There is this mouthwash that is popular throughout the world called Listerine. And I started using it to gargle with, when I was in the Navy.
Quite the history with this little element of personal hygiene.
Ah. My father died while gargling with it. He was found on the floor of his bathroom with the mouthwash still in his mouth after he had finished his morning shower. He apparently got out of the shower, brushed his teeth and was gargling when he had a heart attack. It was very sudden.
I used to use it in bongs in my university days. It would give us a nice cool and refreshing feeling when we were smoking with the bong. LOL.
Right now, I play this game with my daughter and she places a small amount in her mouth, she swirls it around and spits it out.
Over all, however it is pretty pricey. All things considered. I personally believe that it is twice the cost of what it should be. So I have slowly been switching to the Chinese versions. More flavors to choose from and not so harsh.
I even keep a small bottle in my travel vest. You know, for when you want a fresh and clean minty feel in your mouth.
Gargle as if your life depends on it.
Today…
This is a dangerous time…
Seriously watch this.
How “monstrous” can your thoughts be?
This is my “Monstrous” story.
My wife was killed in July 2001 by an semi driver.
He was speeding, weighed in at 76,000 lbs. Saw that traffic was backed up, was in a hurry to make up lost time, didn’t bother to slow down and ran into the rear of her full size Dodge van.
He applied his brakes 30ft from the rear of her van. The skid marks showed this.
The collision was so violent that both front wheels were severed off of the semi. The engine entered into the rear of the van caught fire and burned my wife to death.
I watched the aftermath of the accident on live TV. A news helicopter was in the area filming an unrelated story.
I watched my wife burn to death on live TV.
Anyway, to continue. I had all I could do to refrain myself from hunting him down and killing or permanently maiming him.
He deprived my two sons from growing up with a most remarkable woman
I can say here, that if our two sons had gone with her that morning to her dialysis clinic and died, there is nothing on this planet that would have saved his life from me getting retribution.
This douchebag, didn’t spend one second in jail, even though he was logging in on three different log books.
I wouldn’t have killed him immediately.
I would have shot him through both knees and elbows, permanently disabling him.
As he writhed in pain and agony, I would let him know why I did what I did. Then, I’d decide to kill him or not. I’m still not sure which way I’d go on this.
Live and remember every day why he’s in the condition he is. Or become worm food.
That was sixteen years ago and to this day I think about hunting him down.
So, ya humans can go into some dark places.
The US completely cuts off the supply of AI chips, China’s supercomputers to respond to the blockade
Mississippi Roast
Mississippi Roast is SO tasty. The leftovers make wonderful roast beef sandwiches also. You can also use this roast to make Mississippi Roast “Birria” Tacos. These are simply delicious, and it’s another good use for this particular roast.
Prep: 5 min | Cook: 8 hr | Yield: 6 servings
Ingredients
- 1 chuck roast
- 1 envelope Hidden Valley Ranch Dressing Mix
- 1 envelope au jus mix
- 1 stick butter
- 5 whole pepperoncini peppers
Instructions
- Put roast into the slow cooker.
- Sprinkle Hidden Valley Ranch dressing on top.
- Sprinkle au jus mix on top.
- Put a stick of butter on top.
- Put about 5 pepperoncini peppers on top.
- Do NOT add water.
- Cook on LOW for about 8 hours.
- Add carrots and potatoes, if desired.
What is the most disturbing image you saw today?
A man named Homer Peel kisses his wife, Geneva Peel, in 1937. She was just ten years old, and an oprhan. Peel lied to authorities initially and told them Geneva was twelve… child marriage had just been made illegal in the state of Tennessee — but Homer Peel claimed he had “saved” Geneva from the poor house, and that to annul the marriage would be to return her to a state of poverty.
The picture above is Homer kissing Geneva after a judge agreed them his reasoning, refusing to undo the marriage and returning Geneva to her husband, twenty-four years older than her. He had reportedly “promised her a pretty new hat” for her loyaly. It was quite common in the 1930s for children to marry… they would typically marry men considerably older than them. It wasn’t until 1937 that a law prohibiting it came into existence, and even then, the practice continued. The photograph is jarring and unsettling for numerous reasons.
Homer and Geneva Peel entually stayed together until 1975, when they got divorced. Homer died in 1991 and Geneva lived on until 2017, dying at 92. The couple had six daughters and a son together, and eighteen grandchildren.
What happens if you refuse a direct order in the military?
It’s a bad move that can bring you into a lot of trouble. I did that only once and it didn’t help my career at all.
A few weeks after I had been transferred from a German army armored reconnaissance unit to the paratroopers, my new platoon leader gave me the order to spend the next day in the company’s storage depot to clean weapons. It was some sort of test: I was the new guy and the platoon leader wanted to know how compliant I was. Not very much, as it turned out.
Weapon cleaning was a job for recruits and I was already a lance corporal (Obergefreiter) at the time; definitely not my job and, to be honest, I thought it was rather insulting.
I refused the order. I simply said “No, I don’t do it!”, went to my room and closed the door behind me. My platoon leader was banging on the door for a while, but I didn’t open. After maybe ten minutes, he left.
The next morning, my captain called me and I received a disciplinary punishment. Five written pages about “Why we should obey orders” and a weekend on guard duty. It was a soft punishment and everybody knew it. I wrote the effing paper (no problem) and spent the next weekend on guard duty (which sucked).
Of course, my platoon commander didn’t forget the thing but I didn’t care too much. I knew that I would spend the next months in NCO (Non-Commissioned Officer!) school, after that I had a slot in commando training and if I came back with the German Commando badge, this guy couldn’t fuck with me anymore: he had failed the course twice.
All happened exactly as I thought it would. I finished NCO school, was immediately promoted (which was very rare) and completed the Commando training.
When I got back to my company, my captain told me to step in front of everyone. Then he said: ”This guy passed the Commando course with a better mark than your old and rusty captain, A round of applause, please!”
In a paratrooper unit, rank and discipline are secondary. Your military performance is far more important.
Still, the whole thing wasn’t worth the trouble. It was a stupid beginner’s mistake from my side and I had a lot of luck: with a different company commander, I could have thoroughly ruined my career- for nothing.
Disobeying orders is a form of art and you never do it directly. You say “Yes sir!”, do whatever you want and if someone asks why you didn’t execute the order, you play stupid. That’s how it’s done.
Saturday Scaries
Space Oreos
Submitted into Contest #24 in response to: Write a story set in the dark recesses of space where the two main characters are often at odds with each other in humorous and comedic ways.… view prompt
Julia Vonalean
Who knew, really, one of them could be imaginary by now. But imaginary or not…Sirius took another step forward. “Up. My turn in the chair.”
Oren gave himself another spin.
“Oren.”
“There’s a perfectly good chair over there.” Oren said, still spinning.
“It doesn’t swivel.” Sirius said.
“Sad.”
Sirius glared at Oren, the little….. But instead of grabbing him by his perfectly manicured hair and hauling him off the chair, Sirius walked towards the doorway. “No prob. I’ll just go look through your knives.” Behind him the chair came to a halt. Slipping out the entrance, Sirius broke into a jog through the steel hallway of the ship.
“Don’t you dare touch them! That’s my emotional support knife collection!” Oren hollered from the deck.
Sirius made his way down the hallway of the ship to the third room to the right. Oren’s studious room. It used to have a lock, but now the door knob was completely gone. Sirius shoved the door open. He had melted the knob a few weeks back. Some of his finest work, if he did say so himself.
Oren’s room looked like a real life replica of perfection: it was white–the walls and ground and ceiling-and there was a bed directly across, its stark sheets laid across the mattress more smoothly than Sirius could ever get his hair to lay. To the side of that was a desk, bolted and firm, with a spotless furnish and all the drawers safely locked. He’d have to see about melting those knobs later, maybe to get back at Oren for being responsible for the loss of their last oreo. For now though, there was the matter of the swivel chair and the knives. On the right side of the bed was a sparkling glass showcase, inside which was the most impressive knife collection Sirius had ever seen. And they weren’t just ordinary knives, there were knives from nearly every person Oren had ever fought — and then some which he had picked up from one market or another. Sirius leaned closer to get a better view of a smaller knife, its blade was shaped like a half moon. It—
“STEP.AWAY.FROM.MY.KNIVES.” Oren growled from behind him. It was the voice he was famous for, the one that said ‘I’m a master villain and I’m to be feared’. At least that’s what it said to anyone who didn’t know him as well as Sirius. He turned with a smirk. “Oh calm down, I haven’t even touched them.” Oren stood in the doorway, stiff and imposing in his suit of white with gold trimmings. He glared at Sirius a good moment before stalking forward to inspect his knives.
“See? They’re perfectly fine.” Sirius said, “in fact they’re perfectly wonde–”
“You breathed on it.” Oren huffed.
“I…breathed…on, what?”
Oren went back to glaring at him. “The glass. You breathed on the glass.”
“But it doesn’t look any different.” Sirius said.
“It does too.” Oren insisted, “it just takes a sophisticated eye to see it.”
Sirius snorted.
“Okay Back! Back back back!” Oren said, waving him out of the room. “The next thing I know you’ll be sneezing on it.”
“Alright, I’m going.” Sirius said walking out. He hesitated in the doorway, watching as Oren glanced back at his precious collection. Sirius grinned as he watched Oren’s eyes snag on the tiny empty place on the far edge of the display case. Oren looked back at Sirius, and then, the man smiled.
A heartbeat later Sirius smelled the smoke.
Two heartbeats and the ship’s fire resistance system blared active.
Five. Sirius was pelting down the hallway to his bedroom and—and, it was in flames.
His…his bedroom was on fire. How was THAT even possible! The thing was made of steel. But…not everything else was: the furniture, the bed, the—“OREN!” He yelled, gripping the sides of his doorway. The vents opened in his room and released a white gas that filled the room, snuffing each hungry flame as if it were a boot and they–bugs. And then it sucked the remnant gasses back into the vents, sealing them again. Leaving behind a black scorched, smoke smelling, grave of bed-sheets and used-to-be-valuable collectables.
“Well” Oren said from the hallway behind him, “That’s a sight.”
“I can’t believe this…You don’t just set someone’s room on fire!” Sirius gestured wildly to his once semi-nice bedroom.
“Says the person who melted my door knob.” Oren said.
“You put A SCORPION IN MY BOOT.”
“Because you lost my knife.”
“I…” Sirius paused. “Well, it went to a good cause.”
Oren raised an eyebrow.
“Oh come on, scratching my initials on your armor is a wonderful cause,” Sirius turned to inspect his nearly nonexistent bed, “not my fault it somehow wandered off after that.” He poked his mattress and it dissolved into ashes. “Wonderful.”
Oren leaned against the wall. “Anyway, you’ve gotta admit, Sirius, I did pretty good hooking up the ventilation just right so you’d smell the smoke exactly a second before the alarms went off.” Oren said proudly.
Sirius wiped his now ash colored finger on his clothes and deliberately refused to look at his friend. Stinkin villain, had to be so good at his job. “I suppose you can do pretty good cleaning this up as well,” he said, “and replacing all my very valuable collectibles once we get rescued from this useless bucket of steel.”
“Hmm. I think I’m going to go on over to the Kitchen and look for something to eat while grieving the tragic loss of our last oreo cookie, instead.” Oren said, walking away.
“Hey!” Sirius barked, spinning from the sorry remnants of his collectibles. Oren was already gone. But he wasn’t going to get out of this, not this time. The oreo cookie–which was not his fault, in fact, it was Oren who tried to hoard them all up for himself in the first place–was the least of Oren’s worries. He grabbed a heavy bag from his closet and stalked down the hall towards the kitchen.
“OREN!”
Nothing, no sound. Except the thrumming of the horrid prison he’d been trapped in for what seemed like forever now. And he didn’t even have a stupid oreo cookie to solace him. Why? Because of Oren, because he stuck it in a cup. He rounded the corner of the kitchen section of the ship and stopped short. Oren was sitting on the table there, eating cookies. Chocolate chip cookies.
“You’ve had those this whole time!” Sirius exclaimed.
Oren stuffed the last one in his mouth.
“You could have left the oreos for me.” Sirius said, jerking his bag open. “But instead you put the last one in a cup.”
“A clean cup,” Oren said, swallowing. “It was most certainly clean.”
He reached into the bag, “honestly I really don’t care.”
“And I’m not going to help you cle–” Oren paused, “hey, what’s in the bag…”
Sirius chunked a shoe at him. Steel-toed, well made, firm as a rock. Made throwing it feel gorgeous. Oren gave a sound like a strangled mouse as he scrambled off his perch and out of the path of the wrathful footwear. It slammed uselessly into the wall behind. Sirius chunked another.
“Hey!” Oren yelped, ducking behind the counter, “What in the universe are you doing?”
“Throwing shoes at you.” Sirius said. Obviously.
“Now now. Heroes aren’t supposed to hurt their villain friends.” Oren said from behind the counter.
“Ah yes,” Sirius said, “except that doesn’t really matter right now, because if it weren’t for you wanting to run off and save the world from imminent disaster, I’d be safely on a planet eating as many oreos as I want.”
“Well then, you’re welcome. That would be incredibly unhealthy.” Oren said.
Sirius threw a gold trimmed boot. It plunked against the counter. Oren peeped up to stare at it, and then ducked right in time as he hurled the boot’s pair.
“Actually,” Oren muttered, “I’m rather concerned why you have so many shoes.”
“If I wasn’t in a broken down ship in the middle of nowhere, with no hopes of ever making it back to civilization, those shoes would be quite valuable!” Sirius wasn’t even aiming for Oren anymore. He catapulted a pink dotted pair of tennis shoes into the far wall, they hit it with a satisfying thump.
Oren stood, staring at him. “You mean to tell me….you collect shoes.”
Sirius threw a bright yellow sandal at Oren’s face. It didn’t even get close, of course. Oren looked at the sandal and then back up at Sirius.
“You’re a shoe collector!” He broke out laughing, gripping the sides of the counter. “How did I not know this sooner!”
Sirius paused his onslaught of shoe missiles, there was only like, one more left in the bag anyway. “They’re very expensive. And valuable.” he said in his defense.
Oren only laughed harder.
“Took me a long time to collect them all too.” He muttered under his breath.
“I’ll”–Oren said between gaspy breaths–“make sure to leave you my shoes when I die. Something to remember me by.”
Sirius rolled his eyes and tossed his bag in the corner. “I’d probably eject them into space if you did, like the oreo.”
Oren managed to stop laughing enough to bow his head and murmur, “we shall forever grieve your greatest mistake, Sirius.”
“MINE?”
“Yes.” Oren said, “You killed Mr. Oreo.”
Sirius opened his mouth to object when the entire ship beeped, as if jolting awake.
“What did my ship just do?” Sirius rubbed his ears, glancing around.
“Um…it’s not your ship. It’s mine. Remember? I convinced the previous owner to give it in exchange for his life.” Oren said.
“That’s not how I remem—” Sirius began.
“SANDWICHES.” A crisp, emotionless voice vibrated from the ship’s speakers. “THE LIFE-BLOOD OF MANKIND.”
“Hey Sandie!” Oren exclaimed happily.
“Welcome back weird, malfunctioning AI who secretly wants to murder us with sandwiches and false facts.” Sirius said. “Guess you got bored, huh.”
“HUNGRY?” The ship’s AI said.
“For people.” Sirius muttered. “And better company.”
“CANNIBALISM, PERFECT.” The AI said. “THERE IS A SHIP ENTERING THIS SECTOR AS WE SPEAK.”
A ship? Sirius met Oren’s gaze for a single life changing moment as the realization sunk in.
“We’re saved.” Sirius whispered.
They both raced for the console, and started broadcasting their existence to anyone listening. The radio fuzzed in and out for a few seconds before finally the first voice they’d heard in months came over as clear as the black in space.
“Unknown transporter. This is Fate-12, prepare for boarding.”
Sirius grinned, unholstering the pistol at his side. Oreos here I come.
What do you think about China’s J-35 Gyrfalcon stealth fighter becoming the country’s second carrier-based fighter?
The Chinese defense industry is advancing at a breakneck speed. China is only the second country in the world that will mass produce not one but two stealth aircraft. The J-31 (re-badged as the J-35 in November 2024), made its maiden flight in 2012. It is a twin-engine aircraft produced for land and aircraft carrier operation. It has been extensively modified over the years from the aircraft that made its first flight. Chinese aircraft development (J-20, J-10C, J-35, J11, J-16) was hobbled by the lack of domestically manufactured advanced turbofan engines. At present, the Chinese aircraft industry is roughly 20 years behind the USA but they have been leapfrogging over the last decade, and it is likely that the technological gap will shrink over time. The J-35 has an approximate RCS (Radar cross section) of 0.01m2 (50 square inches) in comparison to 0.005m2 (7.7 square inches) RCS of the F-35. In comparison, the latest fourth generation Su-35s has an RCS of 3m2, (4,650 square inches), and the French Rafale has an RCS of 1m2 (1,550 square inches).
J-35 with afterburners, performing at an airshow in November 2024.
The development of the J-35 in two versions is a very significant strategic step that will have far-reaching implications for China’s projection of power. With the J-35, not only will China be able to increase its stealth aircraft fleet at twice the speed of J-20, but it will also have a mix of two types (also called a hi-low mix in USAF) of stealth aircraft. It will also give the latest Chinese aircraft carriers a potent weapon system that can duel with the F-35. It is a well-known fact that Chinese are able to mass produce aircraft in great numbers. The current stealth flagship of the Chinese air force, the J-20, is being produced at a rate of 100 aircraft per year, which is faster than all models of F-35 combined. With the addition of a new aircraft, the Chinese air force will not only be in a position to phase out their 3rd generation aircraft (as of 2024, approximately 300 such aircraft are in service) but add an additional 1,000 stealth aircraft to the fleet in 5–7 years.
Vented single crystal Turbine blades is one of the highest tech products of modern material sciences.
Chinese engine manufacturers have finally been able to resolve issues related to production of single crystal turbine blades and blade cooling after spending vast amounts of resources on research and development. Unlike the F-35, the J-35 engines are designed for super cruising (travelling beyond the speed of sound without using afterburners). The J-35 was originally powered with the Russian RD-93 engines, which produce 18,300lbs (8,318kg) of thrust each. These engines did not provide the aircraft with satisfactory kinematic performance, and failed to achieve a 1:1 thrust to weight ratio even with a basic loadout. The aircraft was then flight tested with the WS-13E (also known as WS-21), which produces 20,700lbs (9,409kg) of thrust. While it was an improvement over the RD-93, it fell below the flight performance that is necessary for a stealth aircraft.
The WS-19 engine will power the aircraft. Its serrated exhaust can be observed.
The production version is likely to be equipped with the WS-19 engine. This engine is equal in technology and specification to the GE-F414-EE engine, which has not yet been used in any combat aircraft. The WS-19 features omnidirectional thrust vectoring technology for enhanced maneuverability and Full Authority Digital Electronic Control (FADEC). It is likely to produce approximately 25,000Lb (11,300kg) of thrust, making the aircraft suitable for carrier operations. This engine, combined with sleek aerodynamics and 3,000lb (1,300kg) lower empty weight compared to F-35 will allow it to accelerate and fly faster. High kinematic performance can be advantageous in BVR combat between two stealth aircraft. The J-35 is not only lighter but also has 7,000Lb (3,000kg) greater thrust compared to the F-35. An aircraft that possesses greater thrust to weight ratio is likely to perform better at certain tasks including air interception and ground attack ingress and egress. In addition, aircraft that have a high kinematic performance have a better chance of evading a BVR and surface launched missiles.
The APG-81 AESA radar.
The current F-35 APG-81 AESA radar is perhaps the most powerful AESA long range radar fitted to any multirole combat aircraft, with a range of 140miles (230KM), and a short-term peak power output of 24Kw. This radar is to be upgraded with an even faster and higher powered AN/APG-85 in 2026. This radar will be able to identify all types of drones, missiles and aircraft at longer range. The high-resolution ground imaging capabilities of the APG-85 will also be useful for reconnaissance missions, providing detailed images of targets for further analysis.
The J35 KLJ-7A(V2) radar is not only smaller in size in comparison to the APG-81, but also has provides lower resolution and less range. It has a peak power consumption of around 10Kw, and a maximum detection range of 120 miles (200KM) against a target size of 5m2.
KLJ-7A (V2) AESA radar used in the land based version of Chinese J-35 is less powerful than the F-35 radar. It is possible that the naval version may be equipped with a more powerful radar, since the aircraft will be able to produce 40–50kw of electricity.
The J-35 is equipped with several passive sensors including EOTS (electro-optical targeting system), passive 360-degree situational awareness sensors and helmet mounted display. The J-35 system software, sensor integration, speed of secure datalink systems and battlefield sensor fusion is not yet at par with the F-35. The J-35 is equipped with infrared search and track, Distributed Aperture System (DAS), which consists of several IR sensors around the aircraft for full spherical coverage, providing day/night imaging and acting as an IRST and missile approach warning system.
China has been able to develop and deploy highly sophisticated air to air missile systems. The off-boresight short range PL-10 and PL-15E BVR missile with folding fins is designed to fit into the J-35 internal weapons bay. The PL-10 is known for its all-aspect targeting capability, resistance to jamming and electronic countermeasures, and high maneuverability. It provides comparable performance to western missiles like the ASRAAM and IRIS-T, and even offers superior kinematic performance against the AIM-9X. The PL-15 missile that is currently used by the J-20 out-ranges the AIM-120D missile as well as the MBDA Meteor missile. It remains to be seen if the J-35 weapon bay is capable of carrying the long range (150 miles, 250KM) PL-15 instead of the shorter-range (110 miles, 185KM) PL-15E missile.
It is worth noting that maximum missile ranges provided by manufacturers are based on ideal conditions, and should be taken with a grain of salt. Effective BVR Missile ranges against combat aircraft are generally 60–70% of maximum advertised range for head on interception, and between 30–50% during a tail chase. In order to achieve a high kill probability (pK) the missiles must be used in their No Escape Zone (NEZ), which, in most cases, is even lower than the effective missile range.
The latest, smaller PL-15E missile with folding fin design.
In order to match the long-range capabilities of Chinese BVR missiles, the US is developing the AIM-260 missile. This missile will replace or supplement the AIM-120 AMRAAM currently in use. Interestingly, this latest missile uses radar and IR/UV sensors for terminal guidance. This missile is expected to be in operation in 2025. The AIM-260 is designed with a multi-terminal guidance system. It will have the same range as the shorter-range PL-15E (110 miles- 185KM). Air combat in modern warfare has changed considerably over time. An aircraft is now a part of a highly networked real time kill chain that includes satellite intelligence, networked ground-based radars, AEW aircraft, sea-based and other airborne sensors. The more effective the kill chain, the better chances an aircraft will have in undertaking a successful combat mission.
44-Year-Old Man: Existential crisis of life
What are some of the most epic product fails?
Would you pay $700 for a juice machine that requires WiFi to work?
What if I told you it only works with specific juice packets sold by the company, which cost ~$7 for every glass you want to make?
Oh I forgot to mention, it’s actually 25% faster to manually squeeze the juice packet with your hands, rather than putting them into the machine.
At this point, you’re probably unsure why anyone would ever buy one of these. This reaction was shared by consumers, as low sales forced the company to drop prices to $400. However over-engineering meant that each unit still cost $750 to produce. They were always selling at a loss, but now they were bleeding cash.
Yet despite the blatant flaws of their product, losing $4 million per month and a lack of customers willing to pay $400 for an inefficient juicer, they still managed to raise $118.5 million from prestigious investment funds, like Kleiner Perkins and Google Ventures.
This is the story of Juicero, a company which has now ceased selling its products, and offered full refunds to anyone who purchased their product. They should serve as a cautionary tale for any aspiring entrepreneurs who hope to get rich by solving a problem that doesn’t exist, instead of being ambitious and making a meaningful difference by solving important problems.
What will Europe do when big daddy USA isn’t there to save them from Russia?
Where is big daddy USA right now ?
Cowards.
The U.S. has been actively preparing to fight one particular country since 1949. Multiple proxy wars, and trillions of dollars spent on stockpiling munitions and weapons platforms.
There are over 3,000 M1 Abrams tanks sitting collecting dust in the Sierra Army Depot, that were purchased to fight this one particular country.
And when the moment finally arrived for the US to finally take in this arch enemy after preparing for 75 years, what was the response ?
“Fear of escalation”
Cowards!
Americans have demonstrated they don’t have the balls to fight a near peer directly. Just a lot of talk and sabre rattling.
You spent all that $$$$$ preparing to fight only to back down like cowards.
And what message does that send to China, now that you have publicly played your hand and backed down from Russia ?
Just as when you backed down from Russia in 2014, and emboldened Putin to go further, so too are you emboldening the Chinese, and you’re too fucking stupid to see that. But keep listening to Trump, who has Putin in his pocket, and admires Xi Ping for how powerful of a man he is. That’s who you just elected – a president who admires the leaders of your enemies.
Spineless fucking cowards, and strategically as dumb as a bag of rocks.
Korea – stalemate
Vietnam – lost
Iraq – utter failure
Afghanistan – lost
You’ve developed a talent for fleeing
Cowards, who repeatedly betray allies.
But you sure kicked ass in Granada and Panama!!
And you sent not one, but two carrier groups to help with the turkey shoot in Gaza. Real tough guys!
Edit for the Trump voters: the soldiers are not the cowards. The soldiers are not the ones making the strategic decisions. The politicians are the cowards, including the Commanders in Chief, and every American citizen that supports the cowardice.
Dangerous (and very few of you know it)
Beijing’s spy agency ‘destroyed large number’ of Taiwan intelligence networks
- State security ministry says more than 1,000 cases of Taiwanese espionage were uncovered in crackdown, with spies ‘severely punished’
In a post on WeChat on Tuesday, the Ministry of State Security said the cases were revealed in a series of special operations launched in recent years and that it had continued to “strike hard” against spying activities.
Completely valid reasons why men SHOULD reject a woman; with 3 examples
New Study from Japan: Covid Shots Installed Nanobots
Zelensky is now saying he has no intention of keeping the land seized in this incursion. (Just as well, because Russia will not let him.) So why did he waste his men and resources on it in the first place? Has he completely lost the plot?
He has indeed lost the plot
Has been losing so for a long time
He has been solely responsible for making Russia stronger and stronger by the day
Russian AD is unfamiliar with Himars attacks
He attacks Russian territories with so many Himars that today Russia can wipe out Himars Launchers effortlessly
Russian AD is unfamiliar with Storm Shadows and Scalps
He repeatedly attacks Crimea with these missiles and Russia can spot them a mile away and easily blow them away at a near 95% Interception rate
Russia is a creaking old army with only numbers who could collapse within their own weight
He stupidly takes them on, does a counter offensive and the Russian Bear slumbers, wakes up and begins to gradually start mobilizing, producing and making tactical decisions
This Kursk offensive is the best example
The Russians mobilized and moved within 72 hours and stopped the Ukranians at 15 Kilometres into the Border and killed the entire reserve force minus the 300–400 who are holding hostages
The Speed is astonishing
Next time it will be even faster
Plus their strategic evacuation of Border Areas
Plus their buffer zones along the Border
Bottom line is Zelensky is solely the reason why Russia is the MOST COMBAT READY ARMY ON THE PLANET
Reasons for the Kursk offensive?
It could never have been successful under any conditions
You can’t keep on entering Russia all the way to Moscow
Ultimately you will face resistance and be destroyed
Russia is the more powerful army
Just like if Bangladeshi Army invaded West Bengal, they would advance maybe 10 Kms before being cut to pieces by the Indian Army
The Reason was PR
To restore some confidence in the dying morale of the Ukranians
Instead the Russians are more determined to finish off the Ukranians
As every day goes by Russians who were reluctant to kill even Ukranian Soldiers and hoped they surrender are now ready to boil Ukranian Children in Hot Oil and make their parents watch
Time Zelensky was deposed
Problem is he knows too much
Probably Pictures of Biden and Hunter Biden with some Young Ukranian Minors on their Laps
Probably Secret Account Transfers of Wire Accounts of the Clintons or Romneys or Sunaks or Johnsons
It’s why he isn’t killed so far
Russia isn’t killing him because China has asked them not to
When this is over – I bet you will see some major Lithium extraction contracts signed between China & Ukraine in the past two years that will come to light
CHINA is NOT WHAT We Expected at ALL 🇨🇳 (first time in Shenzhen)
Do the Chinese people enjoy the same freedoms as Americans?
Women in China don’t have to worry about their own safety. A young woman can walk alone on the streets of China in the middle of the night.
You can smoke cigarettes almost everywhere in China. Although there are no smoking signs everywhere, there is no mandatory implementation. People still do what they want.
Chinese people can drink while walking. In the United States, if you drink in public, you will be arrested by the police.
The woman hangs a bag of Tsingtao beer on her shoulder and drinks it while walking
In the United States, you have to maintain your own lawn, otherwise you may receive a fine. But in China, most people live in apartments.
Chinese people are completely free to make their own decisions and don’t cook at home. Boys and girls there prefer to eat three meals in restaurants or roadside stalls. Because there are many restaurants in China, almost everywhere. Chinese people do not need to believe in God and do not need to pray before eating. Meal time is the most relaxing time for Chinese people, and there is no need for so many rituals.
Most Chinese people are not as materialistic as Americans. In Chinese life, most people pursue a simple life, know how to be content, and are more free and independent.
Is this homeless? no!
Chinese people have the habit of taking a nap. You can take a nap anywhere, the main thing is relaxation.
Especially outdoor workers, couriers, sanitation workers, food delivery people, truck drivers, motorcycle drivers, vendors, and police officers will all find a shady place nearby to take a nap.
Shorpy
How did you foil or dodge someone else’s attempt to cheat or deceive you?
Oh boy, do I have a story for this. And I didn’t even “foil” the person’s attempt, really. More like I defeated him with my cluelessness. But in retrospect what I did is the best thing to do in my situation. You’ll see later in the answer.
A little bit of background (you can skip to the non italicized part for the meat of the story)
I was born in the United States, and when I was 7 my parents moved to India, their homeland (taking me with them of course). I was in India (Pune, specifically) from 2nd-12th grade. During high school, I applied to a bunch of American universities and got in. I finally decided on UC Berkeley, which was the best school that I got into, and was really excited that the school had a rich history.
Another important point to note is that foreign citizens living in India had to register with the police if they were staying in India beyond 180 days, and also get a departure stamp from or something before leaving the country on their passport. Being an American citizen, I had to do that while living there.
However, right before I left for the US, my family and I had just obtained PIO (Person of Indian Origin) cards, letting us stay in India on a 15 year visa and getting rid of the need for departure stamps and stuff.
I was 17, ready to leave for the US, where I was to meet up with my Dad in the Bay Area who was already there on business. I was super excited (think the heart eyed emoji, I looked exactly like that), for I was embarking on an exciting journey. I am American, and now I’m pretty comfortable in my own skin with my dual American / Indian identity, but back then I was pretty nervous and confused about my own identity, which made me a little anxious about going to the US.
So here I was, at the Mumbai airport, having said good bye to my mom and aunt who had come along to drop me off. I went to the immigration counter (for my American peeps, a lot of other countries have passport control when you leave the country too).
The immigration official looked at my passport. He looked at me with his beady eyes through his glasses:
“What are you going to the US for?”
“For my education.” (Apparently having an American passport wasn’t enough)
He probably deduced in his head that I was 17 and going to the US for college so my parents must be rich. He looked at me again, but his eyes were beadier this time.
“You don’t have a departure stamp. You cannot go.”
“Umm.. what?”
“I said, you don’t have a departure stamp on your passport, you cannot go!”
At this point I was super scared, because I was traveling internationally alone for the very first time, and I had no idea what he was talking about. I genuinely thought I had fucked up. After breathing heavily for 2 seconds, I said:
“So.. what do I do? What can I do, sir?”
“See.. I’m looking for your benefit, and my benefit.”
Now you all know where this is going. However, at that point I was completely clueless.
“Sorry, I don’t get it. Do I need to do something? Just tell me what I need to do, I’ll do it, sir.”
(my Indian peeps will know why I used that “sir” for an immigration official of all people. I was trying to be respectful and not rattle an official who could really mess with you if he wanted to)
“Like I said, I’m looking for your benefit, and my benefit.”
I was still clueless. I know all of you want to scream at me: “He’s asking for a bribe you idiot!”, but remember: 17, alone and scared.
“Ok, so then tell me how I can help benefit both of us. Let me know, I’ll do it.”
He looked at me, bewildered. In retrospect I think he was trying to figure out if I was for real. He got really frustrated:
“You’re not understanding what I’m telling you, now go!” (he hands me my passport)
At this point you guys probably think I just left as fast as I could, right? Well, no. I was genuinely clueless about his intentions, I actually believed I had done something wrong.
“Sir, if you just tell me what you need me to do, if there’s any issue with my documents, I’ll fix it.”
“No! Just go!”
I was thoroughly confused by this, and I just left. It was only after crossing the security check and calling my mom to tell her this story did I realize (while listening to my own words) that I was asked for a bribe and got out of it because I was totally dumb!
So there it is. I foiled a corrupt immigration official trying to take advantage of a scared 17 year old and make some money. But I didn’t “foil” anything. 🙂 I just defeated him with my cluelessness!
Why would a highly intelligent man choose an average woman as a partner?
I’m pushing 70, and I’ve been married, happily, for 35 years.
I am highly intelligent, in the top 0.1%, and I have a lifetime of working with very, very intelligent people, including many very intelligent women.
But I can tell you from my current vantage point that if I had restricted myself to women with my IQ or higher, I would still be single. There were certainly candidates; but I was not romantically attracted to them, and would not have enjoyed living my life with them.
In contrast, my wife and I are very compatible. We like the same kinds of food, and restaurants, and entertainment on TV and in movies, we like the same music, we like the same kinds of sex, we like the same kinds of vacations, we have the same political beliefs, we like and donate to the same charities, we like the same comedians.
It is very, very easy to live with my wife; and she is not a slave, we split our domestic duties evenly.
My life is not about being intelligent. That is my job, and I don’t need to bring it home, or discuss it with my wife, or get any ideas from her on how to move forward.
In my job I am surrounded by very smart engineers and technologists, including many women, and I can discuss problems and technical issues with them, and for the most part not have to spend an hour explaining my ideas.
The only thing my wife knows about my job is that some decades ago I invented something for the Federal Aviation Administration, and I told her it was to “Help keep planes from falling out of the sky, because the FAA frowns on that.”
That’s the one she remembers, a single four month contract out of 35 years.
I get my fill of intellectual conversation in other ways; I am with my wife to relax and have fun, and that does not have to be intellectual in the least. The only time it is, is when occasionally she wants me to explain something to her. I know her well, and I am smart enough to explain what she wants to know in terms she will understand and be satisfied with.
OMG!
Half of Forever
Submitted into Contest #24 in response to: Write a story set in the dark recesses of space where the two main characters are often at odds with each other in humorous and comedic ways.… view prompt
Morgan Elbert
“I’m doing my inspections,” One replied.
“You’re wasting time and you know it!”
“ME? Never. Why on Doppel would I ever do something like that?” he asked, faking an aghast expression.
“Duuuude….”
He ignored the plea.
“Duuuuuuuuuude.”
He continued fiddling with his equipment, turning away from the door to hide a smile.
“Gawwwwd, dude.”
One started laughing.
“Alright, I’m coming, Twenty-Seven. Calm down,” he said, crossing through the door at last.
Twenty-Seven tackled him.
“Dude, it is so freakin’ lonely in this tin can, man. I don’t know what to do with myself,” he said, latching on to One’s back.
“Maybe you should try studying or reading or something,” One replied, pulling away from the younger man, “you haven’t been alive long enough to be this bored.”
“I’m plenty old enough to be bored, bro,” came the indignant reply.
“Dude, you’ve been alive 46 days. I activated the Womb for you less than 3 months ago. You have no right to be this bored.”
“Yeah, and you’ve only been alive, what, 180 days?” the young man asked sarcastically, though he knew the actual count was much longer.
“I’ve been here forever.” A cold and measured response.
The younger man scoffed before jumping on One’s back again.
One pulled away once more and went to the bunk room. Twenty-Seven followed him closely, something clearly on his mind. One turned to him.
“What’s up, man?” he asked tiredly.
“It’s just — Man, uh — What happened to Twenty-Six?”
“I’ve told you what happened to Twenty-Six.”
“No, you just said you needed a replacement.”
“That’s what happened to Twenty-Six. He needed replaced.”
“Dude, you know what I mean.”
“Twenty-Six died.”
“Well doy. How?”
“We’re in space. Even if we weren’t, death is a certainty.”
“Dude, One, you are the worst at answering questions, like, ever.”
One laughed.
“Yeah, but I’m still the best teacher you’ve ever known.” he chuckled.
“You’re also the worst everything I’ve ever known,” Twenty-Seven quipped.
The men stood in silence briefly. One lowered himself onto his bunk. Twenty-Seven watched him, an increasingly tragic expression spreading across his face. One leaned back and closed his eyes tightly, intentionally refusing to see the younger man’s pitiful appearance. He was tired of answering these questions with each new iteration. At this point, it seemed an exercise in futility.
Each story ended the same, each life coming to the same closing line; never anything special. It had become easier with each passing individual. Two had been a real struggle. One had been uncertain that he would ever recover from losing his first second hand man. He had tried to make himself disconnect since then. He spent more time outside the station when he could. Tried to be independent from them. But Twenty-Seven — Twenty-Seven reminded him too much of himself in the very beginning, beyond the obvious fact that they had the exact same face, the same DNA. Each of the men had the same face and DNA; that wasn’t special. Somehow though, Twenty-Seven was special. Excitable and eager to know whatever he could. Stifled by life inside the Doppel. It took great effort to remain aloof with this one. One reflected on the lives of the others, how shockingly dissimilar they had all been, all facts considered, and yet they all ended the same. Such is life, he thought to himself.
One woke up naturally for the first time in what felt like ages. No klaxon blaring, no clingy crewmate awaiting his eyes to flutter open. “Good,” he thought. Perhaps at last Twenty-Seven had gotten the hint to stop asking so many questions. He rose slowly, stretching his aching body. The human body was not designed to spend its entire life in space. Even One, essentially created for that purpose, still struggled with the effects.
One found Twenty-Seven sitting quietly near the com panel and staring through the view screen at the celestial bodies of Dorra that blinked and flickered around them.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he whispered, placing his hand on Twenty-Seven’s shoulder.
“Yeah, yeah,” Twenty-Seven responded, being jarred from whatever distant reality his mind had ventured off to.
“So like me,” One thought with a gentle smile, before saying “Get some sleep, man.”
Twenty-Seven rose mindlessly and followed the instruction. “How long has he been awake?” One wondered, before taking Twenty-Seven’s place at the com. Still no message from the Union. One felt a familiar twinge of concern, before shaking it off. What did it matter, really, he asked himself. He went about his routine, checking the equipment, checking readings, looking for anything that might have gone awry during his rest. He was relieved to find there had been nothing out of the ordinary, and returned to his studies.
“Tell me what happened to Twenty-Six,” a groggy voice croaked from behind One. He had been reading for hours, and the sudden reminder that he was not alone startled him.
“Christ, man!” he yelled.
“Tell me,” Twenty-Seven said again, “I need to know.”
“You already know.”
“I know he’s dead. I don’t know how he got there.”
“Does it even matter?” One shot back, “Dead is dead. Who cares how anyone arrived at dead. All that matters is that they are dead.”
“What happened to you, man,” Twenty-Seven asked quietly.
“What do you mean?”
“What happened to you? Seriously, how can it not matter how they got there? Dead is DEAD, man! Becoming dead is a big freakin’ deal.”
“Drop it,” One yelled. He felt his long stifled emotions bubbling up inside him.
Twenty-Seven was silent.
One was silent.
The silence became its own entity. A threesome to their short staffed company. It floated down on them and wrapped them up, holding them against one another. One stared at Twenty-Seven, staring at his own face. Younger, not so worn down by the nihilism, unscathed by the repeated witnessing of death after death. Hair still cut to regulation. Twenty-Seven stared back, tears prickling at his eyes and throat. He saw himself, and yet something completely different. Long, unkempt hair licking at that uncanny face, yet the skin pulled differently. Tighter, and yet wrinkling slightly around the eyes, across the forehead. That face no longer held its softness. Silence coiled tighter, beginning to hint at suffocation.
“Look, I can’t tell you what happened to them, man,” One whispered through the smog of silence that nestled around them, “I just can’t do it again.”
Twenty-Seven nodded slowly. Time drifted without meaning again, the way it had for so long, the way it always would, but in that moment, it was palpable.
An alarm blasted through the station, nearly shaking the men. Something was wrong. Severely wrong. The silence that had enveloped them was eradicated. They rushed to the com to see if they could see anything. The view screen was blank. The instruments were going berserk. Inconsistent and chaotic readings flashed over and over before the entire com powered down. The lights dimmed inside the vessel, and a warning message began repeating itself. One looked to Twenty-Seven. The young man’s face was contorted into fear and frown. One patted him on the shoulder. “I’m going outside,” he shouted over the various sirens and messages the station’s computer blasted through the hull. Twenty-Seven grabbed his hand. “I’ll go,” he yelled, but One slipped away and ran for the airlock.
One grabbed his gear and slipped it on far more quickly than he ever had. This was not how these situations were typically handled. The man with seniority was not the one who was supposed to go out during the outages, but he didn’t care. Regulations be damned. He wasn’t going to watch it happen again. Twenty-Seven stood at the doorway, watching One as he dressed, screaming something unheard through the chaos that shattered everything he had ever known. One heard as Twenty-Seven began trying to open the door into the airlock and before the younger man could progress, he opened the outer door, effectively locking the rest of the station down until proper procedures allowed things to open again.
One ventured out onto the shell of the station where he had spent his life. He immediately saw where the vessel had been struck by some manner of space debris. Two of the twelve power cells placed around the outside of the ship had been knocked loose, likely causing a short in the circuit and causing the power levels to fluctuate inside. He set to repairing the damaged pieces, and looked up to see still more hurtling towards the Doppel. He worked as quickly as he could, but it was not fast enough. He had only been able to repair one of the cells before the next impact. A small piece of rock struck him at such velocity it tore through the arm of his suit. Safety procedures activated. The arm was severed off and sealed instantaneously. The temperature rose rapidly on the blade inside the sleeve, cauterizing the amputation. One screamed in pain, though from everything he had read, this was nothing compared to what would have happened without the guillotine effect of his suit. He had poured over the manuals that warned of what could happen in these circumstances. How the water in human skin would vaporise in the absence of atmospheric pressure; moisture on the tongue would boil. All of that, of course, only mattered if the rest of you somehow had oxygen and protection from the vacuum of space. The hud began a countdown, indicating how long he had left without receiving proper medical attention. These suits, while advanced technology, could simply not stave off human death without other measures being taken to recover.
One’s mind flashed back, again and again, to each of the different men he had lost during his time on the station. Had this been what they had felt? This fear? This — well, this relief? What sort of emotional cocktail did they each experience? Were they — Was he — glad? He felt himself floating away from the hull of the station. The impact must have been enough to separate his magnetic boots from the titanium. It was a weak bond anyway. It only made sense that it would have. As he rotated away from the only home he had ever known, the only home he could ever have known, he tried not to imagine the face of his protege. He tried not to see that same face, over and over again in his mind. The fear. God, the fear. Two’s final scream flashed through his mind. Eleven. Nineteen. Each face, the same, and yet so different in that final moment. Each death had been different, but was that even possible? Each had taken place in the same location — this godforsaken station in this corner of this godforsaken galaxy. Each death of the same person, genetically. How could it have been so different each time? The urgency of the message in his hud increased, counting away One’s final seconds, and he felt a feeling of anticipation. Of impending freedom?
The Womb hummed in the background as Twenty-Seven sat at the com, studying up on life in the olden days, back on Earth. He absent-mindedly worked his finger through the scars on his face. The scars he had put there with a broken piece of the ship gathered during a repair mission. They were designs he had created after discovering the concept of “tattoos” during one of his deep dives into old human culture. It was his only way of feeling different. When at last the Womb unlocked, he felt a very slight tickle of excitement. What it would be to not be alone again, even for a little while. He tried to stifle the feeling. He knew how this always ended.
“Welcome to the Doppel,” the computer voice chirped pleasantly.
Twenty-Seven stepped into the room to watch the new arrival recover from the incubation process. It sat up slowly, rising out of the pink amniotic fluid that each of the men was born from, stretching its back and arms. It looked around. Focusing on his face. It blinked several times, and he waited patiently for the eyes to focus. It took some time, this orientation to the world of the living. Fortunately, each of the clones was born with the ability to understand language and to speak it; once they figured out how to make their vocal cords work, anyway. The amnion drained from the incubation pod and the hatch opened, allowing the newest arrival to the station to step out into its new home.
Twenty-Seven leaned against the wall. His hair was long, tumbling down his shoulders. His hand stroked his beard out of habit.
“Get some clothes on and find me for orientation when you’re ready,” he said coldly before walking out of the Womb. Something made him hesitate for a moment, and he turned back to his newest crewmate. Maybe this time it would be different. He cleared his throat.
“And, uh, welcome to the Doppel, Forty-Nine. I think you’re gonna like it here.”
“Wait. Sorry, I just wondered. How long have you been here?” the new man smiled awkwardly before asking, as his eyes slowly took in the haggard face of his superior.
Twenty-Seven shook his head and chuckled.
“About half of forever, man.”
Figurative Sketches
How did you foil or dodge someone else’s attempt to cheat or deceive you?
Recently, I was at my parents’ house (it is empty now) and the phone rang. A guy with a strong Mexican accent asked for my grandma (who passed away a few years ago, but the landline is on her name) and I said it was me. I thought it was an extortion call…
Mexican man: It is me, auntie!
Me: who is it?
MM: Me! Your beloved relative! Don’t you remember me anymore? I left Guatemala so long ago! Guess who am I!!
Me: Quique!!! So nice to hear from you! How are you mijo? How are your wife and kids?
MM: Well, we are all ok! Look auntie, I want to surprise my family, but I got stuck in Mexico DF Airport! Please help me not to blow the surprise! I need money to pay some taxes here. Can you send me $1000 through Western Union today? I will pay you back tomorrow as soon as I fix this!
Me: Are you sure you will fix it with only $1000? I can send you more just in case…
MM: Thanks auntie! Let’s make it $3000?
Me: I will send you $5000. Call me in 3 hours to give you the transfer number.
MM: Please deposit under the custom’s employee name it is XxXx…
THREE HOURS LATER…
MM: Hi! Could you do it?
Me: I just remembered that Quique is not my nephew, it is my grandson. And he is gay and single… and hung up.
Roast Pork with Potato Dumplings
This is one of my all-time favorite comfort foods.
Yield: 8 servings
Ingredients
Dumplings
- 3 to 4 pounds starchy potatoes
- 2 to 3 eggs
- 1/2 to 1 cup all-purpose flour
- Sea and or kosher salt, to taste
- 1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
- 1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley
Pork Roast
- 1 pork roast
- Oil (for browning)
- Salt and pepper, to taste
- Paprika, to taste
- 1/2 to 1 pound coarsely chopped onions
Instructions
Dumplings
- In a large pot, boil potatoes in salted water with the skins on. Peel and put them through a ricer (if you don’t have a ricer, use the back of a spoon to smash potatoes through a sieve). Let cool completely.
- Refrigerate.
- The next day, about 30 minutes before the roast is finished, set a large pot of salted water to boil.
- To the cooled, riced potatoes add eggs and 8 to 14 tablespoons of flour, depending on how starchy the potatoes are). Also add salt, nutmeg and parsley. Using your hands, form potatoes into balls between the size of golf and tennis balls.
- Add the potato balls to the boiling water but do not let the water continue to boil. When they float to the top in 15 to 20 minutes, they are done.
Pork Roast
- In a large, heavy pot, heat oil. Sprinkle the roast with salt, pepper and paprika, and brown quickly in oil. Add onions and brown them, too. Turn heat down to medium low. Add a little water. A carrot and a couple of fresh tomatoes can also be added if desired. Cover and cook for 2 hours, turning occasionally.
- To make gravy (optional), remove the roast and add a little water to the pan to de-glaze it. Add a little flour or cornstarch to thicken the drippings.
- Serve dumplings and pork roast with red cabbage or sauerkraut.
What was something that a teacher told you in school that you knew was obviously wrong?
- I was taught to read the newspaper when I was in elementary school by my parents and an excellent 4th grade teacher. When I was in 8th grade I read an article that said drug addict pregnant women gave birth to addicted babies. When I told my teacher in health class about the article she didn’t believe me. She said women who ate bananas did not have babies addicted to bananas. I pointed out that heroin was addictive and bananas were not. She told me to shut up and sit down.
- In high school I read a newspaper article that said the military tested LSD on unsuspecting soldiers and several had killed themselves accidentally while in a drugged state. One jumped out a highrise window because he thought he could fly. My gym teacher told me I must be mistaken because our military would never do such a thing. I asked why it was in the newspaper if it wasn’t true. She said she didn’t believe I read the newspaper.
- Freshman year in college in my American History class my professor attempted to tell me that the scientific belief during slavery was that Black people were not really human. That they were like monkeys or pet dogs. I told him that they may have said it but they knew it was a lie. Because given how white men raped black female slaves they must have seriously been into bestiality. Livestock cannot farm or clean or build or cook or rear and feed their babies. They knew we were just as human as them they used that lie to justify slavery. Then I walked out the class.
How did you foil or dodge someone else’s attempt to cheat or deceive you?
Originally Answered: Have you ever foiled/dodged someone else's attempt to cheat or deceive you?
Oh Yes!
Late afternoon, on my way back to my dorm, Pink Floyd in my ears when I saw that lady coming towards me and smiling.
She was absolutely gorgeous, well dressed, and waving towards me.
Obviously I turned around to confirm that it wasn’t me(because well, why would it be me? I don’t know her) as she approached and said hi!
Baffled, I removed my headphones and replied back.
Lady: “Hi. How are you?”
Me: “Good thanks, and yourself?”
Lady: “I’m in some trouble and I’m really looking for some help. I need to meet my brother at *I forgot where* really soon and I don’t have enough money for fuel. Would you mind lending me 10 Rand(South African currency)”.
Me: “Sure thing”, while I handed out 10 bucks.
Lady: “Thank you so much, you really saved my day”.
Me: “Pleasure”.
Now, I’m the type of person who usually helps others when I can. That day I had some bucks, so I did.
What happens next?
Couple of months later, I was on campus chatting with my buddy and this absolutely gorgeous lady approaches us.
Lady: “Sorry to disturb you guys, I see you’re having a great chat. I’m missing out on some fuel cash and I need to go see my brother who is working. Do you have any spare 10 Rands?”
Me and friend: “Apologies, we don’t have cash on us”.
Lady, looked at us weird, turned around and make some comment. Me and my friend didn’t bother.
However, something struck me then. I knew that lady. Hell yes I did! However, it was too late to foil her plan.
Epilogue
Months later, I bumped into her again.
I decided to be an asshole that day and as soon as she started speaking I wore my evil grin.
Lady: “Sorry sir, I nee…”
Me: “Ahh, you gonna meet your brother again. You know, it’s the third time. I would have literally given you a hundred if you had changed your story.Try to be more creative next time, gorgeous!”, while I walked past her laughing.
Of course, I got the “Fuck you!” reply but I was too content to care.
Why is China the largest factory robotic installer in the world, with over 50% of all installations when they have so many unemployed people?
Entirely different
These Robots are doing jobs that NOBODY IS REALLY INTERESTED IN DOING
Like sewing buttons onto shirts or cutting lines of cloth
How many workers today do you think line up for 55 Yuan per day to sew 560 buttons onto 80 shirts at 1 Yuan for 10 buttons?
How many workers want to cut line’s of cloth and earn 70 Yuan a day for 140 metres a day of cloth?
How many workers want to get paid 60 Yuan a day for manually applying coloring lines on steel bars?
Almost NONE
So China needs Robots to do the job and to do it far more economically
These Jobs are now done by what is called 5G Factories
Fully automated factories working with 100–120 workers doing jobs with automated machinery that formerly close to 300–500 workers were needed
That’s because workers aren’t keen on working for 1500–1800 Yuan a month anymore
They want a minimum of 3000 -3200 Yuan a month
The Unemployed people are primarily College Graduates
They want advented jobs meaning Jobs that suit their qualification
In 2015 – the Offering Starting pay was 5,750 Yuan a month for a Non Trainee STEM graduate
In 2024 – It’s 9,150 Yuan a month
If you see the Vocational Training, the unemployment rate among fresh graduates is a mere 6.57%
Against nearly 18.5% for University Graduates