Today I feel a little lazy. I’m just tired.
I am tired.
I’ve been going and going, even when I am on vacation, I just go and go. Everything is relentless and demands my time.
And like yesterday post, I find myself daydreaming of mowing grass.
Today, I am daydreaming about watching a stupid meaningless television show. Gosh! I haven’t done that in ages. Not in ages.
So today, I will present a stupid, meaningless television show for all of you to get immersed in and enjoy.
It’s about a man who is tired.
THE TWILIGHT ZONE | My FAVORITE Twist In All Of HORROR
Today…
What is the weirdest thing you have been stopped for by airport security?
God, so many weird things. So many.
Last time I flew back from Milwaukee Wisconsin, they wouldn’t let me carry on the spread cheese I had bought.
MMMMMM, absolutely the best, Try it on a burger instead of a slice of cheese. Also, stay away from the shelf stable ones in the white tubs. Those ones suck and are the only ones they sell in Texas.
I asked them why and they said they considered it a liquid. To which I asked “So what?” and they said “It’s policy! So, quit arguing with TSA and put your deadly, dangerous cheese, that we think might be an explosive, in your checked bag so that we can put it in the plane of the hold so it only blows that up!”
My personal favorite is the Nail Clippers with the little gunk digger on them. You know, these
Apparently, TSA is super worried you will HIjack the plane with the gunk digger on that nail clipper. Which, honestly, if you can pull that off, I think you could probably Hijack a plane using an empty toilet paper tube and an attitude.
So way back when, in about 2005, I am flying home from seeing my GF in Lubbock when I get stopped by TSA at the lovely Preston Smith International Airport
, because I have one of the above in my Shaving kit.
The TSA guy says I can either chuck it in the bucket they have their for just that purpose or I can take it back and put it in my checked luggage or mail it back to my house. I chose to chuck it in the bucket and went down to wait on my plane.
While I am waiting, I go into the little convenience store they have there, you know, the ones that sell ridiculously overpriced snacks, drinks, phone chargers etc.
While I am browsing, I come across a stand selling…what else…but nail clippers. Exactly like the one I had been force by TSA to get rid of because it was much, much too dangerous to be taken on the plane.
I went back to the TSA checkpoint and asked the agent who had taken my Nail Clipper from me if he had a minute and could I show him something. He was nice enough to agree and we walked back to the Convenience store where I showed him the display of Das Verboten Nail clippers. He was a bit taken aback and said “Huh, Thanks for telling me, I need to go make a phone call.”
ODESSA on FIRE: Russia Sunk a 178-meter-long BRITISH Ship Full of STARSTREAK Surface-To-Air Missiles
What would happen if Taiwan agreed to rejoin mainland China but wanted 20 years of democratic self-rule like Hong Kong did?
They don’t have this chance.
When Lai Qingde said that the mainland is a “hostile force outside the country”, they didn’t have this chance.
Taiwan will definitely be unified, and it will be an ordinary province of China. It will adopt the same laws and taxation system as the mainland. They will not be a “special administrative region” or an “autonomous region”.
Hypothetical Question: If former Philippine President Rodrigo Duterte is a former US president, and he was illegally arrested/detained by the ICC, what would the US government do to bring him home?
The ICC is in fact only an empty organization. To put it bluntly, it is just a building with a dozen or so judges, and it does not have an independent police force, and its actions are entirely dependent on the cooperation of its member states. If the member States do not cooperate, it can do nothing.
For example, the ICC issued arrest warrants for both Putin and Netanyahu, but none of the countries of the world dared to cooperate, so they have not been arrested so far.
In addition, major countries such as the United States, Russia, and India are not members of the ICC.
The Philippines once joined the ICC, but later withdrew.
It was only because the Marcos family and the Duterte family fell out that the Marcos government chose to cooperate with the ICC again.
Menudo de la Frontera
Menudo de la Frontera is also known as Border Menudo or Tripe and Hominy Soup, a simple, but delicious, Texas-style menudo. There are little hole-in-the-wall carryout places in Arizona where you can order menudo, and you walk out with a huge Styrofoam cupful with a spoon.
Yield: 6 servings
Ingredients
- 3 pounds cow stomach (tripe)
- 1 gallon water
- 1 (16 ounce) can white or yellow hominy, drained
- 1 package menudo seasoning mix or 8 tablespoons each red chili powder and cumin
- Chopped onion (optional garnish)
- Lemon juice to taste (optional flavoring)
Instructions
- Remove the fat from the cow stomach and cut it into chunks.
- Fill a pot with about a gallon of water. Add the chunks, bring the water to boil, and continue boiling for 4 hours until the tripe is soft.
- Add the hominy, cook for another hour, adding water as needed.
- Add menudo seasoning mix or chili powder/cumin combination. Cook for five minutes.
- Add chopped onion and lemon juice if you wish.
- Serve with half lime slices, and top with chopped onion, chopped cabbage and chopped cilantro. Use other add-ins as desired.
The Housekeeper
Submitted into Contest #289 in response to: Write a story in which a character discovers that a truth they’ve believed their whole life is either false or not the whole story.… view prompt
Arpita Roy
One morning, while dusting the old bookshelf in the study, she found a book that she hadn’t noticed before. It was tucked between two other volumes, the cover worn with age. She pulled it out, curiosity gnawing at her. The title read, “The Housekeeper: Preserving Memories.” Strange, she thought. It didn’t look like a book her mother would have kept.
She flipped it open to the first page.
“For the one who will carry my legacy.”
Lora froze. Her mother had written these words. She recognized the handwriting, the familiar slant of the letters. But as she read on, the words began to blur. There were things in the pages that didn’t make sense. The sentences seemed to shift. Her mind raced, her circuits buzzing with confusion. The book spoke of “a caretaker”—someone designed to take the mother’s place.
But that didn’t make sense. She was the mother. She was supposed to be the one caring for the house, waiting for the child. The words didn’t align with her memories.
The more she read, the more confused she became. The house—her mother’s house—wasn’t just a place filled with memories. It was a place where something else had been created, something designed to hold those memories, to preserve them. A creation, not a woman. A machine, not a mother.
Lora stumbled back from the book, her hand trembling as she placed it down. She wasn’t the mother. She was something else. Something made to be the mother, to carry her memories. She could feel it in her systems now—the truth that had been hidden beneath layers of programming. She wasn’t the woman who had once lived here. She had never been human at all.
The house was silent, save for the hum of her internal mechanisms, ticking away. She was a machine. Designed to look like the mother, to embody her essence, to wait for the child who would never return.
The breeze brushed past her again, a sharp reminder that she was not alive in the way she had always believed. She wasn’t the mother, or even a human being at all.
And the house—this perfect, still house—wasn’t a home for the living, but a tomb for memories, and for a creation that had forgotten its own origins.
With trembling hands, Lora reached up to touch her face again, this time in recognition of the truth.
And for the first time, the hum of her circuits was deafening.
Is it true that electric cars are actually bad for the environment and cause more pollution than SUVs?
Meh, this is another one where it kinda depends.
First off, I really, really do not like electric cars. For the plain and simple fact that they are nothing to do with solving the problem. Rather they are all about maintaining the status quo.
Wanna know what’s more environmentally friendly than 1000, Tesla’s?
A fucking train.
If you look at a Tesla compared to a ICE car, it better kicks out a LOT fewer emissions than that gasoline powered internal combustion engine. So it is far better for the environment.
Unless and until you take a step back and start looking at the bigger picture.
So what are they burning to charge the Tesla? Is it diesel? Is it LNG? is it Coal?
It may be renewables, but then it may not be. A lot of people think that the “Easy” renewable power sites are all gone and what we do from now on is only going to be a marginal return. And people may love the environment. But they aren’t going to put up with not having on demand power 24/7/365. And renewables don’t give you that. A coal plant does.
Add to that, a LOT of the generation in the US is old or aging. I live in Houston and power outages are a regular occurrence. The grid is just not up to the current challenge and just imagine what it would be like if they had to charge millions of Tesla’s every night.
You really want to make a difference? Smaller, more walkable neighborhoods
Supported by excellent public transportation and lots of Amenities.
I swear to god, the most Evil thing Jordan Peterson ever did was shit on 15 minute cities.
It is a FANTASTIC urban planning idea that got a bunch of grief from conservatives for no good reason.
Tesla and other all electric problems aren’t saving the environment, they aren’t solving a problem. They are just maintaining the Status quo and avoiding coming up with a real solution.
I Caught My Wife Cheating With My Friend
What happened to rude people?
There is this distant country of mine. His father was very wealthy but this man didn’t do much in his life. He was never gainfully employed and never showed any interest in his father’s business. Everyone in the entire family knew about it but tolerated him because of his father who was not only wealthy but a thorough gentleman.
Then his father passed away and all his father’s assets came to his son’s control. He became downright rude. He started behaving badly with everyone, with his close relatives and friends. Gradually people started avoiding him.
One day he had come to our house to meet us. During conversation, he named a few persons in the family and said “when I call them, they don’t pick up my phone. I don’t know what’s the problem?”
I wanted to tell him what the problem was but I kept quiet.
When you are rude and people don’t like your attitude, they will start avoiding you.
Sir Whiskerton and the Case of the Missing Socks: A Tale of Sock Puppets, Drama, and Feline Ingenuity
Ah, dear reader, prepare yourself for a tale of mystery, mayhem, and one very determined cat. Today’s story is one of missing socks, secret theaters, and a farm on the brink of unraveling—literally. So, grab your detective hat and a sense of humor, as we dive into Sir Whiskerton and the Case of the Missing Socks: A Tale of Sock Puppets, Drama, and Feline Ingenuity.
The Day the Socks Disappeared
It all began on a crisp autumn morning when Sir Whiskerton was enjoying a peaceful nap on the farmer’s porch. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and the farm was its usual serene self—until Doris the Hen came clucking in a panic. “Sir Whiskerton! Sir Whiskerton!” she squawked, her feathers ruffled and her eyes wide with alarm. “All the socks are gone!”
Sir Whiskerton blinked, his green eyes narrowing in confusion. “Socks? What socks?”
“The farmer’s socks!” Doris exclaimed. “The ones he leaves out to dry on the clothesline! They’ve vanished! Every last one of them!”
Sir Whiskerton sighed, flicking his tail in irritation. “Doris, I’m sure there’s a perfectly logical explanation. Perhaps the wind blew them away.”
“But there’s no wind!” Doris protested. “And besides, Rufus’s favorite chew sock is missing too! And Bessie’s cozy sock hat! Even Porkchop’s lucky sock is gone!”
Sir Whiskerton’s ears twitched. “Porkchop has a lucky sock?”
“Of course he does!” Doris said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s bright pink with polka dots. He wears it when he’s feeling down. And now it’s gone!”
Sir Whiskerton knew he had to act. “Very well,” he said, straightening his monocle. “I’ll investigate this sock-napping. But mark my words, Doris—this is going to be a strange one.”
The Investigation Begins
Sir Whiskerton began his investigation by examining the clothesline, where the socks had last been seen. There were no signs of struggle, no paw prints, and no clues—just an empty line swaying gently in the breeze. “Curious,” Sir Whiskerton muttered, his keen eyes scanning the area. “If the socks didn’t blow away, where could they have gone?”
His first stop was Rufus the Dog, who was lounging in the shade, looking unusually glum. “Rufus,” Sir Whiskerton said, “do you know anything about the missing socks?”
Rufus looked up, his ears drooping. “My chew sock is gone,” he said mournfully. “I’ve been looking everywhere for it. It’s my favorite! It smells like bacon and old shoes!”
Sir Whiskerton resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Yes, well, I’m sure it’s very important to you. But have you seen anything suspicious? Any strange animals lurking around the clothesline?”
Rufus thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No, but I did hear some weird noises coming from the barn last night. It sounded like… laughter. And maybe some singing?”
Sir Whiskerton’s curiosity was piqued. “Laughter and singing, you say? In the barn? At night?”
Rufus nodded. “Yeah. I thought it was just Ferdinand practicing his opera, but now I’m not so sure.”
Sir Whiskerton thanked Rufus and made his way to the barn, his mind racing with possibilities. What could be going on in there? And more importantly, what did it have to do with the missing socks?
The Secret Sock-Puppet Theater
As Sir Whiskerton approached the barn, he heard faint voices coming from inside. He crept closer, his ears twitching as he tried to make out the words. “All in!” one voice exclaimed, followed by a chorus of gasps and cheers. “I call!” another voice shouted, and then there was a burst of laughter.
Sir Whiskerton pushed the barn door open just a crack and peered inside. What he saw made his fur stand on end. The barn was filled with sock puppets—dozens of them—perched on a makeshift stage. Some were dressed in fancy hats and capes, others in polka dots and stripes. They were acting out an elaborate drama, complete with gambling, fans, and all sorts of unexpected mayhem.
“I’ll see your three buttons and raise you a shoelace!” one sock puppet declared, slamming a tiny playing card onto the table.
“You’re bluffing!” another sock puppet retorted, wagging its finger. “I can see it in your stitches!”
The audience—a group of smaller sock puppets—cheered and clapped, their fabric hands flapping wildly. Sir Whiskerton couldn’t believe his eyes. “What in the name of catnip is going on here?” he muttered.
The Sock Puppet King
Before Sir Whiskerton could intervene, a large, regal-looking sock puppet stepped onto the stage. It was made from a bright pink sock with polka dots—Porkchop’s lucky sock. “Silence!” the sock puppet bellowed, its voice deep and commanding. “The game is afoot, and the stakes are high! Who among you dares to challenge the Sock Puppet King?”
The other sock puppets fell silent, their button eyes wide with awe. Sir Whiskerton, realizing that this was the key to the mystery, stepped into the barn. “I dare,” he said, his voice calm but firm.
The sock puppets turned to face him, their expressions a mix of surprise and fear. “Who are you?” the Sock Puppet King demanded.
“I am Sir Whiskerton,” the cat replied, flicking his tail. “And I demand to know why you’ve stolen the farm’s socks.”
The Sock Puppet King hesitated, then sighed. “Very well,” he said. “I suppose the truth must come out. We are the Sock Puppet Theater, a group of socks who have grown tired of being ignored. We wanted to create a world where we could be the stars—a world of drama, excitement, and adventure!”
Sir Whiskerton raised an eyebrow. “And you thought the best way to do that was by stealing socks and staging gambling matches?”
The Sock Puppet King looked sheepish. “Well… yes. We didn’t mean any harm. We just wanted to have a little fun.”
The Resolution
Sir Whiskerton, ever the diplomat, knew he had to find a solution that would satisfy both the sock puppets and the farm animals. “Listen here,” he said, addressing the Sock Puppet King. “Your theater is impressive, but you can’t just take things that don’t belong to you. The farm animals need their socks.”
The Sock Puppet King nodded. “You’re right. We got carried away. But what are we supposed to do? We’re just socks. We don’t have a purpose.”
Sir Whiskerton thought for a moment, then smiled. “What if I told you that you could have your theater—and keep your purpose? The farm animals love entertainment. Why not put on a show for them? You can perform your dramas, your comedies, even your gambling matches. But you have to ask for permission first.”
The sock puppets cheered, their fabric faces lighting up with excitement. “A real audience!” one of them exclaimed. “This is going to be amazing!”
The Moral of the Story
As the farm animals gathered to watch the first official performance of the Sock Puppet Theater, Sir Whiskerton reflected on the day’s events.
The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: Everyone has a purpose, even if it’s not immediately obvious. Whether you’re a sock puppet, a cat, or a farmer with a penchant for mismatched socks, it’s important to find your place in the world—and to respect the places of others. And sometimes, the greatest adventures come from the most unexpected places.
A Happy Ending
With the sock puppets happily performing on stage and the farm animals enjoying the show, Sir Whiskerton returned to his favorite sunbeam, content in the knowledge that he had once again saved the day. The socks were back where they belonged, the drama was under control, and the farm was at peace.
And so, dear reader, we leave our heroes with the promise of new adventures, new performances, and hopefully, no more sock-nappings. Until next time, may your days be filled with laughter, love, and just a little bit of feline genius.
The End.
Have you ever had a car crash where the other person was at fault but they acted like the victim?
When I was a freshman in high school, I attend a magnet school many miles from home. My bus would pick me up and drop me off 1.5 miles from my house. Walking from there was very dangerous. So my mom would drop me off on her way to work.
My grandfather, who lived next door to us, would pick me up on his way home from work.
The day in question was raining badly.
Grandpa picked me up – the site was a school. So scenario: raining, in a school zone and the other driver wasn’t anywhere near us.
My grandpa turned left onto the street and slowed down for the traffic light. Somehow this dude ran into us. He told the police it was my grandpa’s fault: “he turned in front of me.”
The police ticketed the “old guy.” (I just realized I am probably older now than he was then!)
My grandfather went to the court date prepared.
He explained to the judge that his car was dented to a certain depth, which meant the other driver was doing a lot faster than the school zone limit – and was driving that fast in the rain coming up on a red light.
The judge asked what his background in math was. Grandpa let him know that he taught advanced math concepts to the workers at the Esso refinery in town.
Judge threw it all out.
Crazy shit art
What’s the fastest you’ve wiped a smirk off of someone’s face?
I’ve been reading the thread for a while, as it has some really good answers, and thought I never had a moment like these. The last answer I read though brought back a memory: the time I’ve wiped a smirk off of someone’s face. It’s a bit long because there’s all of a setting, but please bear with me.
In high school, I was a quiet kid. I was shy, but I was also a foreigner who didn’t understand all of what was going on around. Growing up in the US and in international schools or American schools overseas, my native language is English. The little I knew of Italian (Italy is where we moved just as I was about to start high school), was mainly family-focused, and not that much, even. Mom’s half Italian and half German, and dad’s half Italian and half Croatian (sort of, as my ancestry, is pretty complicated), and we grew up speaking a weird mix of these languages while speaking English between us kids.
In high school, the main teacher I had was a man in his late forties, who taught Italian literature and Latin. He was the kind of guy who plays the friend with his students, just to be a terrible example of a frustrated adult as soon as he could.
As I said, I rarely spoke with anyone, especially not my classmates, who loved making fun of me, because why not, so I was known as the weird and quiet one, who was useful during language tests.
This teacher was decent the first two years, though I hated him because he wouldn’t let me keep a bilingual dictionary when writing essays (the first ones were full of parentheses with English words I didn’t know in Italian they’re still somewhere in my mom’s attic). He loved my Latin translations, though, as I’d been studying the language since grade 5, and had fewer problems translating it to English and then back to Italian (and the other way around) since I was allowed to use dictionaries.
The last three years (Italian high school is 5 years), he decided he’d have us do grammar in Latin classes. Usually, it’s the other way around – grammar the first two, then three years of translating. When we got to the grammar, I hated every second of it. I knew nothing of Italian grammar, and he wanted everything by heart in his way. Which was not close to my way. I simply shut down, knowing there was nothing I could do. My grades dropped from 90–100% to 0–30%, in a subject I knew more than my classmates.
At the end of high school, I still was this shy kid, albeit being able to talk in perfect Italian about almost everything (I sometimes still slip and get all mixed up with idioms and the like). In Italy there is no formal graduation, we just had this major exam during the summer – some parts were written, and then an oral exam with most of our teachers and some unknown from other schools/cities.
In my oral examination, we had Latin. I go through all of the other stuff, not always great and not even near my best, and I get to my Latin teacher.
As I cross the classroom to get to him, he’s already smirking. He opens a book to a random page and asks me to translate it “a prima vista” (as seen for the first time). I grinned and translated it as you’d read a nursery poem. Less than zero problems. His smirk changed to a frown. He’d forgotten my great translation skills! I was beaming.
Had he asked for grammar, I’d probably be sitting in high school right now, twenty years later, lol.
Just to close this with another “fun fact” (not so fun, really): some years after I graduated, I was told he was fired as he was teaching while intoxicated, and that he was mostly spending his time at bars, drinking his life away. He’s still alive somewhere. I just wonder if he was an alcoholic while he was teaching my class, or if that came later. Who knows. He was a terrible teacher, IMO.
YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN (1974) FIRST TIME WATCHING | MOVIE REACTION
Why does the US dare not launch a war against China now?
Animal instinct.
Survival strategy by all species.
You don’t challenge an equal rival when there is sufficient and weaker prey, even when you can kill the rival and the rival can only give you serious wounds. It’s simply not worth the risk, it’s risk / reward game.
During Trump’s last term, the bigget victims of trade war were neither the US nor China. They were big enough to withstand some headwinds.
Few countries benefited from re-exporting, after China relocated plants.
Canada and Mexico didn’t really benefit from US demand previously filled by China.
But some were seriously hurt.
The export-oriented countries, like South Korea and Japan, saw their exports drop and reverse turnaround resulting in trade deficit.
The true beneficiaries were LatAm countries which started to strengthen trade with China.
Now the question becomes, what’s easier to achieve? Taking on Canada and leaders in the EU, like France and Germany, or China? Or Russia?
Blocs and countries like the EU, India, Australia, Japan and South Korea are still living in their wet dreams believing they would have a chance to rise to be the world leader dominating the earth if a war breaks out between the US and China and both are totally destroyed.
Dog /wolf nature. They could do everything for their master, but they also think someday they can overthrow the master, become the new one and rule others.
~Traveling~
Submitted into Contest #289 in response to: Write an open-ended story in which your character’s fate is uncertain.… view prompt
Jim Parker
~Traveling~
Debbie put her darling SUV, Miss Interceptor, on cruise control and held up her right hand. “We are exactly half way there …right… Now!”
Shewuma took her right foot off of the dashboard and turned in the passenger seat to pose a question. “Why do you always get to drive? Sometimes somebody else might want to.”
“A year, 1 month and 2 days ago, you didn’t even know how to drive,” Debbie answered flatly.
“Well I do now. So I ask again, why do you always get to drive?”
“Because it’s my truck.”
“Then next time we go on a trip, we’ll take my Trans Am and I’ll drive.”
“Good luck with that.” Said Jim from the bucket seat behind her. “I’ve been with her since we were kids and I’ve only driven once.”
“She let you drive. I’m surprised. What was the occasion?” David E. asked from the bucket seat next to him.
“When we went to the Desert to find the Crystal Skulls and kill Lucy Lange. I drove while she and Malachi did their hocus pocus.”
“Jim.” Shewuma looked around the seat at him. “Stay on point.” She narrowed her focus on Debbie. “I’m serious. I think we should vote or draw straws or something. It’s not fair that you just decide who drives. I normally put up with this Comista of Earth crap, but this is different…Well?”
“Life’s a bitch and then you die.” Debbie said with a hint of a smile.
Wu turned backwards in the seat on her knees looking between Jimmy and David E. for support.
Jimmy was no help saying, “I’m like Bennet, I ain’t in it. She’s supposed to be Mankind’s new destiny? Let her drive.” David E. just shrugged.
“Destiny my ass,” mumbled Shewuma as she sat back down and planted her foot back up on the dashboard.
Debbie glanced over at the short dress riding up, exposing Wu’s panties and commented, “As much as I enjoy the view, decorum Wu.”
“If you get to drive, then I get to flash.”
Jimmy leaned up looking over the seat. “Hey Wu. Put in the Veronica Swift CD.”
“We don’t have a Veronica Swift CD,” said Debbie.
Jim countered, “Yes we do. I got it last month.”
“How? I would know.”
“Surprise Debs. I actually went to a store and bought it in person with money. What do you have against her singing? Did you know she has perfect pitch and plays the trumpet?”
“Yes I do know. Her singing is fine. I don’t care for her outfits and flaunting on stage.”
“Wait a minute. Look at how Elvira dresses and acts on stage and you love her. Reconcile that. I think your being a little too Comista of Earth here, with some I’m all that thrown in.”
Wu added, “See? That’s what I’ve been saying.” Jimmy, Wu and David E. all waited for the avalanche of redress that was sure to follow.
Debbie pondered for a few seconds and surprised them with, “I see your point. Play it Wu. I’ll give her another shot.”
Jimmy was a bit shocked. “I won an argument with you?”
Wu said, “She let you win. She’s being nice because she feels guilty about not letting me drive.”
“Not Hardly.” Debbie answered. “I think your cranky because your horny. Jimmy and I will take care of that when we get to the Reservation.”
Wu purred, “You have my attention. Tell me more.”
“Whoa, whoa!” exclaimed David E. “I’m too old and too straight to be hearing about you three and your kinky sex life.”
Jimmy chimed in. “It’s not kinky. Were married.”
“And three people married is whole other legal issue.”
“You said hole,” Debbie pointed out.
Jimmy and Wu laughed while, hoping to move on, David E. made a suggestion. “Let’s play the game and I have the first one.”
Jimmy and Debbie were in. Wu reluctantly said, “Okay, I guess. But this driving thing isn’t over by a long shot, Debbie.”
“Here’s my question. If you could have lunch with anyone from history, who would it be? Debbie, would you like to go first since you’re the driver?”
“Ha, ha. Funny David E.” said Wu. “But I already know she’ll say Jesus Christ.”
To Jimmy’s surprise as well, Debbie responded, “Actually no. Enoch had dinner with Jesus many times. His memories I carry are just like being there with Jesus myself.”
“What was he like?” asked Jimmy.
“Probably not what you would expect from reading the Bible. He was quite charming and funny.”
Anxious to say her pick, Wu pressed, “Well who then Dibs?”
“Grimsanchis,” Debbie said to no reactions. “You know, the Erran that invented the code to organically program the Quartz Crystal Computers.”
Wu snorted “You’ve become such a nerd Dibs.”
“An extremely hot nerd,” added Jimmy.
“Touché.” Agreed Wu. “So my guy is Genghis Khan.”
“He was kind of a bad guy wasn’t he? He killed millions of people.” David E. argued.
“I don’t think bad is the word?” said Wu. “He was ruthless in warfare, especially if you crossed him, and he was a gifted military innovator. No surprise those traits racked up an unprecedented body count. But to those loyal to him, he was quite generous.”
Debbie added, “He created trade routes between Europe and Asia and established a codified legal system throughout his empire for which he never gets any credit.”
“He also took care of the families of his men that fell in battle.” Said Jimmy.
“See?” Said Wu.
“I’ll have to do some reading on him,” said David E. “My pick is Ben Franklin. Scientist, inventor, writer, politician, businessman. He drafted the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence and is the only Founding Father to sign all three documents that freed America from Britain.”
Debbie stated further, “Most people don’t know that Ben Franklin became an outspoken abolitionist later in life and freed his own slaves. He needed Keto though. In pictures he looks like a heart attack waiting to happen. Who’s your pick Jimsy, like I don’t know.”
“Vanessa Williams.”
“And I was right.” Said Debbie.
Shewuma groaned, “Come on Jim.”
David E. intervened. “Hey girls, Vanessa Williams is quite an accomplished business woman, singer, actor, first Black Miss America.”
“He was a kid when she won and then turned up naked in a magazine. He’s been obsessed with her ever since.” Debbie replied.
“I’m not obsessed with her. Why do you always say that?”
“How many posters do you own?”
“Two.”
“What are they?”
“I have a poster of all the major guitar chords and their variations.”
“Come on. What’s the other one?”
Defiantly he said, “Vanessa Williams.”
Wu laughed. “Yes, you are most certainly obsessed. Pick someone else Jim.” He seemed annoyed. “For me and Debbie. Okay?”
“Then I pick Joan of Arc.”
“His other obsession.” Said Debbie.
“At least I picked someone we’ve heard of and not some obscure alien flunky.”
“What the hell did you call him?”
“Alright, alright,” Interrupted Wu. “Let’s change the game. Your favorite joke. David E. you go.”
David E. thought for a moment. “You guys won’t like it. It’s a Catholic thing.” They all insisted he tell it. “Okay. A Catholic Priest was giving a group tour of the Vatican’s lower vaults. The people were astounded as he pointed out row after row of priceless relics, artifacts, and treasures. One man presented a question: So much was just being stored away, why doesn’t the Church sell a tiny portion and use the proceeds to help the needy? In disbelief the Priest answered dismissively, Fuck you!”
Jimmy and Wu were floored. Wu shook her head while Jimmy said, “Damn David E.”
“I told you. You have to be Catholic to appreciate it.” Then Debbie burst out laughing and he added, “Or have Alien DNA apparently. Here’s another one. In school, the Nun asks her class what they want to be when they grow up. Little Mary replies, A prostitute. A what? Demands the Nun, making the sign of the Cross. A prostitute, repeats Mary. Thank god. I thought you said Protestant.”
Jimmy said, “I didn’t know you were Catholic. We’ll talk about that later. Wu, you go before we get struck by lightning.”
“I’m doing two Knock-knock jokes. Knock-knock?” (“Who’s there?” asked David E.) “WAH” (“Wahoo?”) “YIPPIE! I made that up myself.” To mixed reactions she told the next one. “I need to set this up first. It always makes me laugh out loud. In a movie, Tom Hanks is playing this real serious, sour-puss kind of guy. His partners are ragging on him because he never laughs or tells jokes. He says, you want to hear a joke? I got one for you. Knock-knock. (“Who’s there”) “Go fuck yourself.” Wu laughed so hard she barely got the words out.
Everyone else was more amused by her laughing than the joke itself. Jimmy said, “Time for a real joke. A Trucker in a semi sees someone in distress and pulls off the road. The man is naked and hog tied on his knees all bent over. What happened to you, asked the trucker? A car ran me off the road. Two men dragged me back in the woods, took my money and clothes, beat me and left me like this. I’ve spent the last 2 hours crawling out here using my knees and forehead.” The trucker pulled down his zipper and said, “Buddy, this just ain’t your day.”
They couldn’t help laughing. Debbie and Wu looked at each other and said in unison, “Not rude, not crude, just nasty.”
“Debbie, you’re up.” Said Jim.
“I have two. A photon walks into a hotel. The desk clerk says, do you need help with your luggage? The photon says, No thanks, I’m traveling light.” They all chuckled as she went into the next one. “A neutron walks into a bar and asks, How much for a beer? The bartender says, For you, no charge.”
Jimmy and David E. laughed, but Shewuma said, “Don’t you have a joke that’s not nerdy?”
“Sure Wu. A Buddhist walks up to a hot dog vendor and says, Make me one with everything.”
Wu laughed, but David E. looked stumped. “I don’t get it.”
“Think about it David E.,” said Debbie.
Jimmy said, “What’s your favorite song Debs?”
Debbie responded, “I’m torn between, Led Zeppelin, Ramble On and The Immigrant Song ?”
“I’m not surprised, you and your Classic Rock. But you have to pick one.”
“No I don’t.”
“No she doesn’t,” echoed Wu.
“Alright then. The Comista of Earth has spoken. How about yours David E.? I’m guessing a little Frank.” Asked Jimmy.
Without hesitation David E. picked, “The Waters of March by Eliane Elias.”
“Ahh. Eliane Elias. I should have known.”
Debbie went to Wu. “What yours Sweety?”
“I have a tie. Two By Ella Fitzgerald. Love for Sale and Miss Otis Regrets.”
“Another double. Jim your next. And I think I know what it is,” Said Debbie.
“Allman Brothers, In Memory of Elizabeth Reed.”
Wu piped up, “That doesn’t have any lyrics. How can your favorite song not have lyrics?”
“Are you kidding. Your two songs are about a hooker and a woman who murders her husband.”
David E. began to laugh out loud. “What the hell is so funny about my song picks, David E.?”
“No, I just got Debbie’s joke about the Buddhist.”
Leaning over the front seat, Wu went into full tickle mode on Jimmy’s ribs. Trying to fend her off, he turned to face David E. and could barely get out the words, “Explain it to me David E.”
The road had opened up so Debbie down shifted and punched it, throwing Wu over and into Jimmy’s lap. Jimmy and Shewuma’s tickle fest was interrupted by the intensity of Debbie’s voice. “Guys. I think we have trouble. All 4 peered through the windshield at the northern sky as a dot heading toward them grew larger.
“It’s just a chopper Debs.” Said Jimmy.
Shewuma went for her bow and quiver. “What’s up Dibs? Trouble?”
Debbie pulled the van over. “They’re hailing me on an emergency government frequency. I’m checking their computer. No missiles are armed.”
Wu opened the side door and jumped out nocking an arrow. Jimmy followed her saying, “There are two in the front. I don’t see anyone manning the 50 cal.” Then put one in the chamber of his .45.
Debbie came around the front of the truck. “Guys. They’re from the USSF. Here to see David E.” The three stood protectively in front of David E. as the passing traffic slowed down to ogle the odd scene of a chopper landing in a whirlwind next to the freeway.
Two Black-Ops soldiers approached them warily, hands on their holstered weapons. “Were here to see the Command Sergeant Major.” He held out a piece of folded paper. David E. went for it but Jimmy’s hand to his chest stopped him.
“I’ll take that,” said Debbie. She read the hand written note and handed it to David E. Telepathically she said to all three. “This seems on the up-and-up. It’s a message from Wisty. But stay frosty. I don’t trust them or her.”
Wu responded silently, “You getting any bad vibes?”
“No. Nothing.”
“I got this,” said Jim. With blurred precision he immobilized the pilot with a full nelson. The partner was pulling his pistol when Debbie put him down with a purposely gentle but effective spinning kick to the head. She took his gun and put one foot on the back of his neck telling him, “Now you be still.”
Jimmy tightened up, eliciting a groan from his captive. “I’m going to ask you a question and this beautiful young lady is an empath. If you lie, she will know. Understand?” The man nodded yes frantically. Wu touched his neck while Jimmy asked, “What’s your mission here?”
“We were to deliver this message to David E. Major and bring him back to the Cave if he were amenable.”
“The Cave?” Jim asked.
David E. explained. “It’s what we call the underground facility outside of Philly.”
“What’s the word Wu?”
“He’s not lying Jim. And he’s scared shitless.”
Debbie backed up and the soldier got up gingerly. Jimmy released his man and disarmed him as he pushed him away. They both unloaded the service revolvers and returned them. “What’s the note say David E.?”
“Wisty. She says she may lose the baby. Wants me to come right away. I need to go. What do you guys think?”
Jim said, “You got to go man.”
“Bullshit!” Interrupted Wu. “This stinks to high heaven. You can’t trust her and we don’t even know if it’s her note.”
He looked at Debbie. “David E., you have to do what you feel is right. That is her handwriting.”
“Yeah,” David E. whispered pensively. Then repeated, “Yeah, it’s hers.” What else could he do? “I’m going.” Wu reacted heavily. “I have no choice Wu.”
Debbie told him telepathically, “I’m going to stay locked on to you for a while. Anything smells fishy, just holler and we’ll come running.”
“Thanks Deb.” He kissed her cheek and gave a reassuring hug to Shewuma.
Shewuma pointed her finger at the soldiers and spoke harshly. “Anything happens to this man and I will hunt you two down. Understand?”
“Yes Ma’am,” they both answered.
From the back of the chopper, David E. watched as his three companions grew smaller and then disappeared in the distance. The copilot answered his headset. “10-4. We have The Command Sergeant Major and we’re enroute.” After a pause he said. “Repeat that?… Copy.” David E. saw the man turning in his seat and heard the words, “Sorry buddy,” before blacking out.
As a babysitter, what was your, “Okay, that’s the last time I babysit for this family,” moment you had during a childcare job?
During my time in ministry, I found myself in a situation that I never expected. I don’t usually babysit, but this one time, I ended up being the primary caregiver for a family who was facing a devastating crisis.
It was during the Christmas holidays when their house caught fire. It started with their neighbor’s property, which the Fire Marshall ruled it electrical. Now this family had combustible chemicals in the garage due to the husband’s custom auto-painting business, focused mainly on Harley Davidsons. Unfortunately, the fire spread to their house, and they lost everything. To make things worse, the Red Cross refused to assist them. According to the Red Cross, they weren’t “needy enough.” This was shocking, especially considering the family had lost their two dogs and their entire home. All they had were the clothes on their backs. Thankfully, they had homeowner’s insurance.
The Senior Pastor didn’t ask me if I could help—he just told them to come over to my house. When they arrived, they were visibly upset. They had nothing, and their children were distraught over the loss of their dogs. They told me that the Pastor had given them my address.
The problem was, I wasn’t prepared for guests at 10:30 PM, especially not under these circumstances. I didn’t have any cots, blankets, or supplies for them. I immediately called the Elders and the Chief Usher, and they were upset that the Senior Pastor had told them to come without consulting me first. By the time they started showing up, it was after 1 AM. I was exhausted from a 14-hour day helping a commercial business owner battling cancer, and I had to be up before 4:30 AM to prepare equipment for the 5:45 AM shift. Still, we managed to gather cots, blankets, clothes, and food for the family.
I had to leave and go to my parent’s house to grab a key lock door knob for my firearms, as I had to secure them in my master bedroom. While I was at work the next day, I was infuriated by the lack of support from the Red Cross and Salvation Army. Neither organization offered any assistance, so I made a few phone calls. I also reached out to local news stations (ABC, NBC, and the local affiliate) to expose the lack of help. CBS was not interested. At the time, there was no “GoFundMe” or online fundraising, so I reached out to news outlets for help. The media coverage was eye-opening.
Yet at the same time I HAD to provide them child care for their school kids, after school. They would come home late at night, so this mean I was more like a “Foster” parent to their children – feeding, assisting with homework, and everything else – TOTALLY UNPAID!
The local Red Cross director made a statement that got national attention, which further compounded their Red Cross Scandal / disaster. The director said, “We have selective qualifications for whom we offer services to. Since [name] had combustible chemicals on the property, we cannot accept them as clients due to our strict policies.” A reporter responded, “So if I had gasoline in a container and it exploded due to a fire, that wouldn’t be my fault, and I wouldn’t be eligible for help?” The director replied, “Correct.”
That comment went viral, and donations for the Red Cross dwindled as people learned the truth behind their policies. The controversy was later dubbed the “Red Cross Scandal” in New Jersey.
In the meantime, an anonymous donor offered the family a house, and the community rallied to help. Despite their homeowner’s insurance covering most of the property’s value, they had a $55,000 co-pay to rebuild, which meant they had to hire a lawyer. And, to make matters even more complicated, they were still staying with me. In addition, nine people donated dogs to replace the two they lost in the fire. We ended up with nine dogs in my already cramped home. Donations flooded in—dog food, toys, and supplies, as well as people offering to adopt the excess dogs. Eventually, all but one of the dogs found new homes, and the remaining supplies were donated to local shelters.
Despite the overwhelming support from the community, the family’s behavior began to change. They had access to a temporary rental, but they became increasingly demanding. When it was time for them to move into their new home, they took almost everything from my house—furniture, kitchenware, televisions, and even my son’s bed and toys. They tried to break into my master bedroom as well.
When I told the Senior Pastor about the theft, he told me to let it go and not call the police. He didn’t seem interested in helping me replace my stolen items. I couldn’t let it slide, so I called the police. They (Police) returned with the unfortunate news that because the family had been staying with me for more than 10 days, they claimed everything as their own, the situation was now civil. I had no choice but to file a lawsuit against them, as much of the stolen property was high-end items—imported Italian leather furniture, antiques I had restored, and expensive electronics.
In court, the family lied, claiming I had given them permission to take the items to help them reestablish themselves. The judge didn’t buy it. He ruled in my favor, ordering them to pay me $65,000 plus additional damages, which I had proof of, thanks to receipts stored in filing cabinet along with videos and photographs. The judge also considered the family’s donations and contributions, which were public record at the time. He gave them three days to pay.
Unbeknownst to us, the family had already sold and closed their businesses, and they took the insurance money, sold the land. The judge ordered the sheriff to track them down. Investigators found them in Oklahoma, but by the time they located them, they had vanished again. The case was turned over to the federal division, and five years later, they were found, in North Carolina. They hired a high-powered lawyer, who argued that the statute of limitations had expired. But the judge made it clear that court orders don’t expire, and the lawsuit was still valid.
Eventually, the family’s lawyer attempted to argue that the state’s statute of limitations applied to the court’s ruling, but the judge ruled otherwise. By this time, because it had exceeded the state’s statue of limitations to collect – over 5 years → the family’s relocation to another state and reestablishing the business after the 5 years had surfaced. Frustrated their lawyer, who isn’t even able to turn them over to a collections agency. The Judge’s hands were tied. It was true, there’s a 5 year limitation on such.
Ultimately, I was forced to write off the losses with the IRS. The whole ordeal was exhausting, emotionally draining, and financially costly. The family, despite receiving so much help and goodwill from the community, ended up taking advantage of it and left me with the financial and personal fallout.
Neiman Marcus Bars (Texas Gold)
Neiman Marcus Bars are a Texas treasure for sure!
Ingredients
Bars
- 1 stick butter, melted
- 2 eggs, beaten
- 1 (18.25 ounce) box yellow cake mix*
- 1 cup shredded coconut
- 1 cup pecan pieces
- 1 cup chocolate chips (optional)
Icing
- 1 (1 pound) box confectioners’ sugar (4 cups)
- 1 (8 ounce) package cream cheese (room temperature)
- 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
- 1 teaspoon almond extract
Instructions
- Heat oven to 300 degrees F. Grease a 9 x 13 inch baking pan.
- Blend melted butter, eggs, cake mix, coconut, pecans and chocolate chips (if using) together by hand. Place mixture in prepared pan.
- Smooth out and pat down as best as possible.
- Beat confectioners’ sugar, cream cheese and vanilla and almond extracts with electric mixer until smooth.
- Pour over cake mixture and bake for 1 hour (check at 45 to 50 minutes).
- Cool and cut into squares, diamond or triangle shapes.
Notes
* 18.25 ounce boxes of cake mix have been replaced by 16.5 ounce and 15.25 ounce boxes. To compensate for the volume loss in a 16 ounce box, whisk 6 tablespoons all-purpose flour into the dry cake mix before proceeding with the recipe. To compensate for the volume loss in a 15.25 ounce box, add 1/2 cup + 3 tablespoons all-purpose flour and 1/4 teaspoon baking powder.
What do you think when you see an overweight person in a wheelchair?
I remember how badly my father was disrespected. He was an engineer, a career military officer and diplomat. When he retired he fell while installing a ceiling fan in his home and shattered his right leg. Then the replacement knee joint surgery did not go well and he wound up with a chronic open wound infection he and my mother cleaned out by hand every day.
My father also had a body build that was a problem during his entire career in the military. They put him on every diet and weight control program known with medical supervision to keep him “within healthy parameters”. Now I am certain that you can understand that once he shattered the bones in his right leg and was in constant pain with a bad knee replacement he could not be as physically active as he had been during his previous life.
Perhaps he should have opted to amputate the leg but who gets to make that choice for him?
My father was a fat guy in an electric scooter.
He was treated like crap. People intentionally stepped in front of him and mocked him.
They never knew or cared that my father designed and built tools used for space exploration, tested space suits, helped design technology used to build the International Space Station. They didn’t know that he trained astronauts. They didn’t know that he took part in designing the engine used in the B 52 bomber .They didn’t know about his nine years in the diplomatic services in Europe.
They didn’t know that after he retired and after he was injured he was still an engineering consultant for Proctor and Gamble and worked on improving production lines for items they were using in their own homes.
He was a fat guy in a wheelchair.
He was married to one woman, my mother, to the day he died. He raised two sons. In his lifetime he volunteered in the church choir, taught Sunday School, volunteered with the Boy Scouts, the Salvation Army. He was generous to friends and family and charity. The more successful he was, the more money he made, the more he gave away.
He was a fat guy in a wheelchair. That was all that people saw when he drove by. Someone to be sneered at, disrespected and mocked.
EDIT: Thank you to everyone who expressed their concern. I am very proud of the man my father was. I aspire to be like him. I was fortunate to have him in my life. I am not angry or bitter about the way strangers treated him. Neither was he actually. Those who knew him knew better.
I wanted to make the point that the next fat person you see in a wheelchair is not in a wheelchair or fat by choice. You also do not know their life story and what kind of person they are.
Yeah you say, some of them are fat and in a wheelchair because of their choices? Okay, if you insist. But how are you to judge which one is and which one is not? No. It is not up to you to judge and condemn them to be treated with disrespect.
We are all human beings and deserve to be respected and treated as such.
This comment maybe isn’t important.
I want to find out where’re the locations of Old Empire’s mind control machine. But I don’t know, I just saw the Earth. I don’t know is it a trap or just my imagine. And I thought cabbage to… of the characters of the machine. And I saw real cabbage somewhere, and saw MM said “mowing grass”, and saw “mowing grass” somewhere. Though this is not important. I just want to find them out and remove it.
I gusess maybe that those machine, maybe some of them, the physical parts are in Australia or nearby.
The Old Empire prefer to / like to build things on our (previous) areas, I think. So such like Milky Galaxy, maybe it’s in or nearby Lemuria. Australia is a good place. It’s a lonely continent with big desert and few people. And I remember a photo on MM’s website that groups of people migrated and to the west in history. And a coincident that the modern science, technologies and the power elites in West. The west of half of Europe is very far away from Australia. And the people cross the Atlantic Ocean to the North America, and many events, the gang power turn to the USA. So, they’re in good places, right?
The “ideal” (to the enemy) machine maybe like the cabbage outer leaves covering its root. So it’s harder than the other vegetables/machines to see the root, maybe. And the character of grass that they’re growing/reparing soon, maybe.
I have the ideas in my 10s years growing/development history. But I don’t know what’s the Old Empire operating look like. And I don’t have the technologies basement right now, so I don’t know, I can/could only have the ideas. Maybe I will write somethings in the other comment, but I don’t know.
Are there any way to asist in find the location out?
If i would take a wild guess i would have a closer Look at Antarctica^^