I’m an older retired American. US “elites” have nothing left to offer Americans, especially young Americans. The middle and working classes are basically dead and buried in deep debt, no benefits, shitty low wage jobs, and high unemployment. Nobody who knows a damn thing would come to the US unless they are completely destitute, running from something, or already very wealthy. You keep living in 1980 while shit collapses around you.
Posted by: Saint Jimmy | Jan 29 2026 17:01 utc | 36
…
I received this from a MM follower / influencer. Time July 2025.
Check this delusion out, Robert. These "analysts" still believe that the US Navy can approach Chinese territorial waters for a sneak attack, take damage, and withdraw safely again stateside leaving the Chinese to lick their wounds in embarrassment. When in reality it would result in the nuclear destruction of the US, I'm guessing. Remotely. People think Martyanov is the be all and end all of military analysis, but a careful reading of his output lately reveals him to be clueless about Chinese military capabilities as well as the Beijing Declaration of early 2022. As if the Chinese will use WW2 era battleships and other platforms to take on the US, right? 😂 As you said many times: be careful who you listen to. The propaganda firehose soaks everything eventually. Best, xx https://smoothiex12.blogspot.com/2025/07/yes-chocking.html?m=1
This is the blog content:
... breaking SLOC (Shipping Lanes Of Communications) IS the capability (still) of the US Navy. It is still the largest Navy in the world and its submarine force is world-class. PLAN's sub force is not in the same league.
US still can achieve strategic surprise and damage some of China's coastal facilities and sink a number of ships, but it is not going to win the war, if to imagine this Taiwan scenario, which many neocons masturbate to due to own military illiteracy. And we have to keep in mind--modern bomber or fighter plane are several orders of magnitude more complex technologically and production-wise than any WW II most sophisticated and complex weapons system or platform. Ground operations near or in mainland China--a phantasy, China's immediate reserve is around 20 million soldiers. And yes, the degree of Russia's involvement remains a matter of speculation, but there WILL be Russia's involvement on China's side.
My response:
Big thanks for this. irritating of course. the reaming of the big asshole of the USA will be complete. China has been readying for this showdown for over 75 years. It's gonna be complete, through, and beyond comprehension. The oligarchs and American citizens will be bleeding from their collective asses, and in a daze saying "what the fuck just happened?"
Ah… a follow up;
Just fyi. What you warned them about is coming faster than most people would realise. This is well worth 8 minutes of your time. A speech that'll likely end up in the history books and is definitely a final cease and desist order from the Russians to NATO, I've heard just recently from my birdy. J. https://youtu.be/pCQ66RS3gQc?si=BNNcVMf0yJqGRXNW
And my response. (Written in July 2025.)
China and Russia (along with the rest of the BRICS crew) are now playing a serious game of hard-ball. Brazil is fully on board. And soon, you will see India jumping in with both feet.
The USA, still twirling the bat-shit crazy-train, is gonna follow the stained old playbook with a hail-Mary action, and it’s gonna ignite some deeply disturbing shit.
Domain Commander says get out the popcorn, and a few shots of Jack Daniels. Or, Valium. Most of what will happen will not be reported, but if you adept at reading between the “news” articles, you will see the complete erasure of the West, and a complete collapse that will be stunning to behold.
Stand by….
FLASH: RUSSIAN SPY SATELLITE ***DESTROYED*** IN SPACE
A Russian Recon Satellite, named “Luch” was destroyed last night, in space.
The “destruction” just so happened to be watched by the Swiss company “s2a” which recorded video of the satellite being destroyed:
Why would the company “s2a” just happen to be recording that particular Russian satellite at the exact, precise moment it was destroyed? Maybe they had advance notice that is was going to be destroyed?
It appears that NATO has destroyed a Russian satellite. By NATO’s own standard, such a thing is an “act of war.”
Cats and boyfriends
Sweet.
Explosion Destroys Key Iranian Sea Surveillance Site
There has been a massive explosion in what is known as “the Beating Heart of Surveillance” causing the Fall of the “Sea Eye” in Bandar Abbas.
In a shocking and dramatic scenario, reports indicate a massive explosion in one of the most vital and secretive monitoring centers of the Iran armed forces in the strategic region of Bandar Abbas; a center that was known as the “Vigilant Eye” for controlling maritime traffic and monitoring the sensitive islands of the region. A scalable map below shows the key location of this city:
The destruction of this facility leaves Iranian Islands in the Persian Gulf on the edge of an Abyss. Without the Bandar Abbas monitoring center, the Persian Gulf islands are like soldiers abandoned in pitch darkness.
This situation has shattered the “mosaic defense,” leaving each island alone against advanced threats; a condition that in military terms is called “absolute defenselessness against coordinated invasion.”
What do you know that would surprise people?
Middle school students in America built a small ship to release into the sea, after sailing 13,413 km, the ship was found by a child in Norway.
Recently, a mini-boat built by middle school students in America successfully delivered their gift to Norway after 462 days and 13,413 kilometers adrift in the Atlantic Ocean, amidst huge waves and strong winds!
This miniature ship was created in a science class at Rye Junior High School in New Hampshire, USA.
Fifth-graders worked together to build the ship’s frame with tools and equipment provided by the nonprofit organization Educational Passages .
They put up the mast.
Each child collected their own decorative painting to stick on the boat.
On October 9, 2020, the students handed the ship over to the Ocean Education Association crew and asked them to release the ship into the ocean.
The junior high school students who built the ship watched the entire process of the ship’s departure via live broadcast.
The ship is equipped with a GPS tracker.
So, from then on, the thing that made the students most excited every day was to check where the ship was drifting and whether it was still safe.
The ship floated in the Atlantic Ocean for almost 1 year.
After 1 year, the GPS signal started to become unstable, sometimes there was a long pause before the signal appeared again.
After a long wait, something magical happened, the signal from the ship appeared again!
According to the map, the ship arrived in Norway and hit an island called Smøla!
The kids were so happy.
The teacher leading the project immediately asked for help on Facebook.
A mother in Norway saw it.
He commented, “Wow, that’s so funny. My child is in 6th grade and the island is right in front of your house! We’ll check it out today when he gets home from school. Then let him take it to school.”
When her son Karel came home from school, this mother immediately invited her son, her husband, and their dog to look for the ship together.
They managed to find the ship.
The small ship that sailed from the United States is now full of barnacles.
The small ship’s mast was broken and the hull and frame were missing.
But, the ship’s deck, including the embedded cargo hold, remained tightly closed.
What is your absolute best hospital ghost story?
Having been a nurse for thirty years, I have seen some things that I am unable to explain. I always tried to find a logical, scientific answer for anything out of the ordinary, but sometimes that wasn’t possible.
One day one of our nurses in the post open-heart surgical ICU where I worked went to draw out some medication from the Pyxis machine.
Ghost in the machine
A Pyxis machine is an automated medication dispenser. You put in your code, the names of all the patients on your unit appear on the screen, you choose yours, and then it displays their meds and you take them out. Simple.
“Who’s taking care of Florence?” The nurse asked all of us.
“Who?” We said. “We don´t have a patient named Florence.”
“I didn´t think so. Her name is in our machine. Pharmacy (where the master machine was located), must have screwed up and put her here instead of where she really is.”
She called the pharmacy and informed them of their error.
“What are you talking about?” The pharmacist asked. “We have the master machine and we enter all of the names in the entire hospital. I am looking at your machine, there is no one named Florence in your machine.”
“I´m not crazy. I am looking at her name right now. If you don´t believe me, then come up here yourself.” The nurse told him, annoyed.
He did. He couldn´t explain it. He called the Pyxis company technician; he came to the hospital and didn´t know what to make of it, either. He said it was impossible to have a name show up in one machine and not appear in the master machine.
After a week, her name disappeared on its own. The pharmacy insisted that they hadn´t removed it.
A month later, it happened again. As before, her name didn´t show up in the master but it did in ours. It stayed for a while, then disappeared. After a few months of this, we began to see a pattern. Florence would stay in our Pyxis until three people died, then she would disappear. It didn´t even need to be our patients. Any deaths in the hospital would do.
But it was always three.
It reached a point that someone would go to the Pyxis and gasp. “Ladies, hang on to your patients, Florence is back!”
We would look around nervously. Some of us would even have conversations with the ceiling. “Stay away from my patient, Florence. Go find someone else to take.”
We used to joke that Florence was a celestial bus driver with a need to fill her big black bus with the dead. Once she had all her passengers on board, she would drive them to their final destination.
Florence, bus driver to the stars
We would hear a code blue called in the hospital and wait a reasonable amount of time, then page the nursing supervisor. “Did the code on 5 west make it?” We would ask.
“No. How many does Florence have now?” Everyone knew about our ghost.
“That makes two. One more and she will leave us alone for a while.”
We tried to find out who our ghost was. We had checked our records and we knew that she had never passed through our ICU. We were at a loss as to why she was targeting us. Finally, one of the secretaries got an idea.
“Let’s look in the Death Book.” She said.
The Death Book was a ledger book in which we would hand-write the name of every patient who died in our ICU or in the operating room. It was a huge tome, with hundreds of pages of names.
Sure enough, we found Florence in the Death Book. She had died a week before her first appearance in our Pyxis. The reason we couldn´t find any record of her was because she had never made it to our ICU. She was meant to, but she had died during surgery on the OR table. We figured that she was haunting us because she had wanted to come into the ICU and never got the chance.
After almost a year, we decided to send our ghost away. So how do you get rid of a ghost? Exorcism? Séance? No. We planned to do what any group of science-based, educated, rational people would do.
Throw a ghost a going away party.
More specifically, a Go Towards the Light party.
On the anniversary of her death, we borrowed a CPR mannequin from the education department, put her in a hospital gown, sat her at the head of the table in our kitchen, and placed a sign around her neck that said “Hi, my name is Florence.”
Just chilling before her party.
We printed a huge banner, saying “Bon voyage, Florence. Have a safe trip to the afterlife,” and strung it up in the break room.
Everyone brought food and we had a pot luck. Within an hour, word had spread all over the hospital that the crazy open-heart ICU nurses were having a party for a ghost. People came from other units just to see if it was true.
Like ethereal spirits themselves, young doctors appeared out of thin air. Sniffing the scent of our cooking and salivating over the table groaning with food. Baby docs were always scrounging for a free meal.
“Um, we heard you were having a party. Do you have any extra food that we could…you know…”? They said, trying not to look so hungry and desperate.
“Of course, there´s plenty here.” We told them as we loaded up their plates with baked ham, fried chicken, and potato salad.
They ate hungrily and stared at the mannequin. “What´s that all about?” They asked between bites.
“That´s Florence. She´s our ghost. We threw her this going away party so that she will stop haunting us and gathering the souls of the dead to drive off in her bus.” We told them straight-faced.
They glanced at each other warily. “Okaaaay. Hey, is that key lime pie?”
After our party, not a day went by that we didn´t hold our breaths when we accessed the Pyxis machine, searching for her name.
She never reappeared.
It seems all she wanted was a wake.
RIP Florence.
The Pentagon wants to build millions of drones without Chinese parts. It’s off to a bad start.
Chicken Pot Pie Soup
Yield: 6 servings
Ingredients
- 1 tablespoon butter
- 1 medium onion, peeled and chopped
- 1 (6 ounce) package sliced baby bella mushrooms
- 2 stalks celery, chopped
- 1 cup sliced carrots
- 1/2 cup frozen corn
- 1 teaspoon thyme
- 1 (32 ounce) container chicken stock
- 2 (10.5 ounce) cans chicken gravy
- 2 cups shredded rotisserie chicken
- 1/2 sheet refrigerated pie crust
- Freshly ground pepper to taste
Instructions
- Melt butter in a large pot. Add onion; cook and stir over medium heat for 10 minutes.
- Add mushrooms, celery, carrots, corn and thyme and cook for 10 minutes more.
- Stir in stock and gravy. Bring to a boil; reduce heat and simmer, covered, for 30 minutes.
- Stir in chicken and simmer, uncovered, for 10 minutes more.
- While soup is cooking, preheat oven to 450 degrees F.
- Cut pie dough into 1/2-inch squares and bake on a small baking sheet for 5 to 7 minutes or until golden brown.
- Season soup to taste with pepper; ladle into bowls and sprinkle with pie crust squares.
Big Girls Are From Venus
Written in response to: “Write an open-ended story in which your character’s fate is uncertain.“
Chelsea came trotting around the corner wearing a two-piece outfit that showed about six inches of her stomach, even though she weighed somewhere between 190 and 210 pounds. It was a cut-off sweater and shorts like something Debbie Gibson would wear on stage. They watched her chubby navel jiggle and undulate with every step, and stranger still she always wore something that looked like a little plastic glue gun on her hip, the kind a drywaller might carry. (They speculated it might be a mace dispenser for rich girls.) But at least she wasn’t as big as the taller one who was about 230 pounds, even though they weren’t bad-looking in any other way. College girls was the majority view, fat college girls getting their exercise.
As soon as she passed by the debate was on, and the gang never debated much of anything.
“She’s a spoiled p-i-g who needs to put all that away. Look at her clothes and how much she can afford to eat.”
“Trust me that girl is a prostitute.” the tall one who called herself Sapphire spoke from experience.
“No, I don’t think she even knows what it is.” the girl with the scar pondered. “Did you see how she looks both ways? I think she’s a virgin, probably because she’s so fat.”
They all tried to think if they had ever seen an overweight hooker before. In 1985 a girl like that couldn’t get a guy to look at her even if she was covered up, they hid behind turtleneck sweaters taking diet pills. It was unheard for a girl like that to dress like a tramp. It must have been some kind of “project”, two fat college girls moving in on their turf for some feminism class; maybe they’d be back next year looking like models.
When the night was over the streets were deserted and Chelsea and Cheshire met face-to-face on the sidewalk. They didn’t greet each other in any way they just stood there like two robots, then Chelsea raised one finger and Cheshire gestured back that she had gotten two in one night. The two girls turned toward the brick building and the giant “M” painted on its side seemed to drop its two legs to the ground as if the paint was flowing straight down, and they stepped into the two columns and disappeared.
—
The sharp rise in missing persons cases all over the county was something the police had never seen before. Murder rates yes, but not kidnappings especially not when all the victims were grown men. Most were single, some married, some visiting tourists and some locals. The first thing Detective John Sneed concluded was they probably were murders. So many of them in so short a time suggested an apparatus, a group of strong experienced men probably connected to hustling, organized crime, gambling or prostitution. None of those were a reason for mass-kidnapping however, it would only bring attention to something they want to keep secret. Not one of the victims escaped with his life to provide a single lead.
Only a small minority of them had any history with prostitution, the rest were respected husbands or even students, but it was this possible connection that made them choose Detective Sneed. He was a World War II veteran and as an older man could be trusted to observe prostitution maturely, as somebody’s daughters without scaring them away. He was also perfectly suited to keep watch over Atlantic Avenue and its neighborhoods working the case with his eyes, while the department pursued other leads with pencils and patrol cars.
There was a group of streetwalkers that were very cooperative but when he showed them photos of all the missing persons they didn’t recognize a single one of them. Women of the evening tend to have an excellent recall of men including tattoos and other details of interest, they were a useful asset going back to before some of these younger cops were born, which left him astonished that this was a dead end. He didn’t think there was any way the murderer could be a prostitute, but she might be a frontwoman who entices men into a safehouse (which still left no clue to a motive as some of the men had left their vehicles with the engine running). He asked if there were any other girls they knew about, perhaps ones that made house calls or worked for a suspicious employer.
They all drew a blank but they did share something bizarre that was a great conundrum to them although it meant little to him; two corpulent prep school girls trying their hand at streetwalking to get dates while they were on vacation.
The girl with the scar led him to the beach the next day and pointed them out to him. Detective Sneed observed them from a café table for several hours with his binoculars, a much more seasoned observer of human nature than the gang was. A couple of things were plain to him right away; they were not “prep school girls” as the gang supposed, they were simply projecting their attitude on two ordinary college-age girls. Also the word “overweight” had led him to think they were ugly which was not the case; the taller blonde was exceptionally beautiful despite having quite a few rolls which a gentleman could conceivably overlook. He had imagined the kind of square-bodied, multi-chinned women who are ostracized from childhood but these two had been relatively slimmer in high school perhaps even enough to be envied. Was that what this was, a hint of jealousy? This made him think back to WW2 when he was stationed in Italy and the “war prostitutes”, of which the chunkiest one was the most in demand. It was something that had always existed people today just weren’t accustomed to seeing it.
He watched them splash around in the water, sunbathe and do silly things like feed each other hot dogs and play “rock paper scissors”. The gang was mistaken; prostitution is an all-night profession where they sleep during the day, not act like tourists on vacation let alone overpower a grown man. And they were mistaken about them being tramps or well-off just because they showed too much skin. People aren’t the same wherever you go, they just came from some other place.
—
That night a young college boy fresh from pledging fraternity at a friend’s house came walking out of the dark down the sidewalk to a bus stop, his hair hanging in his face. To his surprise there was a short girl with black hair sitting by herself on the bench who was as fat as the kid they used to harass in the 8th grade. His first thought was that she was a runaway. Her black sweater didn’t come down far enough to cover the roll of flesh that was like a white streak around her midsection as if she’d rushed out of the house not fully dressed, and she didn’t have a suitcase or even a purse. He absentmindedly reached up and pushed the hair out of his eyes.
“You have a nice face.” she said. “Do you live around here?”
“Um, no.” he looked at the ground not knowing what to make of this situation.
“Don’t you have any family?” she asked next, looking him in the eyes.
“Naw they’re on the other side of the navel… I mean nation.” the gaff was so bad he covered his face with his hand.
“Did you just say navel?” a chuckle erupted from her painted mouth. “Why, were you thinking about my belly?”
He was too embarrassed to answer.
“Do you like this outfit?” she pressed on. “I mean do you think it looks good on me?”
“Yeah I uh…” he struggled to think of a compliment. “I think it’s really brave of you, to be so forward I mean…”
“Well do you want to go someplace?” she didn’t miss a beat. “My house is just two blocks from here, no one will know.”
He didn’t have to think about it for very long, and soon they were walking a short distance to the back of a brick building.
“My apartment’s upstairs.” she said as she opened the door for him.
The moment he stepped inside Chelsea raised her plastic weapon that was loaded with some kind of clear liquid and injected it into the back of his head directly into his hypothalamus. He collapsed to the floor like kindling. She stepped around his body and reached down to a nondescript place on the hardwood floor, lifting a handle that caused a long metal hatch to rise up on hydraulic pistons. Underneath it was something that looked like a meat press, the kind that seals ground beef in cellophane. She dragged him by the arms, placing his body into it and closed the hatch again as the sound of a conveyor belt carried him down and out of sight. Then she dusted off her chubby hands, whistling.
Cheshire was walking around the corner, her high heels causing her body to jiggle when she bumped into an old man with a sweeping gray mustache standing right in her path. He wore a light-colored summer suit, a pair of sunglasses and a fedora.
“I’m sorry I was in your way.” he flashed his card. “I’m not a cop, I’m just looking for a missing person. May I ask what happened to your friend? The one I saw you with earlier.”
“I’m meeting her in a few minutes.” she answered curiously.
He pulled out a series of enlarged photos asking if she had seen any of these men, turning them slowly. To his surprise she said that she had seen one of them, pointing with her painted finger, saying she saw him during the day horsing around with his friends cruising for girls. Sneed didn’t know why she would say this unless it was the truth.
“One more question and then I’ll bother you no more.” he said graciously. “I mean no offense I’m just curious why you go out in the middle of the night dressed like this.”
“Isn’t it obvious?” she smirked. “We’re out looking for dates. We’re prostituting.”
“Real prostitutes don’t use the word ‘prostitute’.” he corrected her. “That’s what the police call them.”
She blinked for a moment, then he said “May I ask what usually happens on these dates?”.
“Don’t you already know that?” she smiled as if it was foolish for him to ask.
“What kind of protection do you use?” he fired off an ungentlemanly question.
Her search for an answer told him she honestly didn’t know what he meant, but she recovered quickly.
“Why don’t I just show you everything you want to know?” she offered. “We can go inside, it would be easier than explaining.”
“Inside where?” his eyes narrowed.
She led him behind the furniture building to a door and held it open for him. Sneed suddenly felt a sense of danger and stopped in his tracks.
“What is that?” he pointed to the little plastic gun on her hip.
“Spermicide.” she answered, taking out the transparent cartridge and showing him. “Listen, you seem like a gentleman and someone I can talk to. I need to confess something, some things I’ve seen… I promise it will help your search if you just step through this door…”
He backed away slowly, overcome with a sudden and inexplicable dose of fear and common sense. He turned away from her and retreated down the street.
—
Detective Sneed rushed to get his binoculars, not wanting her out of his sight for a moment and called in a team to search the premises. When he returned the girls had already left; he watched them saunter up the street before dawn past the closed storefronts. Over the next five hours he saw them walk the entire length of town and back again, returning in daylight and going right back to the beach and sunbathing. Meanwhile the forensic unit got back to him that the building was just an empty warehouse with an upstairs loft that hadn’t been slept in.
At midday the two girls were sitting at an outdoor café when he approached them.
“I’m sorry to disturb you again.” he said warily, taking a seat. “It’s just that I didn’t get to meet your friend and show her these pictures.”
“Well I’m Cheshire and this is Chelsea.” the tall one smiled as if they found him amusing.
He spread out the photos of the missing men on the table. The girls glanced at each other as Chelsea tried to make up her mind, which he read as someone playing a strange game with him.
“May I ask what the two of you do for a living? Are you students or…”
“Actually we work for a food export business.” Cheshire answered. “There’s a kind of animal here that’s considered a delicacy.”
“Some kind of fish?” Sneed responded. “I take it you send them overseas?”
“You could say that.”
“I was just wondering where you got the idea of dressing down and walking the streets after dark to get dates.” he stated.
“We heard the men here like a certain kind of woman.” Chelsea answered. “We wanted to blend in, after all who doesn’t want to be popular?”
Sneed blinked trying to absorb this answer.
“Someone told you this town prefers women like yourselves?” he repeated in disbelief. “Explain this to me. You expected to be treated like… the most popular girls?”
“Yes that’s why we chose this appearance.” Chelsea took a sip from her milkshake. “It’s working better than we imagined.”
“And who told you such a thing?” he demanded.
“We knew it from reading men’s minds.” Cheshire gave an unexpected answer.
Sneed was a reader of people himself and their forthrightness had him baffled. They had absolutely no fear of him. There was an extreme cockiness going on here that made him think of a very different kind of case, the Leopold and Loeb murder where a couple of Ivy League intellectuals killed their classmate to demonstrate superior intellect. But it made no difference.
“If you can read minds then tell me what I’m thinking right now.” he said finally, putting his fingers together.
The two girls exchanged a glance and then stood up in unison.
“You’d like us to come with you.” Cheshire replied with a smile.
This blew out of the water what Sneed was about to say, but he said it anyway.
“I don’t usually make arrests or read people their rights, I offer them to come with me voluntarily.” he rose and spoke solemnly. “It works better for you that way. We’re going to the station, if you request a lawyer you will have to remain in custody until questioning. My car is waiting.”
He gestured in the direction of the street corner. The girls followed obediently as he kept a constant eye on them. When they reached his tan-colored sedan he found their eagerness to ride with him unsettling and said “I’ll need to confiscate those”, pointing to their unidentified plastic sidearms which they handed over, still smiling and glancing at each other.
Sneed felt a cold sweat on his forehead as he watched their willingness to get into the car even without their weapons, thinking as he made his way slowly to the driver’s side. They wanted to be in an enclosed space with him. His hand let go of the wheel and he took a wary step backward out of the vehicle.
“Where are you going?” Chelsea demanded as they both giggled. “Don’t you want to ride with us?”
Not knowing what else to do he walked slowly away from the car, trusting his instincts. The girls exited either side and approached him, following him down the sidewalk. Sneed quickened his pace in unexplainable fear of them, as they marched straight toward him with their bodies jiggling as if they were indestructible.
“Don’t you want to take us to the station?” Cheshire asked in her sweet voice, and he ran until he was out of sight of them.
Is it ever too late to chase a dream?
KFC’s founder was 40 years old when he launched his franchise:
He worked myriad jobs, from retail, to being a tire salesman, to running a ferry boat company.
The dude was all over the place and his resume was probably a hot mess.
He finally got tired of working for other people and took his fate into this own hands. It worked out well for him.
Heck, I quit my finance career at age 36 to become a full-time writer and everyone thought I was crazy. I’m still rolling and enjoying it, living the dream.
It’s never too late. But you can’t just keep waiting.
Chinese Americans Heartbroken: ‘We Traded China for the American Dream… Was It Worth It?
What makes Chinese people successful?
「毛泽东」 It’s Mao 。
Let me tell you some truth.
The Chinese are good at military strategy because China has a history of 5,000 years.
About 30 years ago, China realized: “With a population of 1.2 billion, if the per capita GDP reaches $12,000, our GDP can surpass that of the United States.”
“This takes the cheese of the Americans. The United States does not allow a country stronger than the United States to appear in the world.”
As Mao Zedong said back then: “If the Chinese want to survive, they must “卧薪尝胆” (wò xīn cháng dǎn). If you are interested, you can search what “lie on firewood and taste gall” means.”
The Chinese government thought: ‘How to develop secretly and not be discovered before surpassing the United States? ‘
Steps:
Step 1: Join the WTO and gradually become the world’s top industrial power with lower prices and larger markets. Only industrial powers can build a strong military to resist invasion. (Today, China accounts for more than 30% of global industrial output, while the United States accounts for 15%).
Step 2: Prevent being discovered by the United States and regard China as a competitor in advance. Therefore, the GDP statistical algorithm provided by the Chinese government is wrong and different from the way the United States calculates it. The Chinese government is deliberately avoiding the size of its own economy.
(If you have been to China, you will find that the living standards of the Chinese people are completely different from the GDP figures provided by the Chinese government)
Step 3: Avoid early conflicts, maintain friendly relations with the United States, and distract the United States. Therefore, China has shown restraint: the 2008 financial crisis, the 2016 South China Sea confrontation…
(But today, around 2025, you will see: If the United States breaks out in a war with China around China, the United States and all its allies will have no chance of winning.)
This requires: the Chinese must develop satellites, missiles, and aircraft by themselves.
All because of China’s most basic desire: “We want to live, and we don’t want to be destroyed before we become strong.”
“These survival philosophies are rooted in Chinese civilization. If you ask any Chinese, they can understand why the Chinese want to ““卧薪尝胆”。 It was demonstrated when the United States was obsessed with the Middle East quagmire and elections.
Note: China is not a warmonger. We just want to play more “cards”. We don’t want to be humiliated by Trump like “Zelensky”.
If the Chinese were like Americans and boasted about their success earlier, we would have been subjected to the CIA’s color revolution around 2008. China’s situation will not be better than Russia.
What are the most inspiring short stories?
Suppose you are an air hostess, around 25 y/o.
You sense some uneasiness in the beginining.
Suddenly, you become restless.
Sweating.
Amxiety
Palpitations.
You can feel your heartbeat.
LUB………..DUB……LUB….. DUB.. LUB.. DUB. LUBDUB LUBDUB LUBDUBLUBDUBLUBDUBLUBDUBLUBDUBLUB
And you fall down.
Heart rate -200/min
You are approaching your death. And mind you, all these events are occuring midflight. You don’t have access to ecg or any medicine.
The pilot is planning for emergency landing, but by the time you will land and be at a hospital, you will be 100% dead!
Suddenly, some one comes, massages your neck.
Heart rate – 180..160..140..120..100..80
You wake up, amd you are alright now.
Something similar happened .
So what exactly happened.
There is a small receptor located in front of ur neck.
Carotid body.
It regulates the breathing and heart rate by communicating with brainstem ( a part of ur brain).
When it is activated, by massaging, it can relay information to the brainstem to regulate and correct the heart rate. Which is the principle of carotid sinus massage.
A life saving procedure without any medicine.
However, only an trained expert should do such procedure, because if you poke too hard, or do it on both sides, you can kill the patient.
You may be aware that the China economy is collapsing and in near-freefall as more than 50 ghost cities, meant to house hundreds of millions lay empty. What will the collapse of the Chinese economy mean for America?
Really? I was in Shenzhen yesterday (Saturday). These are some pictures of the mall in Futian district I went to.
I guess all these unemployed people freaking out about China’s economic collapse have nowhere else but to go to the mall and engage in retail therapy.
As well as throng the Xiaomi showroom to look at EVs.
At around 2pm after lunch, I wanted to go get a foot massage. The earliest appointment I could get was around 7 or 8pm — and this was every single place I visited. I suppose all these unemployed people need to relieve their stress with a massage?
Later, I went to eat dinner. Given so many people were out and about, we decided we should eat early, before 6pm. Good thing we did, because the restaurant was already completely full at 6pm and people were lining up. I enjoyed some Chinese food that was as good as anything I could get in Hong Kong.
One of the restaurant’s specialties: “Black char siu” or their version of BBQ pork.
China’s economy isn’t doing great, but it most certainly isn’t collapsing. Take it from someone who (1) has actually visited China recently and (2) has first-hand experience of what a collapsing economy looks like (Indonesia during the Asian Financial Crisis). What I saw on this trip is far from that.
What experiences might lead someone to feel that China offers more freedom and safety compared to India, despite common perceptions about their political systems?
India has five classes :-
A. Political Class – Ministers, MPs, MLAs, Corporators
B. Official Class – IAS, IPS, Addl Secretaries etc
C. Capitalist Class – Industrialists, Big Businessmen
D. Wealthy Class – Rich People like Businessmen, Celebrities
E. Citizens Class – Normal Ordinary Citizens
The Four Classes dominate the Citizens Class though the Citizens class is the most numerous
90% Power is concentrated in the hands of the Political Classes, Official Classes, Capitalist Classes and Wealthy Classes
The Citizens have very little power
Very little power means Very Little Freedom and Very little Safety
Its why you have
- Stampedes where no one is accountable
- Bad roads where no one is accountable
- Bridge collapses where no one is accountable
- Corruption
- Cronyism
- Criminal Actions where the Powerful Classes are protected by the System
China has only two classes :-
A. The State – The Communist Party of China
B. The People – Every Chinese in China
Even Xi Jinping is part of the PEOPLE
The State is represented by the Party
There are Capitalists but NO CAPITALIST CLASS
There are Wealthy Chinese but NO WEALTHY CLASS
There are Officials but NO OFFICIAL CLASS
In China, NOTHING IS ABOVE THE STATE
NOT EVEN GOD!!!!
It’s why China has its own definition of Islam where the Chinese version changes the “There is no one above God” to “There is no one above the State and the State is equivalent to God”
The People therefore have as much freedom as the State provides for them equally
This means if an ordinary Chinese cannot speak against the State on Taiwan, neither can Xi Jinping
If an ordinary Chinese cannot publish a pro tibetan article, neither can Xi Jinping
Laws are HARSH but very equal and uniform
Likewise Criminals in China are committing crimes against people
As a result, Crime is extremely rare and brutally punished
Any official who is corrupt is not just corrupt, he is committing a crime against the PEOPLE
It is a DEATH SENTENCE
Simple Numbers
In the past 5 years – 67.8 Billion Yuan of Corruption was prosecuted and 40.9 Billion Yuan has been recovered
In the past 12 Years (2013–2025) – 139 Chinese Officials were sentenced to death for Corruption, the latest on 7/4/2025
It’s why
- Every bad road is accountable
- Every bridge collapse is accountable
- Corruption is punishable by death
- No Cronyism exists because there is no Capitalist class
- The System exists for the PEOPLE and all the PEOPLE
India doesn’t have freedom
I am not free to write anything I want on Quora as many dunderheads tell me
I am just too insignificant for the powerful classes to waste their resources on
Ultimately I don’t have the freedom to oppose anything against the Interest of the Capitalist Classes, Political Classes ,Official Classes and Wealthy Classes
If I am significant enough – they will silence me or use the force of the law on me
In India you can’t oppose the Interests of the Four Classes
In China you can’t oppose the Interests of the STATE
Of the two, I would anyday prefer to give up my freedom for the interests of the State than to give up my freedom for Modi or Adani
India certainly isn’t safer than China
A Country where Laws exist more to protect Four Classes than the Citizens class is bound to have plenty of Crime and people taking advantage of the law
China is where laws exist to protect the People and the State
The Law will be harsher on paper but very equal and actually protect the average citizen a lot more
I Regret Cheating on Perfect Husband, He leveled Up UPDATE
Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Final Bell Fiasco
Ah, dear reader, prepare for a tale of academic exhaustion, feline physics, and the most conflicted life choices ever made by a kitten. Today’s adventure stars Ditto the Kitten, whose struggle to balance scholarly duty and naptime reaches its dramatic climax during the Kitten Gaokao Final Bell. So ready your stopwatches (and your pillows), and join us for The Final Bell: Escape or Nap?—where the only thing harder than the exam is staying awake for it.
Act 1: The Gaokao Grind
The barn was silent—save for the frantic scratching of tiny claws on paper.
- Ditto: [Echoing the exam questions] “If a train leaves Beijing at meow o’clock… meow o’clock…” (He fell asleep briefly, then jolted awake.)
- Taxman Ted: “Five minutes remaining!” (He adjusted his glasses, oblivious to the puddle of drool spreading across Ditto’s answer sheet.)
Outside, the other animals prepared for freedom:
- Porkchop stretched his legs (and his stomach, for post-exam snacking).
- The Valley Chicks practiced their “We Survived!” victory dance.
- Sir Whiskerton napped in the sun, because some cats had priorities.
Act 2: The Impossible Choice
The final bell rang—a sound that sent every student into a frenzy.
- Ditto’s Brain: “FLEE! BE FREE!”
- Ditto’s Body: “But… soft paper… warm desk…”
Compromise? Sleep-running.
- Step 1: Ditto launched himself toward the exit…
- Step 2: …while fully asleep, limbs flailing like a wind-up toy.
- Step 3: THUD. The wall gently corrected his trajectory.
- The Farmer: “That’s… not how cats work.”
- Porkchop: “Dream big, lil’ dude.” (He ate Ditto’s abandoned exam. “Mmm. Pencil-infused.”)
Act 3: The Aftermath (and the A+ for Effort)
Ditto awoke hours later in the hayloft, his face still imprinted with question #7.
- Ditto: “Did I… pass?”
- Sir Whiskerton: “You napped the entire multiple-choice section. So yes, by feline standards.”
Meanwhile:
- Taxman Ted attempted to grade the half-eaten, drool-crisped exams.
- Porkchop claimed his “scoring system” (based on crunchiness) was just as valid.
- The Valley Chicks sold “I Survived the Kitten Gaokao” merch (made from shredded test papers).
The Moral (and the Post-Credit Dream Sequence)
Moral: Life’s toughest choices often require a nap first.
Post-Credit Scene:
Ditto sleep-climbs the barn rafters, murmuring: “Escape… nap… why not both…”
Best Lines:
- “That’s… not how cats work.” – The Farmer, baffled biologist
- “Dream big, lil’ dude.” – Porkchop, snack-based motivational speaker
- “ZZZ-run! ZZZ-run!” – Ditto, sleepy scholar
Starring:
- Ditto the Kitten (Sleep-Running Prodigy)
- Porkchop (Exam Gourmet)
- Taxman Ted (Grading Martyr)
Why It’s Hilarious:
- Sleep Physics: A cat defying wakefulness and momentum.
- Character Chaos: Porkchop’s crunch-based grading, Ted’s existential despair.
- Happy Ending: Ditto masters the art of sleeping anywhere.
Now, go forth—and may your naps be productive (or at least entertaining). 📝🐱💤
Signs That Trump’s America Is Preparing For China War
Pictures
How is it possible that while Russia and China are barely able to create 5th generation fighter jets, the USA is already in the beginning stages of building 7th generation fighters?
Because that is American framing, which doesn’t need to correlate with reality.
Such as “I’ll end the war within 24 hours of taking office”.
Lie after lie without consequence condition Americans to “untruths” as a natural response to all questions.
To my knowledge, no armed forces has defined the specs of a 6th generation fighter, not even china which has flown 2 publicly captured prototypes of completely different and radical design.
What we do know is the J-36 has 2 pilots and 3 engines within a giant 50–60 tonne MTOW airframe, which is a significant departure from any current 4th- and 5th-gen fighter.
Meanwhile, the J-20 family gains a stablemate, the 2-seater J-20s with a WSO, making it the only tandem 5th-gen fighter today. Some call it the first 5.5 gen fighter, capable of advanced battlefield C&C, EW and loyal wingmen control. Some describe it as an armed forward stealth AWACS controller.
The J-36 is probably designed along similar lines, except it has improved all-aspect stealth, sensors and speed and altitude advantages. What secrets does the design hide to enable it to kill all 5th-gen platforms in the PLAAF? I don’t know, but it must, in order to quality for the generational jump.
This is America’s 6th-gen fighter, with much derided canards shrouded in mist, like it was too embarrassing to reveal. Boeing won the contract to manufacture the F-47 sans competition. So far, it only exists as a PowerPoint slide, with an airy pronouncement that it will become operational between 2025–2029.
I will believe what I see.
It’s been nothing but hot air. It may end up being a shrink of the F-22, just like the B-21 downsizing of the B-2.
As for 7th gen, let’s define the 6th-gen first.
The Chinese have the lead now.
Is China’s purchase of soybeans from the US necessary now that they have their own production? Or was it a strategic decision to make a statement?
Native Chinese soybeans are oval in shape with a white line in the middle of the germ, high in protein and low in oil, and are the raw material for soy products such as tofu.
Soybeans imported from the United States are round, have no or very light-coloured germ and can contain up to 24 per cent oil. Soybean meal from the oil is usually used as animal feed. China’s soybean imports from the United States are mainly used to feed livestock, not for human consumption.
After China banned US soybeans, it could import soybeans from Brazil, Argentina and other countries.
If you want to make tofu, tofu made with domestic soybeans tastes better and the flavor is very different.
China is the country that invented tofu. Chinese people are very sensitive to the taste of tofu and can taste the subtle differences between different ingredients.
If unscrupulous merchants use imported soybeans to make tofu, Chinese people will not buy it again after eating it, and the brand of this company will be ruined.
What Falls
Written in response to: “Start or end your story with someone standing in the rain.“
Jae Po
On the other hand, even if I had, she pondered, would it have made any difference? Clearly, I was already really enjoying myself then, so nope, probably not. And I definitely wouldn’t have been able to change anything…
“Here you go,” said her last customer as he unknowingly interrupted her thoughts and handed her seven dollars.
Tricia’s eyes widened, her face overcome with joy. The man was taken aback, considering the tip he’d given her, but he also was appreciative that she seemed so appreciative. And she was.
“So, did you crack the big threshold tonight?” Jessica asked Tricia as she was closing out the register later that night.
“Yes! I did!! Thanks to the cheap older gentleman towards the end of my shift. He gave a $7 tip on a $125 total, but I don’t even care. I could’ve kissed him!! I was so psyched.”
Jessica laughed. “Wow, $7? ‘Cheap’ is right. He knows he was wrong for that!”
“Hey, it might as well have been $7,000. It puts me right where I need to be.”
Jessica smiled. “Well, that’s good. I’m really happy for you, Trish. You deserve it.”
Tricia returned the smile. “Thank you, Jess. I’m so excited.”
“So! When are you going?!? I’m surprised you haven’t already left!”
“Ha ha, I wish. I have to close out tonight, and remember, I’ll still need this job when I get back. But you better believe, I’m packing my bags as soon as I get home and hitting the road first thing in the morning!!”
Jessica chuckled. “That’s wonderful. You’ll have to tell me all about it. I’ve heard really great things but have yet to be able to afford it, myself.” She paused for a moment as she tilted her head in thought. “I actually think you might be the first person I know who has done it, so be sure to take lots of pictures, and don’t leave out any of the details when you get back!!”
The dry heat smacked Tricia in the face so hard as she left the building, it felt like an assault. Having been so excited to end her shift and get home, she suddenly realized she’d forgotten to take off her clothes before coming outside.
She looked around, placed her tote bag on the nearby curb, pulled off her shirt, and stepped out of her pants, making her shoulders, chest, stomach, back, and legs the next wretched victims of the heat’s violence.
Still. Better, she thought.
Barely better, but better.
She surveyed her surroundings again before picking up her bag. She wasn’t worried about anyone harassing her as she walked as an older woman at 2 in the morning in just her bra and panties—it was a scene much more common than seeing someone more traditionally clothed—she just didn’t want to risk anyone swiping her bag with her precious accumulated prized earnings of the night. Her tips, including those precious final seven singles.
She needed those seven singles.
After making it to her car safely, she read the temperature on the dashboard: 108°F. Tricia exhaled in exasperation and then turned on her headlights to illuminate the road ahead.
That next morning, she almost tripped darting out of bed. After a quick shower, she put on her comfy bra, underwear, flip-flops, and black shades, and slathered on her 50 SPF sunscreen lotion. With her packed suitcase and big thermos full of ice cubes, she raced out the front door.
As she sat the suitcase alongside the several cases of water—mostly her monthly allotment from the government—in her trunk, she thought again about how much she wished she could afford tint on her windows. It was a luxury only the wealthy could afford. She would have to save up many more years, sacrificing other luxuries such as this trip, to even come close.
She grabbed one of the water bottles, and then set out on the 15-hour-long drive, figuring she would split it up over two days. Soaking her handkerchief with the dew quickly accumulating on her forehead, Tricia took a sip of water and read the dashboard temperature: 112° F.
The ice cube she pulled from her thermos practically disappeared as soon as it hit her skin. Its remnants drizzled down her brow, barely grazing her nose before it plopped onto her bra. That drop was joined by what little was left of the cube, as she slowly rubbed it on her neck and chest, letting the rest melt entirely.
“I know we’ve been suffering a bit out here, folks,” said the radio meteorologist. “…With the highs in the 130s the last few weeks, but fret not, reprieve is coming! You might be able to cover up a bit more than usual, as we can soon expect single digits! And maybe even as low as 98!! Starting just next week.”
“Ah, thank God,” Trish exhaled and dapped her forehead again.
Trying to keep her eye on the road as much as possible, her mind couldn’t help but drift off to where it had been tens of thousands of times before—imagining what it will be like, for the first time in all those years. She could see it, feel it, smell it, even taste it.
It was a few hours before she took another sip of water, always trying to ration what she had, not knowing when she’d get more. She eyed the dashboard which now read123°F. What little breeze had helped her save gas for the first part of the trip had gone completely. She finally rolled up the windows and turned on the air conditioner.
Two days later, Tricia car pulled into the parking lot of the building which displayed giant blue letters:
The Oasis: An Interactive Experience Museum.
She couldn’t believe it. After so many years and so many sacrifices—financial and otherwise—she was finally here.
After dragging her suitcase out of the trunk and towards the building, she soon encountered a smaller sign, in black letters, which read: Please do not bring any bags or luggage inside. Dress as needed before you enter.
Before you enter?!? she thought. That can’t be right. What are they trying to do, roast us?! That should be illegal.
Still, she hurried back to her car, pulled from her suitcase the single shirt and pair of pants she’d brought, and put them on. Then she began excitedly sifting through to find the most important items—those which she’d ordered months ago and had been resting comfortably in her suitcase mostly since.
And there it was. The pretty, pink raincoat with white and yellow polkadots throughout that she had tried on and paraded in front of her bathroom mirror like a little girl in her mommy’s dress clothes nearly every day since it arrived.
Nestled under it were her also-“new” matching rain boots—additionally gently broken-in, thanks to her personal at-home fashion shows.
She stepped in them after kicking off her flip flops but waited to get inside before she put on the coat. She reasoned, no need to die of heat exhaustion just a few feet and minutes away from fulfilling one of her dreams!
Last to grab was her adorable new umbrella. She already had a black one but thought she would treat herself for the occasion. Although she’d seen an umbrella that matched her coat and boots, she’d decided to go a little different for it and instead ordered one that was light-blue and featured “raining” cats and dogs. She’d thought that was so cute.
And now, she was ready. She left the luggage in her car and headed back to the building.
After she was checked in at the front desk, signs led her to the exhibit she had come and paid all of her savings for. On her way, she couldn’t help but notice another standout exhibit that had an incredibly long line of people waiting to get in—even longer than the one she was headed towards. The door that led into it featured a big picture with countless little white balls. She felt a mixture of excitement and sadness as she thought to herself, I’ll have to save up another five years, maybe more, for that one.
Finally, she arrived to her long-awaited exhibit. It didn’t take long for her long line to be ushered by their tour guide into the door with the picture of countless diagonal blue slits.
As they entered, the guide gave Tricia and the other visitors a pair of special glasses. “Put these on,” he said, “And I’ll give you further direction once we get inside. Remember to keep them on to remain in The Experience.”
Tricia put her glasses on and walked through the door, and suddenly, it suddenly was as if she was in the living room of someone’s nicely decorated home. The fireplace roared on one wall. She could almost feel the heat.
And then she turned to her right. And there it was.
She slowly walked towards the open window, taking in the scene as she stepped. Slits of water shot down in a slightly diagonal direction and soaked everything it touched: the concrete and grass below, the trunks and leaves of the trees, the flowers, the bench on the left side, and some colorful playground equipment in the distant right. A jogger running by, seemingly unfazed by the onslaught, while a group of kids jumped around in a big puddle, the mud splashing on their clothes and laughter echoing from them. The occasional car drove by on the road nearby—the water falling and sliding down on each side. Two black, plastic bars swung back and forth on the front window, furiously pushing the water to each side and clearing the driver’s view.
Tricia tried to remember what those things were called. ‘Scrapers,’ I think? ‘Scrapers’ or …’scrubbers’? ‘Rubbers’? ’Swipers’? Oh, wait! That was it. ‘Wipers.” They were called ‘wipers.’ Windshield wipers.
Tricia could hardly contain herself as she approached the home’s front door. She opened it and took in the outdoor scene once more, bracing herself for what she was about to feel. And then, she stepped forward.
Pitter patter, pitter patter, pitter patter sounded off on her raincoat.
Splashes on her legs as she stepped with her boots, which suddenly felt slightly heavier than before to lift.
“Welcome to The Rain Experience,” said the guide. “Up until a little less than three-quarters of a century ago, this was what it felt like when enough precipitation would build up above. It would rain. We would go outside, and water would literally fall from the sky… Just as you’re seeing and feeling now.”
“You’re welcome to keep your raincoats on and use your umbrellas, or you can ditch them both for the full wet experience,” he grinned enthusiastically. “I’ll share some information and history about rain, and I’m happy to take pictures of you at key locations throughout the tour—walking down the sidewalk, sitting in the park, standing next to a building or statue or a car—whatever you want. There will be lots of opportunities!”
Tricia continued walking slowly, nearly pinching herself to confirm this was reality as she listened.
“You can continue to use your earphones to tune into my commentary or mute or remove them as you’d like to more fully immerse yourself into The Experience,” the guide went on. “It’s up to you. Some people come on separate days — once, to hear the full narration, and the other for the non-audio, immersion experience. Of course, an additional visit will require a separate ticket,” he chuckled briefly. “But if you’re able to swing that, it is highly recommended. Otherwise, you may want to split the time accordingly during your visit today. Make it count!”
Tricia kept her earphones in for the moment.
“Back in the days of rain, it sometimes would be on the lighter side, which is what you’re feeling now, to help you to get used to it. They would call it ‘drizzle’ or ‘light showers.’ Other times, it would be a lot more—something they would call a ‘downpour.’ Hang tight and have your umbrellas ready, as we’ll give you a sense of that shortly.”
The tour guide continued, “If it got cold enough in the sky, instead of rain, you’d get snow, which you probably saw the exhibit for on your way in. Cool stuff! You should check it out some time if you haven’t.”
“But back to rain… Back in those days, they sometimes would even have these things called thunderstorms and hurricanes, where certain conditions would make rain powerful and even deadly. You’d see electricity, called ‘lightning,’ in the sky, or the rain would team up with wind and knock down trees and power lines! Those were the hurricanes. Those would get so bad that they could, and would, take out whole towns!”
Tricia’s and the other visitors’ eyes and mouths widened.
“Yeah, I know, right?” the guide continued. “Those hurricanes actually were the last of what we experienced before…getting to where we are now. For centuries, they were pretty infrequent — less than 50 around the world per year. But in the decades leading up to the endless drought, that number had soared to an average of 250 a year! It got to be where there was a different hurricane somewhere around the world each week—some places, each couple of days! And each year, they became more intense than the last. At the same time, more water sources were drying up at rapid speeds. As quickly as the hurricanes were picking up, those sources drying happened even more quickly, which soon thankfully put an end to the hurricanes entirely. No more hurricanes! But not so thankfully, it also meant less and less rain, until it stopped raining completely. And, well, you know the rest. We now have very limited water sources around the world and have largely had to manufacture most of the water you drink, use for cooking, bathing, and so on. But! Unfortunately, one thing they have yet to figure out how to manufacture…is any water-related weather. And hence the founding of The Oasis and what we’ve brought to you here today and have amazed the world with the past 25 years!”
She removed the ear pieces and put them in her pocket. She wanted to enjoy some of the experience of it by itself. But still couldn’t get away from the interruptions entirely.
“Did you ever experience the real thing, Mr.?” a little girl visiting with her parents asked nearby.
The tour guide laughed. “No, I’m only 24. That was way before my time.”
“Oh,” she said.
“But my grandparents experienced it… when they were younger.”
“Yeah, my parents did, too,” the little girl’s mother said.
“Really?” beamed the young girl. “Pa and Nana were alive for real rain?”
Her mother nodded, smiling.
“What did they say it was like?”
“Well, probably just like this. We get to feel what they did back then.”
Tricia looked up towards the virtual rainy sun and tried to tune out the voices around her as the falling water soaked her. Even knowing it wasn’t real, she’d never seen a sun so beautiful. It looked different behind a watery haze. She closed her eyes and let her mind take her back to the lens of her 6-year-old self running and giggling around her family’s yard. Except, this time, instead of just seeing it in her mind, she was able to feel it. Her lips stretched further than they ever had.
Even though she was soaked, Tricia felt a sort of warmth. And not the kind of sweltering “warmth” she and the rest of the world had long been plagued with outside. It was a comforting warmth. A peace. And her heart decided this was the last thing she’d ever want to feel.
Tricia stood for there for a few more minutes, enjoying the downpour as it drenched her from hair to heel.
As the fall slowed, so did her body, until it became limp.
The tour guide and other visitors rushed to her. “Somebody call an ambulance!” were the last words her ears captured. Beyond them, just ahead, her narrowing eyes landed on the much-raved-about display set to conclude The Experience, an arc spectrum of all the colors.
Chicken Spaghetti
Ingredients
- 1 medium onion, chopped
- 1 medium bell pepper, chopped
- 3 tablespoons butter
- 1 roasted deli chicken, deboned and diced
- 1 (10 3/4 ounce) can cream of mushroom soup
- 1 (10 3/4 ounce) can cream of celery soup
- 1 (2 ounce) jar pimiento, drained
- 1 (2 1/2 ounce) jar sliced mushrooms, drained
- 1/2 (6 ounce) can black pitted olives, drained and chopped
- 1 (16 ounce) package long spaghetti, cooked
- 1 teaspoon salt
- 1/2 teaspoon pepper
- 1 cup grated Cheddar cheese
Instructions
- Heat the oven to 375 degrees F.
- Sauté onion and bell pepper in butter.
- Add the soups, pimientos, mushrooms, chicken, olives and spaghetti.
- Season with the seasonings.
- Put the mixture into a large casserole dish.
- Top with Cheddar cheese.
- Bake for 45 minutes, or until cheese is melted.
Could China be kicked out of the SWIFT system? If so, how would it impact China’s economic growth?
The US likes to hang the threat of removing them from SWIFT as a strong arm tactic.
In every country when you open a bank account, they ask you if you are an American citizen and/or hold a US passport. Even banks in China! The long arm jurisdiction of Uncle Sam who wants your taxes.
If countries do not comply, they are threatened with being removed from the SWIFT system.
In reality it would be an even bigger loss for the US if they took away the SWIFT from any country.
China made a deal with Saudi Arabia to pay in Chinese currency RMB instead of the Petro dollar (US backed system) and there was a lot of screaming!!
What are some historical events that are unknown to most people?
Most people know who Annie Oakley was but did you know that at one time she sued 55 newspapers for libel and won almost all the court cases?
Annie Oakley
Annie Oakley was born in 1860 and grew up in a very impoverished family when her father died and her mother found it hard to provide for Annie and her five siblings.
Consequently Annie learned how to shoot a rifle at a very young age. She had learned how to shoot and hunt by the age of eight. She sold her hunted game to support her mom and her siblings.
As the years went on, Oakley became better and better at shooting. At age 15, Annie won a local shooting contest against an experienced marksman named Frank E. Butler. Butler was incredibly impressed and the two eventually marrried. They then toured the country as a marksmanship act.
Annie Oakley shooting
Eventually Oakley gained the attention of Buffalo Bill and joined his widely successful show Buffalo Bill’s Wild West show in 1885. Annie became the star attraction and was nationally known and became incredibly successful and famous.
Oakley was one of the greatest marksman of all time and was a great showman but in her private life she was proper and demure. She was a proper Victorian lady and preferred to be called Mrs. Frank Butler or Annie Butler in her private life.
Oakley sewed her own costumes but even when performing she only showed her ankles and some of her lower leg, yet she was modest by show business standards.
In 1903, Annie took a break from Buffalo Bill’s Wild West show and was living the quiet married life in New Jersey. She was also planning her future after receiving a role in the play Western Girl.
Little did Oakley know that later that year she would begin to do battle against one of the most powerful men in the world, William Randloph Hearst. In August of 1903, two of Hearst’s Chicago newspapers ran a story that Annie Oakley had been arrested for theft because of a cocaine habit. The article read, “Famous Woman Crack Shot … Steals to Secure Cocaine.”
Hearst’s newspaper article
This story was completely false and a burlesque dancer who went by the name Any Oakley had been arrested for theft in Chicago. Hearst’s article falsely claimed that Annie Oakley was a drug addict and thief who looked 40 but was actually 28.
William Randolph Hearst
Hearst and his editors ignored the fact that the arrested was not Annie Oakley and ran the story anyway. The article was picked up my a number of other newspapers and was published around the country.
Oakley who was in fact 43 at the time was absolutely furious. She said:
“The terrible piece…nearly killed me. The only thing that kept me alive was the desire to purge my character.”
Oakley vowed to clear her name at any cost. Oakley started by announcing that the Chicago woman (whose real name was Maude Fontenella) was not her and that the whole story was utterly untrue. Many newspapers published retractions immediately.
Annie Oakley
Hearst’s papers did not post a retraction and doubled down on the story. Hearst even sent investigators to her native state of Ohio to try to dig up dirt on Oakley. They found nothing.
In response, Annie sued 55 different newspapers for libel and crisscrossed the country to take the stand on her own behalf. The attorneys for the newspapers tried to use her show business career against her and accused her of bringing the lawsuits only for their publicity value and of immodest performances on stage.
Oakley did not break under cross examination and from all accounts defended her own character magnificently. Her first lawsuit was filed in 1904 and the final case was settled in 1910.
Out of the 55 libel suits, Oakley won or settled 54 of them. The one case she lost, the court decided that there was no harm to her reputation because anyone who knew Oakley wouldn’t believe the salacious story.
She was awarded $27,000 from Hearst’s newspapers and won $800,000 from the rest of them. Even though she won all the cases except for one, Oakley actually lost some money defending herself. But Annie didn’t care because clearing her name was worth the price.
Oakley continued to tour the country, showing the world, her incredible marksmanship skills. Annie was an incredible woman who rose out of poverty and defeated one of the most powerful men in a court of law.
I hope that clears up any confusion!
I 💖C2, questions, disagreements, curses and hexes!
Victor Gao: Something BIG Is About to Hit America…
Victor really explains this quite clearly.
China, Germany, Italy Tell Citizens “Leave Iran Immediately”
Very late last night, eastern US Time, the People’s Republic of China told all of its citizens who may be presently inside Iran to “leave Iran as soon as possible” amid US strike.
Yesterday (Thursday) afternoon, Italy announced it had reduced its Embassy Staffing and told its citizens they should “Leave Iran.”
But the real eye-opener was Germany. Germany told its citizens who may be inside Iran for business or personal reasons to “Leave Iran immediately, within the next few hours.”
Austria’s chancellor has abruptly canceled a planned visit to Israel that was scheduled for this coming Monday.
On Thursday afternoon, the United States quietly sent two B-52 Stratofortress aircraft from Barksdale Air Force Base out to Guam. It is thought their next stop will be Diego Garcia in the Indian Ocean, only about 2500 miles from Iran.
This morning (Friday), two more B-52’s were also reportedly sent toward Diego Garcia along with refueling tankers.
Also, at about 4:00 AM Eastern US time this morning, Tanker Aircraft flying with a slew of E-18 “Growlers” out of a base on Moron, Spain, took-off for the Middle East. The U.S. military build-up is now astonishing.
“IRAN THREATENS TO SHUT DOWN STRAIT OF HORMUZ”
Iran has intensified its long-standing threats to close the Strait of Hormuz, a vital maritime chokepoint through which approximately 20% of the world’s oil and 25% of seaborne oil trade passes.
Iran issued a Notice to Mariners yesterday, cautioning about forthcoming live-fire naval exercises in the Strait of Hormuz. These drills are planned for Sunday and Monday.
In the event of a war between the U.S. and Iran, Iran is expected to mine the strait, consequently preventing all vessels from passing. What we are seeing now are preparations for that scenario.
Today, Chinese Navy Destroyers moved toward Iranian waters, as shown in the image atop this story. Several heavy destroyers of the Type 055 and Type 052D belonging to the Chinese military have been dispatched from the Hainan base toward Iranian waters.
Iran, Russia, and China will conduct joint military exercises on Sunday near the Strait of Hormuz. China is determined to protect Iran because China buys most of its oil from Iran.
Iran’s Imam Khamenei has ordered the armed forces to respond to American military actions and buildup with a massive response, stressing that there will be no negotiations, no compromise, and no simplification of the confrontation.
Lastly, of particular importance to me personally, living here in the metro New York City area, is this:
Today 4 a.m. that I destried something. Maybe few people will know about it. Or maybe it’s fake, wasted my sleeping time.