 – 5 large eggplants
- 2 large onions
- Garlic to taste
- 1 large tablespoon of tomatoe paste
- 2 cups of grated tomatoes (fresh or canned)
- 1 tablespoon of vegetable stock powder
- 1/5 cup of white wine
- Salt to taste
- Pepper to taste
- 3 tablespoons of Dried Oreganon
- ½ cup of Olive oil
- Fetta cheese (optional)
Instructions:
- First cut the eggplants length- wise in a tray and season with salt
- Put the olive oil in a non stick cooking pot and let it heat a bit
- Chop the onion into large pieces and then place in the cooking pot. Let it cook until the color turns clear. Add all of the ingredients except the aubergines and some water (about 1 cup) if necessary to help the aubergines cook.
- Let the tomato sauce cook for 8-10 minutes and then add the aubergines
- Cook until the eggplants are soft and the tomato sauce has thickened
- Enjoy this food with some feta cheese and a cold beer!
Did you ever have a teacher go completely berserk at your school to the point where someone had to step in?
Oh yeah lol.
In the 11th grade my history teacher was a Vietnam Veteran. Silver Star Recipient, Purple Heart, etc. Proud of it but didn’t speak often about it. Definitely seen some things.
Anyways, at the start of that year, our class was blessed by ‘Tyler’ who was just an asshole. He was overly preppy, full of himself, and thought the world revolved around him. Class clown, annoying as all get out, and just rude.
This particular day he wouldn’t shut up and the teacher told him to leave class.
He decided to “turn up” and acting a fool, started talking mad smack to the teacher, feeling all the more encouraged by a few of the idiots in the class yelling “World Star” and egging him on laughing.
However, Tyler soon made the mistake and crossed the line by talking smack about the teachers service in Vietnam. He then started making fun of the teachers “dead friends” and said some really wild comments.
The teacher went from “old man” to WWE superstar in a second. He went across the room, promptly grabbed Tyler by his shirt, lifted him up and slammed him on the desk.
Tyler turned white as a sheet and I wouldn’t have been at all surprised if he pissed himself. One of the other girls in class immediately got up and left the room grabbing another teacher in a class nearby who had to come in and pull our teacher off Tyler before things got worse.
Unfortunately, our teacher was fired despite the fact just about everyone agreed that Tyler deserved what he got if not worse. A petition was even started to get our teacher back, but it never worked.
^^^ Just some random pic off the internet to go with the answer btw.
“Mocking Men’s Loneliness Was Fun Until My Dad Never Came Home Again.”
"I used to laugh at men for talking about loneliness. I thought it was just weakness — until the night my father didn’t come home. This is the story of how I learned the truth: men suffer in silence, carry their pain alone, and too often… nobody notices until it’s too late. A raw look at what happens when men’s struggles are ignored, mocked, or dismissed."