When I was in high school I had a part time job in a local chain supermarket store. Did the usual, stocking shelves, helping in the butcher shop, cleaning floors, and bag boy. The store began running a promotional, for every $100 in receipts you could get a free dish in a set of “fine” china. Kind of silly really, the reality was that most people were never going to accumulate enough receipts for a place setting, let alone an entire set. But in my tenure as bag boy I noticed several things, 1. People often just put the receipt in the trash can on the way out. 2. They often told the cashier they did not want the receipt, and she put it in the trash can under the register 3. If I was helping people, especially the older ladies, take the groceries to their car and asked them for their receipts, explaining I was trying to get me ma a set of dishes, they willingly gave them to me. So I became the most willing volunteer to bag groceries, the most diligent emptier of trash cans, and the most solicitous helper to people who needed assistance getting groceries to their car. A week before the promotion ended I presented thousands of dollars in receipts to me ma and explained what she had to do, omitting to the store, of course, that she had any relatives employed there. That is how we got the “fine”china still used by me ma to this day. Complete with soup tureen and gravy boat. And the highly sought after “Giant Serving Platter”.

This is a profoundly bad idea.

Let’s say that your little plan works just about as well as you could hope for. You become a guard, and you’re assigned to your boyfriend’s unit…

Have you noticed how dirty the floor is in the CO’s break room? Maybe you should get your boyfriend to mop it. You better supervise him to make sure he does a good job…

Ah… alone at last. Finally, after all this time you can have some hurried sex. Sounds pretty fun right?

It better be, because in most places a guard having sex with an inmate is considered rape (you would be raping him). You can argue until you’re nine shades of blue that it was consensual, but during your training program you signed a document stating that you understood that sex with inmates was rape.

Maybe you think nobody will notice?

Your fellow lives in a big room with at least a hundred other men who have NOTHING to do. Nothing. They WILL notice. I was once told how many minutes I’d just spent in the bathroom…

Did I mention these guys have nothing to do?

Maybe you think they won’t care?

Come on now… you know how most guys are when it comes to sex. Do you really think they’ll just give your boyfriend appreciative nods and attaboys?

Yeah. No. They’ll want the same treatment, or maybe they’ll just want you to smuggle in some pot—“just a little.” If you refuse, they’ll have enough documentation to bring a storm your way.

Maybe you think that smuggling a handful of marijuana to needy inmates is no big deal? OK… now you’re up to two felonies already, and you’ve got to keep the pot coming…

“Know what would really be fly? If we had some heroin up in dis bitch.”

This is a hole that digs itself. All you need to do is get a job in that prison, and you’re never going to get out without becoming an inmate yourself.

Evening college class, met 2X a week. 1st class- homework- find a magazine article about a govt. action, write one page about it. Did not have any magazine subscriptions, so stopped by library, found story about Sen. McCarthy. Next night, teacher chewed me out for picking that article. What could I POSSIBLY know about Sen. McCarthy? I was too young. And kept on for 5 minutes in a vicious tone.

Stood up, said “Know what? You’re right. I am young- may not know a lot- but I know something you don’t.” “Really? What’s THAT?”

“First, I don’t need this class this semester. Second- you are adjunct (part time) faculty. For your class to continue, you need 10 students enrolled. I count 9 others here. I’m dropping your class. The other students will be assigned to other teachers. You are a jerk- and you are also unemployed. Have a good day.”

Walked out, stopped at office, dropped class. Took it next semester- different teacher.

Absolutely

Chinas Defence Budget stands at 1.68 Trillion RMB for the year 2024

That’s $ 234 Billion

However you need to understand that $ 234 Billion in China is different from $ 234 Billion in USA

In the US , the average mark up from production to final sale to the Army or Pentagon is between 113% to 355%

That means a missile that costs $ 100,000 to produce sells for $ 213,000 to the Pentagon

In China, the average mark up from production to final sale to the PLA is a mere 26% -37% as everything is State Owned or a Joint Venture with State Ownership of around 35% – 45%

This means a missile that costs $ 100,000 to produce is sold for $ 126,000 to the PLA

Except that it costs $ 40,000 to produce a missile in China and so $ 50,400 to sell a single Missile to the PLA

So you can have FOUR MISSILES with the same range and the same launch capacity delivered to the PLA for ONE MISSILE delivered to the Pentagon

This means the $ 234 Billion in China has a far higher buying power of equipment in China than $ 234 Billion has for the Pentagon

So effectively Chinas Defence Budget is equivalent to at least 2.5 times and probably 3.5 times the Pentagon budget to procure it’s equipment

The PLA has estimated 492 Billion RMB for Weapons Procurement for 2024

That’s $ 70 Billion

However that’s the equivalent of $ 175 Billion to $ 245 Billion of the Pentagon

The Pentagon has estimated $ 290 Billion for weapon procurement in 2024

So you can see that China with its main scope being the South China Sea, Sea of Japan and Himalayas and Indian Ocean spends almost 84% of what US with its main scope being all over the world spends

So initially you see $ 70 Billion and $ 290 Billion and say “Oh. China is only spending a fourth of what US is spending”

Yet a closer look suggests China is spending almost $ 175–245 Billion versus $ 290 Billion that the US is spending

Dividing evenly between the battle zones – China has four – South China Sea, Himalayas, Indian Ocean and Sea of Japan

US has nine – Pacific, Middle East, South China Sea, Sea of Japan, Atlantic, Europe, South America, Horn of Africa and Oceania

So China spends $ 175–245 Billion for 4 Battle Zones while US spends $ 290 Billion for 9 Battle Zones (290/9 = $ 32 Billion each)

You do the math

It means China likely could outspend US 5:1 in the South China Sea

Same for Russia

Everyone looked at $ 81 Billion at laughed

Yet that $ 81 Billion includes $ 50.7 Billion of Equipment and Weapons Procurement which is the equivalent of $ 90 Billion for the Pentagon

Assuming only three Battle Zones – Europe, Black Sea and Arctic – that’s $ 30 Billion per Battle Zone which is very close to the $ 32 Billion that US spends on weapons and equipment for each zone

So US and Russia are actually neck to neck in defence expenditure on Weapons and Equipment as far as Europe is concerned

So Chinas budget of $ 234 Billion is closer to $ 650 Billion in Pentagon terms

That’s enormous

This occurred years ago and I will never forget it. It was at a time period, when located in the Silicon Valley in California, you would have to be interviewed by 423 employees to discern if you qualified for a job. What was more comical is you would be interviewed by people that in NO way were connected with the department you were attempting to gain employment in. Imagine you are interviewing for a computer game company as an artist and you are interviewed by the warehouse shipping lead? No logic whatsoever.

I was attempting to get a job as a network administrator for a very large and well-known entity. I had passed four interviews and was lucky enough to move on to the next.

My next interviewer happens to be a woman that I am informed works as an admin and I have no idea why she is interviewing me.

She sits down and introduces herself and appears pleasant. The first question she asks is “If the #2 pencil is the most popular, why’s it still #2?”. I am taken aback. I reply “Because a number one pencil writes darker than a number two?” She just looks at me.

She asks, “Why does it REALLY hurt to hit your funny bone?” I answered, “Because there is no bone covering or protecting the nerves at that location, so you are really making direct contact with nerves.” I am thinking, what is this?

She then asks, “Why is the third hand on the watch called the second hand?”. I answered, “The hands could have been named anything they wanted.” I said, “If the third hand measures seconds, why can it not be the third on the watch if it was designed to do so?”

At this point I had had enough. I asked her what is with all the ridiculous questions that have absolutely nothing to do with what I am interviewing for?

The door opens at that moment and another woman comes in and asks the person interviewing me to leave. The person who had been asking me questions says to the other, “I like him, he is pretty sharp!” and she leaves the room.

I am now informed by the person who is sitting down that she is the interviewer I was supposed to have been speaking to. I asked whom the person was who was just asking me a series of strange questions. She said, “That was my secretary, Betty. I told her to come in here and see if you needed anything such as water since I was going to be a few minutes late.”

Well, what China wants to buy from the US is banned from export to China, such as chips and chipmaking equipment, on grounds of national security.

What China wants to sell to the US such as EVs and Huawei equipment is either banned or impeded by the Feds, on grounds of national security.

Chinese companies that make money stateside such as Tiktok, Shein and Temu are being targeted for outright bans or increasingly unfavorable legislation and requirements.

Put the enemy hat on China and the rulebook gets thrown out the window—the end justifies the means.

China will raise the tariff wall on American goods if the US does likewise, but the scope won’t be pushed to the extreme. China will simply develop options and stop buying American. For example, there is enough soybean around these days to skip American soy completely. In a few more years, it will be the same story for wheat, corn and other grains, and Chinese demand for American farm produce can experience a step change.

If there is no trust, there can be no longterm business relationship.

Smothered Cheesy Pork Chops

Ingredients

• 4 or 5 boneless pork chops
• Salt and pepper
• 1/2 onion, thinly sliced
• 1/2 cup mayonnaise
• 1 cup Cheddar cheese, shredded

Instructions

1. Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
2. Place pork chops in a baking pan. Season with salt and pepper on both sides.
3. Sprinkle the onion on top of the pork. Spread mayonnaise on each pork chop. Top with shredded cheese.
4. Bake for 25 minutes, or until the cheese is melted and browned. Baking time may be longer, depending upon thickness of pork chops.

As a Prison Medic I had quite a bit of contact with the older Inmates, many doing “Life Without”….

Most of them had cut most ties with “The World” and had developed a life inside the wire, some of them, remarkably productive.

Three of these men come to mind….

One was a leatherworker, who made and repaired saddles for the mounted patrols, taught “horse tack” and leatherwork classes to the other inmates and had an “outreach” program building adaptive saddles and tack for Equestrian Therapy programs around the state at no cost.

Another had been a lawyer on the outside and spent much time with with the other inmates advising them on their legal matters of Family law, property law, tax law…outside their “Cases”… and did it for free… he had his own funds for “Commissary”

And finally there was one of our Orderlies for the Medical Department. He acted as a formal Mentor to new inmates as they adjusted to prison life and was frequently asked to mediate disputes between inmates…

All of those men were killers…. none of those men were ever supposed to take a breath of “Free” air again, and all of them had made a life on the inside…

I use it every day.

Why? It’s a fast loading program, that’s easy to use. It reliably strips all formatting from a block of text. I don’t have to tell it each time that I want it to ignore hyperlinks, or HTML tags, and just treat them like the raw ASCII they truly are.

Readme.txt files are still found here and there. Notepad is the perfect program to view them.

When we purchased massive demographic data files from various vendors, they always came to us in some text format, CSV, pipe or tab delimited, fixed width… to write the scripts to import these encyclopedias, I would first need to inspect the header files with a program that wouldn’t alter or format the data in any way. Thank you Notepad.

Notepad is an electronic hand axe. It will continue to be useful for a very long time. There are more powerful text editors, some with very handy features for programmers, but Notepad is always there, on every machine, waiting for an opportunity to show how useful it can be.

Does nobody remember this? It was a film series Police Academy in the 80s and into the 1990s… I think.

Anybody who watched it should recognise this theme.

This happened to me.

About 28 years ago I went to deposit my paycheck. It was about $500. I had $80 or so in the bank, I was sure, but just to validate, I asked for an account balance.

The teller smiled at me. “Sure,” she said. “After the wire transfer you received yesterday, and your deposit today, your balance is now $1,100,584.”

“Ummmm, what did you say?” The teller repeated the amount.

“Yesterday you received a wire transfer for $1.1 million dollars. Lucky you.” She smiled again.

I took a deep breath. “Look,” I said, “That can’t be my money. Can you please double check?” She nodded and walked over to the branch manager’s office. She returned about ten minutes later.

“Oh there was no error. The amount was wired from X bank to your account, and all the info is correct on the transfer form.”

“So let me ask you something. If I asked you to withdraw $500,000 in cash right now, you would actually give it to me?”

“Well no…” I nodded, knowing that something wasn’t kosher. “…it would take about 3 hours. We don’t keep that much cash on hand. What denominations would you like?”

I stood there like an idiot. “I would like to take out $100 please.”

I went home slightly dazed. The next morning, after a night spent wondering what I would do with the money, I received a call from the bank. It was the branch manager.

“Yes, Mr. Kaufmann, sorry to bother you. I need to inform you that there was an error in a bank wire transfer to your account. You had 1.1 million dollars deposited into your account. I hope you don’t mind, but we will return the funds to the sending bank.”

“No problem,” I said, “I knew it was a mistake.”

The money was removed that day.

That evening, I could not help but ask myself what if I had said, “no.”

Probably exactly the same thing. But it’s fun to think about.

June of 2014 I was pulled over for having a headlight out. That much is true.

I left that early morning from the State Highway Patrol station with a ticket for DUI. I was sober. The officer initially told me he thought I crossed the yellow line when he was following me. I did do that, as I was mistaken about the location of the driveway I was trying to get into. So, okay. Then he told me I smelled of alcohol. No, I didn’t. I had had two beers that calendar day, and the last was over 4 hours prior to this. Since then I had been sitting around a campfire. I reeked of smoke. Wood smoke. When I passed the breath test, I was told that they expected that, what with me smelling of weed. No. No I didn’t. But that’s going to be impossible to prove in a courtroom in a few months, right?

The police report they typed up mentioned that I had confessed in the back of the car to being on numerous illicit substances. That. Never. Happened. And I was NOT on any illicit substances.

Fortunately, the prosecutor tossed the whole case when there was no evidence of anything on my tox screen, no evidence of anything in my breath test, hair, urine, blood. NOTHING. Turns out these two assholes had been sending up some dubious cases for a while, but this one was the most egregious.

Ohio Patrol Troopers Northup and Norris, where ever you are, I hope you get a flat tire, your wife cheats on you with your partner, your dog dies, and you develop unfixable halitosis. You are the worst kind of human. You lied, repeatedly, and for what?

Racism is the very thing prisons are built out of. It’s the bricks, pipes, and bars of prison. Racism will surround and envelop you at all times while you are behind bars.

That said, you’re not supposed to acknowledge it. You had better not make any comments that are openly racist unless you’re ready to fight. So, while racism is the very air you breathe, you’d better not gulp it in and speak with it.

Inmates divide themselves up along racial lines. This really shouldn’t come as a surprise — we divide ourselves up by race everywhere in society. In prison it’s just more… rigid.

The most obvious example will be the chow hall. Where I spent most of my time, there was a white side, and a black side. The white side had six or seven tables set aside for Hispanics and “other.” The black side had only two tables that had been claimed by social misfits that nobody wanted to have at their table.

If a white guy sat in the black area heads would turn. The same was true for the reverse situation. If anything, the blacks seemed more disapproving of a black guy sitting with the whites. The general assumption was that if someone was sitting outside of their race then there was a (sexual) relationship. The person out of “place” was someone’s “bitch.”

The units were also divided by race. We had several TV rooms. One was for whites (read “rednecks”). One was for blacks and one was for anyone who spoke Spanish. A final room was supposed to be for sports, but wound up being a second room for the blacks.

Even the cells were arranged by race. The cells furthest from the doors were all occupied by black guys. This was their choice — being largest in number, they got to choose. The advantage of being farthest from the door is that you have the most warning before the guards get to you.

Is there racism in prison? I doubt this is even a serious question. Prison *is* racism.

Back in the mid to late 90s I lived in a quite, older neighborhood in Euless Texas. I have a green thumb and made my yard one of the nicest ones on the street. There were some rambunctious boys that lived a few houses down. They started riding their bikes in my yard tearing things up. Next thing I know their friends are doing it too. I knew their parents and knew they were decent people. One day I came around the corner and the oldest son, about 14 or so and their ringleader, was right there in my driveway. I could tell he was about to head into my yard. I called out to him in a friendly tone “Hey! You wanna earn some extra cash?”

That got his attention. He said “Sure” as he got off his bike to speak with me. I told him I was having to work extra hours at work (true) and needed help keeping my yard up. I told him if her would mow the front yard weekly, spread fertilizer and pull any weeds he sees I’d give him 40 bucks every week. He was excited and agreed. Shortly my yard was back to being one of the nicest ones on the street. He was now in charge and took great pride in his work and the yard. He would fuss at his friends and brothers and run them off if they came around with their bikes. He also took great care of my lawn mower and any other tools he used and put them back in my shed when finished. I hated to see him go off to college a few years later!

“As the famous Turkish proverb says, when a clown goes to live in a palace, he does not become a king. But the palace becomes a circus.

One could, of course, perceive everything that is happening in Ukraine as a circus if the consequences were not so tragic and catastrophic for this state.

But circus acts are still very popular there.

We all know about air sirens sounding in Kyiv and other cities during visits of high-ranking foreign delegations in the absence of any shelling.

This has already become a kind of part of the circus program for the stay of foreign leaders in Ukraine.

What is noteworthy is that in Odessa, whose military facilities were actually attacked during the visit of a high-ranking Greek delegation to this city, the siren did not sound: such an act was not included in the circus program.

I would like to urge all those who have been whipping up passions today and will continue to whip up passions because of this episode to ask themselves a simple question.

Do you really think that if we really wanted to hit Zelensky’s motorcade, we wouldn’t be able to do it?

And try to answer it, just honestly.

Especially considering the fact that you know very well that this strike destroyed a workshop for the production of naval drones, or rather, their assembly from components supplied by the UK.

For us, this goal is much more important than Zelensky rushing around the frontline zone, taking selfies in cities before they are liberated by the Russian army.

And if any of you in your soul hopes to get rid of the leader of the Kyiv regime in this way, then I can disappoint you: this is not part of our plans.

The reincarnation of Mr. Goloborodko from the series ‘Servant of the People’ was elected to the presidency by Ukrainians, believing his election promises to establish peace in Donbass and protect the Russian language and Russian-speaking citizens of Ukraine.

He deceived his voters, so now let the Ukrainians and his Western puppet masters deal with him. We have more important tasks – fulfilling the goals of our special military operation.

And since you don’t want to talk about how to implement them through peaceful means, we are forced to use military means for this.

With all the ensuing consequences for Ukraine and the Western sponsors of the Kyiv regime, which have already begun to emerge very clearly.”

Excerpt from the speech by Dmitry Polyanskiy, First Deputy Permanent Representative of Russia to the UN, at the UN Security Council meeting on Ukraine, New York City, March 8, 2024.

Why didn’t China acquire the Mig29 and Mig31? Because China wanted the Su-27.

And we got it. China realised that the heavy fighter design had far more potential than the much smaller 29.

Su 27 and Mig29 in between. The size difference is huge.

Russia in dire financial straits in the 1990s reluctantly agreed to sell them to us.

There’s a far more entertaining story which nobody knows is true or not.

Russian negotiators landed in Beijing to negotiate sale of Mig29s to China and said nyet Over and over again when Chinese asked for the SU27. Chinese negotiators pressed and pressed Russians over and over again but kept getting told no and hit an impasse. Until it was settled by a night on the town over booze.

Allegedly Chinese negotiators out drunk the Russians and got them to agree to our demands.

Those northern Chinese, they can REALLY drink. I mean REALLY drink. I nearly died when I dated a girl from Northern China, to her it was like water…Chinese Baiju starts at 56% Russian Samogan starts at 40%.

In college, I was invited to a private concert being filmed in a TV studio in Chicago. My good friend was the executive assistant to the president of the station so I had met the president several times before and he told me to bring a few friends along for this event and to find him when we got there.

The evening of the concert, there was a huge line of people waiting to get into the studio. These were folks not previously invited but vying for a few remaining spots to fill empty seats.

Having been invited personally by the studio president, we walked around the crowd and into the building to find him. Near the front of the line, we saw a guy dressed in studio gear, all black, headphones, clipboard, the whole deal holding back the crowd. I waved and explained “hello I’m Chet and was told to find John McDonald (not his real name) to be part of tonight’s concert event. I was nothing but polite and courteous.

This guy’s response? “I’m sorry…do you think you are special or something? See all these people? They waited in line and you can too. Go back to the end and wait just like everyone else.”

I was floored as was my roommate and our dates looked dumbfounded. I sort of chuckled but figured ok, something must have gotten lost in translation.

Not two seconds later, the studio prez John McDonald comes around the corner, sees us all there and exclaims “Chet! You made it!” and we all start shaking hands and making introductions to the ladies we brought along.

He then turned to the studio guy and said “take these four into the show and put them in the front row.”

As we followed the rude dude into the studio, I couldn’t resist saying “I guess we ARE special!”

Smirk obliterated.

My son went on line to see if he could get hired for a programming job somewhere. He had no real experience working for anyone else in programming. He had worked for a small town IT guy, and did a lot of coding for an online game he played. His first job offer was as a contractor for a 6 month gig at a company in Sacramento, CA. He loaded up his car, abandoned his apartment in Springfield IL, and headed out.

When he went to work the first day, they showed him around a bit, then gave him his first assignment. He worked hard on it for the first two days, and handed in the finished project on the third day. The boss looked at him in an odd manner. He had someone run the program to make sure it actually did what it was supposed to do. He came back and told Jason that it was a job well done. Jason asked for his next assignment. The boss, a bit bemused, said, well, I’ll see if I can find something for you, but that assignment was your 6 month gig. They did keep him on for the 6 months, and he did several other projects for them. He didn’t get fired, but the other programmers weren’t at all happy with him, so he left at the end of the contract.

He has had several coding jobs since, and moved up into management, but finally decided that he really liked coding better than he liked managing coders, so his current job is back to coding, but at a pretty high level, with commensurate pay.

About 15 years ago, I was working as a server at a restaurant, and as head server/trainer and an expeditor, I knew the menu inside and out, including pretty much all the ingredients.

We took allergies VERY seriously at our restaurant, and so when a guest asked,”Is there dairy in the crab cake? Because I’m allergic to dairy,” I was REQUIRED to ask the chef, verbatim, even though I KNEW the answer was no, because the chef is the highest authority on the food. So I go back to the kitchen, and I ask the chef, “Is there dairy in the crab cake? I have a guest who is allergic.”

He responds, “Yeah, there’s dairy in the crab cake.”

And I respond, “Uh, you’re wrong–I’ve prepped crab cakes myself. There’s no dairy in the crab cakes.”

Him: “Prove it.”

I go to the prep kitchen and pull the master recipe book from the shelf, bring it back to him, and read off the list of ingredients. “There’s no dairy on this list.”

Him: “There’s mayonnaise in the crab cake.”

Me: “That’s not dairy. Mayonnaise is eggs and oil, and a stabilizing agent.”

Him: “And where do you find eggs in the grocery store?”

Me: “In the dairy section.”

Him: “So eggs are dairy.”

Me: “No, they’re not. Eggs come from chickens. Dairy products are milk products, which have to come from a cow, or from the udder of another mammal. Chicken are birds, not mammals. Birds don’t have udders.”

Him: “Eggs come from the dairy section. They are therefore dairy.”

Me: *Facepalm* “Fine. I will tell the customer that the crab cakes have mayonnaise.”

(Back at the table.)

Me: “Ma’am, the chef told me to tell you that the crab cakes have mayonnaise.”

Guest: “But mayonnaise isn’t dairy, it’s made from eggs.”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, you’re quite right, but the chef and I had a philosophical disagreement on that point, and he insists mayonnaise is dairy. So you may want to stay away from the crab cakes, considering the chef doesn’t actually know what’s in them.”

My mother married my stepfather when I was a teenager. We had a somewhat difficult relationship although it was readily apparent that he adored my mother and treated her very well. I tried to get along with him as best I could because I knew that I would eventually be moving out and my mother would need a partner. After a decade or so into their marriage his health declined. He had developed leukemia-induced anemia that was complicated by Crohn’s disease. After several years of painful existence and numerous hospital stays and blood transfusions he found himself in the ICU. His red blood cell count was critically low and he needed another transfusion or he would die within a few days. He decided he had had enough. He refused treatment so that he could pass away and be relieved of his pain. He went in and out of consciousness over those last two days. A priest had come to read him his last rites. His oxygen mask was at full capacity.

At one point I stood alone beside his bed and he mustered up enough strength to speak. He told me “take care of your body and read a lot of books on different subjects”. I acknowledged him. He added, “and take care of your mother”. He then slipped back into unconsciousness and the nurse asked that I leave the room and give him a break. I never heard him speak again. Those last words only reaffirmed to me what a great husband my mother had found, for in his last moments he was still concerned about her welfare.

That night my mother and I were in the waiting room at two in the morning when the nurse came to tell us that it was his time. We went into his ICU room, stood by his bedside, and watched on the monitor as his heart rate steadily dropped off to zero and his chest eased down to a stop. My mother looked down at him and said “what an amazing man, thank you for 17 wonderful years of marriage”. RIP Stan