Today, I want to talk about clocks.
As the oldest son of my father, when his father died… my grandfather willed to me his fancy mantle clock. This was a beautiful bronze statue of a reclining woman Baroque style next to a very ornate clock. I got it when I was 11 years old, and my father decided to make it the “family clock” by placing it on our living room mantle. Telling me, of course, that when I get older and married I can put that clock into my own house for my old children to inherit.
When my paternal grandmother died, I was willed her cuckoo clock. She picked it up when she was traveling from Poland when she was 16 years old, and it represented her new life as a woman. She wanted me to have it as I was, at that time, just getting started off in life.
My mother bought a huge grandfather clock. And up to when she died, and in her will, that clock was to be mien and to be passed on to my children. She was adamant on this, and really wanted this grandfather clock to develop a legacy.
So what actually happened?
Well, my mother died and there was a battle for her estate. I tried to prevent the looting by my siblings, but I ended up in jail and couldn’t do anything.
My brother took the mantle clock apologetically. And my father was there when he took it, and he looked at me bewildered and said “Hey! That’s your clock. What’s going on?” And, my brother said “no it isn’t. I was mom’s and it sat in her living room for decades. And so now it’s mine.” And my crestfallen father was aghast in how bellicose and direct he was.
My cousin took the cuckoo clock, and when I asked her to return it, she said that she had already sold it on ebay. And that there was nothing that I could do.
My youngest sister and her husband carted off the grandfather clock and they too sold it off. And they offered no explanation, no excuse and no justification. It was “it’s mine now”.
And that is what happened to my family legacy though the clocks of time.
Today…
What are some bad experiences you had while traveling to another country?
Oh boy…I travelled to Mexico City in Nov 2017 and I committed a mistake of asking direction from the police Officer at the airport. I didn’t know Spanish and the officer didn’t know English. He asked for my passport and then called another officer. They discussed something in Spanish and after wasting a good amount of 15 minutes instructed me to follow them. They took me to the washroom. I thought there must be a secret door to their office but to my disappointment it was just a toilet. The police officer instructed me to OPEN.
I asked, OPEN what?? A first thought came to my mind that he is asking me to open my pants but thank God he clarified that he wanted me to open my bag. He started checking my bag and somehow found the 1200 USD that my office paid for the official work.
He started asking for money in Spanish. Though I understood it the first time but still I tried to remain ignorant. For the next 10 minutes, I was only saying ‘No Spanish’ and he was trying to make me understand like a monkey that he wants money. All this shit was happening inside a toilet. Then I gave up.
I asked how much.He said $100 for each officer. I came in Indian mode and started bargaining. I started acting like a hungry person so that he gets frustrated and leaves me but man..he was adamant. Finally, I bring him down to $20 each. I paid the extortion money and ran as fast as I could.
The only lesson I learnt is that this symbol is common irrespective of the language, colour, race or country.
People are Maxed Out …. Inflation Nation
“The trend of the world is surging forward.
Those who follow the trend will prosper; those who go against it will perish.
China’s national reunification is the overwhelming and irresistible trend of history.
‘Taiwan independence’ means war, and division brings no peace.
Shouldering the sacred mission of safeguarding national sovereignty and territorial integrity, the Chinese PLA is fully prepared and stays highly vigilant.
We will take resolute actions to smash any ‘Taiwan independence’ separatist attempts and thwart any foreign interference.”
Excerpt from remarks by Chinese Defense Ministry spokesperson Senior Colonel Wu Qian at the Regular Press Conference, May 30, 2024.
Isn’t re-electing Biden kind of like the Titanic backing up into the iceberg again?
You know, as a non-American, I find it pretty morbidly fascinating how the Republicans shamelessly attack Biden and the Democrats with exactly the kinds of things they are the most guilty of themselves.
It’s incredibly cringe- like watching a morbidly obese person on a mobility scooter riding around attacking mildly overewight people for being “fat”. There’s nothing funny about watching that level of poor self-awareness.
I continuously hear Trump call Biden “crooked Joe Biden” when it is he, and not Biden, who is the first former president to be charged with a bucket of crimes.
He calls Biden “Sleepy Joe” when he can’t keep his own eyes open during his own trial.
He says Biden is senile and incapable of coherent speech when he was the one sent to take a cognitive assessment and his own speeches are borderline gibberish formed of rambling digressions set in the vocabulary of a slow 5th grader.
He calls the Democrats “extremists” when he is the one who incited an insurrection.
He calls Biden “the worst president in history” when, by any reasonable yardstick, Trump is the worst, most incomptent, mentally-unstable leader since Idi Amin Dada.
He accuses the Democrats of ruining America’s reputation in the world and turning the country into a joke, while the world remembers him making a fool of himself at the UN, making puppy-dog eyes at Kim Jong-Un (who he still can’t resist praising) and stuffing himself into the worst tailored tux seen since Laurel and Hardy parodied a night at the opera, to meet, and disgust, the late Queen Elizabeth II.
Honestly, everything the Republicans say is a poorly-disguised self-own. Almost nothing they accuse the other side of is not an outrageous “tu quoque” at themselves!
People laugh but I find this level of mass delusion genuinely alarming.
“NATO is cooking up something big” and Putin is ready for all out war | Redacted News
OMG!
What was the most illegal thing you have ever done on a computer?
Originally Answered: What is the most illegal thing you have ever done with your computer?
As a kid, I liked to hack. Not for doing damage or stealing, but to play on big computers.
There was a lawyer’s office in the town center – a big chain. And walking past one evening, I saw a modem with a rotary phone on top. In the U.K. it was common to have the phone number of the phone written on a piece of paper in the center of the dial.
Heart racing, I climbed through the plants outside the window to get a better look. I wrote down the number.
I got home, and dialed it.
It rang, and rang. No answer.
So they called out on it.
Next day I called their head office, and asked the receptionist if Mike was still in charge of the I.T. department.
“No, Sir. I have never heard of a “Mike””
“My memory! Shameful! So, what is his name?”
“Why, it’s Peter; I can connect you.”
“No need, I had the wrong guy, the wrong office maybe. Thank you for your time”.
I called the modem number again, only this was also during office hours.
“Err, hello?” Said a surprised worker as he answered the phone that never rang.
“Hi, this is Peter at head office. What the hell is going on there?”
“Err, what?”
“Every time you log in today, you delete 4 files. Some are files not even assigned to your branch.”
“Errr, what??”
“*Sigh* ok, let’s get you out of trouble. When did you log in last?”
“Oh, ok, thanks. Err, about an hour ago”
“Right, what number did you dial in on?”
“Err, the usual one”
“Obviously, but there are 6 “usual” numbers. I am getting you out of trouble, can’t you save me from having to look that up?”
“Oh, right, sorry, errr 555-555-5555”
“Perfect. And your username is?”
“James.Smith”
“That’s great, what password are you using?”
“Err, we are not meant to give that out”
“I know, that’s why I called on this number. I can fax the request, you can fax the answer, and I will have to report that you slowed down my work at the partner’s meeting I have to be at in 3 minutes. James, I am just trying to help you out here, save me some paper work, oil the wheels…”
“Ohh. Gotcha. Thank you. It’s ‘some-password'”
“Thanks, right, I gotta go fix it”.
That night, after playing with the system, I left it printing “your security needs serious attention.”.
It would have printed until out of paper.
There were others, but I enjoyed that one, the simple pleasures 🙂
At that time, my actions were not criminal. Today, the same thing would be illegal.
Stout-Braised Corned Beef Tacos
with Fiery Cabbage Slaw
A great Mexican twist to corned beef is an excellent choice for Saint Patrick’s Day if you are looking for something new and unusual to serve. In addition to the regular instructions for a slow cooker, directions are also given for making this in an Instant Pot.
Yield: 10 servings
Ingredients
Tacos
- 1 boneless corned beef brisket, trimmed (3 pounds)
- 1 cup onion, chopped
- 1 cup carrot, chopped
- 1 cup celery, chopped
- 4 cloves garlic, chopped
- 1 cup beef broth
- 1/4 cup tomato paste
- 1/4 cup brown sugar
- 1/2 teaspoon coarse ground black pepper
- 1 (11.2 ounce) bottle Texas stout beer
- 16 to 20 small (6 inch) corn tortillas, warmed
- Fresh cilantro and jalapeño pepper, chopped
Fiery Cabbage Slaw
- 3 tablespoons mayonnaise
- 1 tablespoon cider vinegar
- 1 teaspoon red pepper sauce
- 1/2 teaspoon granulated sugar
- 1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
- 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
- 3 cups finely shredded cabbage
- 1/2 cup grated carrots
- 2 green onions, thinly sliced on the diagonal
Instructions
- Rub corned beef brisket with package of pickling seasonings.
- Place onion, carrot, celery, garlic, beef broth, tomato paste, brown sugar and black pepper in a 4-1/2 to 5-1/2-quart slow cooker. Stir to combine.
- Place Corned Beef, fat side up, on top of the vegetable mixture. Pour stout beer over brisket. Cover and cook on HIGH for 6 TO 7 hours or on LOW for 9 to 10 hours or until brisket is fork tender.
- Remove corned beef and place on a cutting board, spooning a bit of the liquid over the top. Carve brisket into thin slices across the grain.
- To make slaw, whisk together mayonnaise, vinegar, red pepper sauce, sugar, salt and pepper in a large bowl. Add cabbage, carrot and green onions. Toss gently to combine.
- Serve with beef in tortillas with Fiery Slaw. Garnish with toppings, as desired.
Pressure Cooker/Instant Pot
- Rub Corned Beef Brisket with package of pickling seasonings.
- Combine onion, carrot, celery, garlic, beef broth, tomato paste, brown sugar, and black pepper in the insert of the pressure cooker. Stir to combine.
- Place Corned Beef, fat side up, on top of the vegetable mixture. Pour stout beer over brisket.
- Seal lid and set unit to HIGH pressure for 90 minutes. Let pressure release naturally for 20 minutes, then manually release remaining pressure.
- Remove corned beef and place on a cutting board, spooning a bit of the liquid over the top. Carve brisket into thin slices across the grain.
- To make slaw, whisk together mayonnaise, vinegar, red pepper sauce, sugar, salt and pepper in a large bowl. Add cabbage, carrot and green onions. Toss gently to combine.
- Serve beef in tortillas with Fiery Slaw. Garnish with toppings, as desired.
Nutrition
Per serving: Calories 420; Total fat 24 g (Sat. fat 7g; Trans fat 0g); Cholest. 75mg; Sodium 1870mg; Total Carb. 24g; Fiber 2g; Total Sugars 9g; Protein 22g; Vit D (0% DV); Calcium (2% DV); Iron (15% DV); Potas. (10% DV)
Do you think the decline in shares of Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Corp. is a temporary setback or a long-term trend?
This is the market warning TSMC about its long term prospects.
TSMC’ s casting its lot to decouple from China by abiding to all U.S. sanctions, committing $65 billion in three greenfield leading-edge fabs in Arizona to manufacture the most advanced chips in the U.S. and setting up new fabs in the E.U. and Japan.
These certainly look like they’re leaving the China market for SMIC to fill. And the market sees the SMIC is catching up. They’re now making 5-nm chips without the EUV machines.
Now even for an idiot, this is the question that TSMC must be pondering: Where the SHIT are they going to sell the chips their fabs in the U.S., E.U. and Japan will be making?
TSMC must know China is the market. And they’re making do with other technologies as Huawei is without the “advanced chips”.
And China is making fast progress at becoming self-sufficient in chips by building out the ecosystem for its own chip manufacturing infrastructure and experimenting new technologies. And if this were to play out, it is very likely that TSMC and ASML will be left out in the cold.
The market can see as a possible fate for these two titans of the chip industryi.
ASML is trying to hang on with its remaining business in China. The most telling how important China is despite the sanction going on its second year, China is still more important than all its other markets combined. The video is about their government now pushing back at U.S. pressure.
But this may be too late if China develops it own technologies and alternative to the ASML machines.
And lastly, it’s TSMC that is the most vulnerable. Yes, they’re the Numero uno and rule the industry but consider this – Apple accounted for $17.52 billion or 25% of TSMC’s total revenue in 2023. This company losing just one client automatically put it in the red in the industry where you’re as good as your last chip. And TSMC has now being all its egg with the U.S.!
Jeffrey Sachs: NATO In ‘Wartime Hallucination’ Mode! The Most TERRIBLE Offensive Is About To Happen
Why do hijras (eunuchs) look so scary and frighten even the bravest men?
I was in Kolkata when a terrified tamilian friend of my wife called to say a group of Hijras were outside their flat demanding money to bless their new born baby
I was the only man and was sent out to confront them
I had never felt more frightened in my life
There were 5–6 of them standing and demanding to bless the new born baby, sing and dance and get some money
Then I decided to talk to them
I didn’t know bengali that well so I asked them in Hindi what they wanted and they said they wanted to bless the baby and sing and dance and get money
I asked “How much money”
They said “500 Bucks”
This was 1994 and 500 Bucks wasn’t a small sum
I said “50” and expected a lot of yelling and shouting. Instead they asked how I could be so mean and how tough their life was
Suddenly it was a TN Traffic cop situation where a ₹50/- demand soon became a ₹5/- for a cup of tea (Old days, the 1990s)
We went back and forth and finally negotiated for ₹100/- and I stuck to ₹100/- and finally paid them from my own pocket to leave without any dance or song
I never got my money back
That lady thanked me and said she would pay me back but I never got the money back
Forget they are Hijras
Just talk to them like they are people and trust me it works
You get intimidated by the appearance and the voice and the social embarrassment but if you can stick to your guns, they are just people
Today in Bangalore, near Jayadeva Hospital road, suddenly they came and begged for money and before I could say no, my wife pushed a 20 into the hand of the Hijra to get rid of the embarrassment
Instead you could politely say “No”
You would have if this was a normal beggar
Just look at them as normal human beings and forget the clothes and the voices
Suddenly it feels pretty normal
Join us on our journey
What is the craziest thing you have ever said to your boss, with or without getting fired?
I have only been fired once. It was the worst job I have ever had. My father owned a car dealership, he told me that if I ever wanted to work for him, I had to learn the business somewhere else before I could come work for him. I had just graduated with an English degree and found a job selling cars.
All car salesman do not deserve the negative stigma that comes with the occupation, but there are many that do deserve the scorn. It is a complicated business. Pay is based on sales commissions. If you do not sell a car, you are given a weekly stipend that will be deducted from your commission when you finally do sell a car.
My first four months were great. I sold 8, 10, 12, 16 cars. Then my fifth month I sold 12 again. My boss made some comment about me slipping. The next month I sold 14, he still made comments about my not selling up to standards expected. There was a board with a list of all the salesman and the number of cars they had out in the Breakroom. Looking at the list, I was in the middle.
It was frustrating to have a boss giving me a hard time when it seemed he allowed others to perform at a lower level. When I came close to making a deal, the boss would refuse any negotiation offers from my customers. I was either selling cars at full price, or not at all. He was not helping me sell the car. My next month was the worst ever. We were three weeks in and I had sold only five cars.
The third Saturday of the month was a do or die day for me to make a sale and salvage my month. Saturdays are generally the best day in car sales. Even the worst salesman can sell a car on Saturday. This particular Saturday, I planned to sell two or three cars.
After our morning sales meeting, my boss said to me, “Can you come by my office?”
I followed him in and sat down across from him. He began by telling me how I started strong but had fallen off on my sales the past couple months. He complained about my efforts and said I could sell a lot more and that he expected more from me considering that my Dad owned a dealership and I grew up around the business.
“You have to sell a car by the end of the day today or you are fired” he said. “I promise you! Don’t take that as a mere threat.”
“You had better hope I sell a car then,” I said.
“Why should I care if YOU sell a car?” He asked incredulously. “You are the one who will be without a job.”
“Because if you make me work my whole Saturday and fire me at the end of the day I am going to beat the shit out of you,” I said. “… and don’t take that as a mere threat.”
“That’s it you’re fired!” He said. “Get out of here.”
China Sanctions US Defense Companies!
What should you do when people are rude to you in public?
Yesterday, I parked my car near the temple on the street. I got down of the car and washed my hands with the water I brought from home.
This lead to spilling some water on the road.
Suddenly, a guy arrived on his scooty and stood ahead of me.
He started using cuss words and said, ‘you idiot, that is my house, in front of which you are washing your hands. Do you have any shame, next time you do this you will see what I do to you.’
He didn’t even let me speak and kept going on and on.
His house was across the road, a few metres away from where I stood. Also by the time he spoke, the water had already dried.
I felt like giving him a mouthful, but then I realised that what will I get in return, abuses? Physical altercation? Insult? And frustration for days?
He kept speaking, and I smiled and walked inside the temple. (I was wearing a mask so he couldn’t notice my smile)
He kept staring and speaking in a harsh tone while I calmly worshipped.
By the time I returned, he was gone.
It may appear cowardice I assure you it isn’t.
Why should I frustrate myself, create unnecessary discomfort and lose my peace for a stranger who doesn’t even have adequate manners?
Why should I become like him and lose my traits and wisdom?
Most importantly, why should I bother myself at all?
Earlier, I would have definitely hit that person or given him back his deeds with interest, but every time I did that, I ended up suffering in some way or the other. Also the impact of such fights stays for days. So I decided to deal with such people using a mature outlook, and I am happy with that.
Shorpy
Do you know anyone who has won a lottery? Did the money change them?
I do. It ruined his life.
This man lived in a rural area, and worked at the only truly large employer. Plenty of scattered mom and pop types, but this was a branch of a corporation. He loved his job.
He struck it for millions. Well, you have to identify yourself to claim it. It hit all the papers, even out to the city, where I lived.
When people realize you have won the lottery, people come out of the woodwork to try to get a piece of it. Every relative, no matter how distant, came calling, demanding with various levels of pleading to get some of the money. He didn’t think he should have to share it, so those relatives stopped speaking to him.
It’s not just relatives: neighbors, coworkers, “friends”, they’ll come around and aren’t subtle. He said no to them as well. They weren’t happy either.
You also get all kinds of crazies knocking at your door and calling your phone number. They got contacts from people pleading for money for their son’s kidney transplant or whatever. Lots of sob stories, lots of pleading, lots of insults.
Frightened by the attention and the chaos, his wife became overwhelmed and had a nervous breakdown. She would eventually divorce him.
The economy in his area turned. The corporation he worked at began layoffs. As he had been there forever, his seniority insulated him from worry about being cut, but it didn’t insulate him from bullying from his coworkers about how he was taking a job from someone who needed the money to feed their family or keep their home. He couldn’t take it eventually, and left his beloved job.
So, he won millions and lost everything else: his friends, his wife, and his job. He still lives in his old house, and every so often walks into town and buys everyone at the local diner breakfast.
I think he was better off before.
Chinese solution to drones
With the US and Britain proving unable to dislodge the Houthis from their strongholds or stop the militia from attacking Israeli-linked, American and British vessels in the Red and Arabian Seas, commercial shippers have increasingly eyed Russia’s Northern Sea Route as an attractive potential alternative, a leading mainstream US news magazine has reported.
“The surging costs and fear of getting hit by Houthi drones and missiles have led some shippers to consider the Arctic as an alternative, as melting ice begins opening new potential on the so-called Northern Sea Route,” Foreign Policy wrote.
The article ‘discovered’ what Russian officials and media have been saying for years – that the 5,600 km Northern Sea Route is the shortest maritime route between Europe and Asia, and can shave 8,000 km or more of distance, and 40-60 percent in time, off shipments, compared to traditional Europe-Asia routes through the presently troubled waters in the Middle East.
“The ability to slash some 5,000 miles off a ship’s journey would mean much faster travel times – a major plus in today’s world of online retail and next-day delivery,” FP said.
Unfortunately for the West, there’s a catch: 70 percent of the Arctic, including virtually the entire length of the Arctic portion of the route, passes through Russian waters. “Ships wanting to use the route must secure the Russians’ permission and pay them transit fees. Given current relations between many Western countries and Russia amid the Ukraine war, that poses an obvious challenge,” the magazine lamented.
I Bought Used SD Cards.. Here’s What I Found
When should a child move out of their parents’ house?
This reminds me of my older son. As a teenager he would say “I can’t wait till I am 18, so I will be free.” I asked him “Free to do what??” and he would say “Whatever I want to!” At that time, I told I “OK, on your 18th birthday, you will get eviction papers. On your 17th birthday, you will get luggage so you have a year to practice packing!” I had told a friend of this conversation, because as a parent, I knew it was a joke. Well, this friend owned a thrift store and gave me a suitcase to give to him. So on his 17th birthday, he came downstairs to see a huge navy blue suitcase sitting in the corner with a huge blue bow on it. The look on his face was priceless, as if to say “Really, Mom???” He didn’t know that all of his real gifts were inside.
Seriously, though, your child and life circumstances will dictate when they should move out. Can they afford to move out? Are they still in school? Do they have a job? Do they have the life skills? I don’t believe there should be a set time in their life where we say “OK, it’s time. Move out!”
My older son joined the Navy, and was in the Delayed Entry Program. He stayed with us until he left for Basic Training. He has been on his own since. My younger son (who asked where his luggage was on his 17th birthday) went the college route. He went away to college and when he graduated, he came back home. He was welcome here until her got on his feet. He stayed with us for about 5 years. He is now living with his fiancee and planning his wedding next year.
As every person is different, so is the time they should move out.
Badlands Homecoming
Submitted into Contest #251 in response to: Dream up a secret library. Write a story about an adventurer who discovers it. What’s in the library? Why was it kept secret?…
I have been thinking about including short science fiction stories with my daily posts. Please kindly tell me what you all think about this addition. MM
The badlands had ceased expanding, and there was just enough food to support one or two researchers—well, maybe only one—and that would be me.
The bishop had his hands full. A guard saw me into his office, and the bishop sat waiting behind a huge, salvaged desk between us.
The desk, a marvel, held my gaze. Its rich, brown hue was a testament to its unique origin, a strange wood with a veneer of such smoothness, partially burned away, creating a mesmerizing play of colors. I couldn’t help but wonder about the lives that were risked to retrieve such a treasure.
“You are?” he said, not looking up. Now, if it were up to me, I would fall on my knees and kiss his ecclesiastical ring, listen to his blessings, and wait for benediction. Such was my upbringing, which I had only known since…forever. To be in his presence was an honor granted to so few.
But I must answer him! Yet remembering my very name seemed an extraneous and worthless undertaking.
“Thomas Cranwell, to commoners excluded from knowing my ecclesial rank,” I said, finally.
“Why do you exclude yourself?” he asked again, without looking up from whatever was absorbing him. “Are you not to work for the extension of the Kingdom of God?”
“It is for an uncommon request. Permission to attend at Bradwell,” I practically whispered.
That got his attention. I am asking for something forbidden. To speak of Bradwell and the treasures of antiquity that it contained was to invite suspicion.
Myths, stories, and legends about the sacrifices made to build Bradwell many generations ago were a staple around campfires at night. After the cataclysm and before the new orientation, the building of Bradwell took place in a time so dark that our present darkness looked light by comparison. Yet I was convinced that understanding our past would help build our future!
I threw caution to the wind. Before I knew what I was doing, I was kneeling before him, seeking his hand to kiss his ring, even as I could not see that the guard had moved to strike me from behind.
“Stay your hand!” the bishop ordered. “What have we here? A search for knowledge at any cost?”
“Only a fool who seeks to serve, Your Excellency!” My tears were so copious that if I looked at him, I imagined he would send me off straight away. He laid his hand on my head.
“Thomas, I’ll inquire about your character. Send me your references and bid me a good day!”
#
I had to work while I waited. Luckily for me, I had learned a trade as a metal scavenger. It was considered a low occupation, but it was necessary since the metal that never rusts could no longer be made and was highly prized. However, my unusual request made people suspicious of me. Even the scraps I found in the well-combed hills and valleys surrounding Urhan fetched such low prices that I began to starve. Being without family and friends in any place was inviting death into your life. I hoped I would not have to wait long for the bishop to answer!
When news came that the bishop had approved my request, I now had a servant, David, a protection seal on paper, no less, and a stipend. The bishop’s generosity quite shocked me. Was he an antiquarian? Even if only in secret? I couldn’t account for my good fortune otherwise.
We hastened to start our journey. David was young—only sixteen—yet enthusiastic and uncommonly curious. When I told David we were off to Bradwell, he jumped for joy! I warned him to conserve his strength. It would be a long and challenging journey, even for one like himself. Besides, he was to support me, such as I was.
Upon leaving Urhan, David removed his sandals and shook the dust off them, motioning me to do the same.
“A curse on any who did not help us!” he shouted with glee.
This made me angry. “You hardly know what it is, you ask!” I said. “We have nothing but what we carry—nothing at all. It could be that a curse has been laid on us! Mind your place, boy!”
David’s eyes fell, and he began to weep. “Forgive me, Father, he said.
“It is your youth and inexperience that speaks,” I answered. “The world is larger than we know!”
#
We arrived at Urhan Station, a smaller community composed almost entirely of humbler folk, primarily farmers. I was not incardinated anywhere in the Urhan region. I thought it proper to approach the local magistrate to inform him of our presence and request leave to be accommodated for at least one night, perhaps two. Upon reviewing my documents, I was permitted to stay, provided I sought provisions in the local market and remained at the local inn. This I was happy to do.
Thank God news had not spread about my mission. It was a relief to be treated courteously for once, and I relished the opportunity to rest and regain my strength.
David was enraptured by the many sights of Urhan Station, which he had never visited before, even though it was only twenty miles from where he lived.
“Father, shall we hear Mass today?” he inquired.
“Certainly!” I replied.
We soon happened upon the parish church, a quaint, quite old stucco and wood structure dating back to the earliest days of the Urhan region’s reconstruction. Even today, the church outshone the other various dwellings, which were much more bare and plain-looking. A bell rang out, calling the populace to prayer. The church was soon filled.
I was struck by Father Bruno, the priest who said Mass. His intensely blue eyes and reputation for knowing people’s sins without being told drew many visitors for confession, even from Urhan proper. I feared he would somehow know of our mission, so I hung back in one of the back pews.
When Mass was over, and we had finished our Thanksgiving prayers, he strode right to the back of the church to see me, calling me by name, although we had never met.
“Father Cranwell! Know you, not your duty! To serve God! It is not your place to seek that which God has destroyed!”
He said this so loudly that David prostrated himself at his feet, weeping and begging forgiveness. I was stunned, and when Father Bruno had left, and I regained my composure, it was plain that we would have to leave Urhan Station; the sooner, the better.
David wept incessantly. On the one hand, he knew he might fall prey to ruffians or dire circumstances, being alone without my support. Yet, given his religious upbringing, he could not ignore Father Bruno’s words, and I would not contradict a fellow priest, so I released David from his obligation to me.
I did this with a heavy heart, wondering if I would survive long enough to arrive at Bradwell without David’s support. Yet I had to think of what was best for the boy.
“You are free to leave,” I said as we left Urhan Station.
“Where will I go?” he asked.
“Don’t you have a family to return to?”
“Family? My family is the church. I am an orphan!”
With this, I stopped to look at him. David was in tears again. I was nearly beside myself with grief, too. It was clear that he could not make a decision.
“Come with me, and you will no longer be an orphan but a son to me!” I said, wiping both his and my own tears.
#
We were quite clearly approaching the badlands. Strange, disfigured animals approached us, peering out from the undergrowth. David readied his slingshot, and I, my staff.
“I could hit one!” David exulted.
“Let us pass by the side,” I answered. Thus, we took detours through thick brambles to avoid these “denizens of hell,” as the common folk called them.
The road, too, became more rutted and overgrown. Signs warned us not to go further, though the further we went, the more rotted they appeared, like the people who erected them had passed on or failed to maintain them.
We had to sleep in the open air in a shelter we could make from branches and sticks. It began to rain. I had heard of the constant rain in the heart of the badlands, soaking you through and through. We knew not to drink from the fetid swamps that threatened to overwhelm the road, which now resembled more of a simple path than a road.
“Is God punishing us?” David asked after a tough night when I coughed more than I slept. “Isn’t it clear we shouldn’t be here?” he continued. He was throwing stones into the swamp, a look of defeat on his face.
“Hush now and trust,” I said. We have not come all this way to die now!”
But I wondered how much more we could take, wearied to the bone from the dampness and privations caused by a lack of food and good sleep, never mind the constant fear of what might happen if we grew inattentive or were unlucky.
After three days, the path abruptly stopped at a ruined habitation. No one was home, and it looked like no one had been there for some time. After my brave words to David, my heart sank. Where to now to Bradwell?
Had I fallen prey to pride? It was Father Bruno’s words that echoed in my mind.
I sank to my knees and wept.
I could have died there and then and been happy to meet my maker, poor, alone, a sinner in need of redemption. It was David who came to my rescue.
He bounded into my view even though I lay prone in the muck and filth in those last few steps on the path to nowhere.
“Look, Father!” He helped me up. “Come over here! Do you see it? Up on the hill!”
My poor eyes were unaccustomed to focusing at such a distance, yet I could just make out a building built on a hill. Was it a monastery?
I could see it shining like a beacon, a bright sheen off what looked like stout walls as we hobbled closer, David supporting me with every step I took.
#
By some magic I had never seen before, the gate to the monastery slid open to reveal a monk dressed in a black tunic. He did not speak, only motioning to us to follow him. A Benedictine? I had never seen one before.
The monk’s tunic hung loosely over his body, stopping only at his ankles. He wore a rectangular piece of cloth over his shoulders called a scapular that appeared to be made of wool. When he turned to lead us to the community, I noticed his cowl limp and unused, the sun only beginning to make its presence known.
It was an edifying experience to see such calm and serene purpose in this one monk who neither sought nor cared for our taking any notice of him whatsoever.
We climbed some hewn stone stairs to such a height! It was utterly exhausting. I had to stop frequently to catch my breath, but I could still reach a portico, the sun clothed with refracted light through the most marvelous stained glass, again as something I had never seen before. I reached out to touch it, causing the light to fall in a sudden dazzling brilliance as if moved by unseen hands. I wanted to stop and question the monk about how light could be so liquid yet impervious to my understanding!
But he moved ever onward, not looking back.
We reached a stolid door of massive weight, again opening at a mere touch! What I presumed to be the abbot greeted us.
The abbot wore a black cappa, which is a full-length cloak over his tunic. He also wore a ring, which he held out to me.
I collapsed before I could kiss his ring, and from what David told me later, I hit my head on the stone floor, losing consciousness.
#
I awoke in an infirmary, or what looked like one. David was so happy to see me come to my senses. He looked fatigued as if he had been waiting a long time by my side, sitting on a wicker chair next to an untouched tray of food on a small table.
“Eat, father!” he said, his voice catching him unawares like he had not spoken for hours. Then, he cleared his throat and looked as if he might cry.
I had more important things on my mind. “What of the…abbot?” I gasped as I reached for a plain, remarkably shaped glass containing a liquid I did not recognize.
David handed it to me. “He never spoke to me. After you collapsed, two monks carried you here. Will you get well, Father?” he pleaded.
“God willing!” I said. You are so faithful to me; how can it be otherwise?” I joked, but then I frowned. “But there is much to discuss…” I said as I tried to get out of bed.
“Not until you are well!” David commanded. “Eat!”
#
The days went swiftly by. A monk with remarkable medical knowledge examined me. And there was so much food! So much more than I was used to.
Then, several days later, another monk with such bright eyes came to get me. This one was not unassuming or silent. He was talkative, so much so that I wondered if he was a monk or a commoner dressed in monk attire!
“Know you, not your duty!” I exclaimed at one point amid his chatter.
He rounded on me, his confident air dissipating as air escapes a putrid cask.
“Know you, not yours?” he replied. With that, we both fell into sullen silence. He then led me to see the abbot.
#
It was as before. This time, I kissed the abbot’s ring and returned to standing before him in what looked like the chapter house, a meeting room where the community would gather to conduct business.
Gazing about, I saw things on shelves I had never seen before. Whether they were functional or not escaped me; some seemed to be parts of other, larger objects. Here and there, you could see these recognizable parts protruding. But I was not given leave to stare at these unusual artifacts for long.
“You and your servant are welcome to stay with us!” the abbot announced. “I have made inquiries, and the bishop of Urhan diocese has vouched for you. The bishop was once a monk at this very place! What exactly have you come here to do?”
“Father Abbot, I wish to conduct research.”
“By all means, let us visit the scriptorium and the library!”
Again, there was light that I had never seen before.
In a wonder of wonders, I was led into the scriptorium, where monks sat at tables reading words that appeared and disappeared on pages filled with light, with no visible candles.
Then, many books in unknown languages were in the library, with pictures not drawn or painted of such wonders as I could scarcely describe! Many of these books were burned, and some could not be read. Still, everything was neatly stored and accounted for.
“Why not let everyone see these wonders,” I asked.
The Abbot was taken aback. “Do you believe that the people would comprehend that we were once prosperous, but now we are poor only because of a war of unimaginable fury as if the very wrath of God enveloped everything? This is knowledge for only a select few!”
The Abbot, setting aside his vows, embraced me and continued speaking for what seemed like a very long time.
“You need hardly wonder! Was it not always so? Monks preserved knowledge, whether of religion or not, that would have been lost otherwise in past times. We do so today, as always. Forever, until the end of time itself!”
So began my new life. Father Bruno could remind the people of what went wrong, and I would now discover why.
What is the hardest thing you have ever done?
Survived on 10 Rs for 11 days. I lived on borrowed food and also ate free food at temples. Cycled a distance of about 24 km everyday. Lost friends, Girlfriend, faith in everything but ended up being stronger and learning a lot of lessons.
On 21st October 2010 all I had was 10 Rs. in my wallet. You can only buy a cup of tea with that amount of money. Life was hell for 11 days (From 21st to 31st October 2010) I would eat mostly at temple(prasad) or eat bits from food offered by other employees who worked with me, then go to the wash room and cry at my situation. I would come back home tired after cycling for 12 km and cry on my bed and fall asleep because of exhaustion. Wake up early and cycle back to work.
On the 11th day I went to my uncle’s place where my Grandmother was staying at that time. Because I met my Grandmother after a long time and she gave me 20 Rs. She put it in my hand and said “I know you earn much more, right now I have only 20 ₹, keep it, it’s a blessing” I had tears in my eyes and don’t know why but I felt she understood what I had gone through. I immediately hugged her and cried for a while. It is customary for grandparents in our family to give some money to grandchildren when they meet after a long time. I bought a bun & a cup of tea from a bakery that evening with that money. The first time I had spent in 10 days.
Looking Back, the most stupid thing I have done in my life so far : starting a business in 2009 with a couple of friends. I was always fascinated to start something on my own. Stupid because firstly I trusted people’s words and believed them and secondly I took risks without contingency. I had taken loan from the bank for the initial investment of business, the business partners had their own savings though. The first few months were manageable, but come August 2010 things became very bad for us. I had to borrow money from friends to pay salaries of the people working with us. My credit card was already maxed out. Plus I had EMI of the loan and the 4 wheeler EMI. The 4 wheeler down payment was paid by dad & Sister and for the EMI I had promised I would pay, otherwise at home no one was interested in the 4 wheeler.
Come 5th October 2010 the date of my EMI and all money in my account was over. In fact if I remember there was 14 paisa in my account. Of course I had a few 100 Rs in my wallet. I begged my friends to help with some money and no one did. My partners always said they too had no money, only that they still continued living with a decent lifestyle (One of the reasons I left the business in mid 2011). In fact my business partners did not even bother to acknowledge the fact that in the beginning while our share of profits was still good, month after month I would invest back my share of profits to the business, they would not, nor would they ask me to take my share. By mid month(October) almost all my money was spent. My parents were in my home town. I was living in a place where I had even taken loans from neighbors. The idea of staying at home would be really bad as people would ask back their money.
I had to stay at home and not switch on the lights for the fear of the neighbors asking back their money. Since there was no light I would sleep early, wake up early and cycle to work 12 km one way (Tough in a city where there is an uneven terrain and without any food, all the rice and other food items at home I had consumed by mid month). By now I was also having a rough patch with my ex. Once I explained things to her, & even cried in front of her because of my situation, all she did was patiently listen(like she would always do but not help.) All I wanted was some emotional support but probably she felt that I wanted some money from her and very politely said “I got to go, parents are waiting at home”. I could have asked my parents for help but the business was started against their wishes and they would ask me to explain a lot of things and ask me to quit, also the fact that I had already borrowed a lot of money from them.
By the start of next month things got better, and ya I started taking my share of profits which I was not doing earlier. Slowly I started working towards saving some money every month(this went on a long way to help in getting my sister married a couple of years later). This phase of my life or rather the 3–4 months was the toughest I had in all fronts, Bad business, bad finances, bad health, bad mindset, bad temper, bad relationship and bad memories. I remember that by November 1st week when my parents were back things were getting normal and I started to tell them bit by bit about the problems in business. They helped a lot in those troubling time.
And lastly, I still keep the 10 Rs note in my Wallet and I would not give it to anyone for whatever amount they offer me. It keeps reminding me that the tough times are gone and even if life gets harder I can handle it.
Three Envelope Crock Pot Roast
Prep: 5 min | Cook: 6 to 8 hr | Yield: 6 servings
Ingredients
- 1 cup water
- 1 (.7 ounce) envelope dry Italian-style salad dressing mix
- 1 (1 ounce) envelope ranch dressing mix
- 1 (.75 ounce) envelope dry brown gravy mix
- 1 (3 pound) boneless beef chuck roast
Instructions
- Stir together the water, Italian dressing mix, ranch dressing mix, and brown gravy mix together in a bowl until smooth.
- Place the beef roast into a slow cooker, and pour the sauce over top.
- Cook on LOW until the roast is easily pierced by a fork, 6 to 8 hours.
What is the most surprising thing you have accidentally overheard about yourself?
I had a very dear friend…actually an unrequited love…that died of leukemia when he was 26. We had been close from pretty much the time we met in college, but our stars never aligned. We dated, but he eventually married someone who divorced him 3 months before he died.
I visited him whenever he was in hospital. The last time I beat my blood donation to his room by 5 minutes. His Mom (who adored me because I got up to clear dishes with her the first time I had dinner with them), was with him as usual. I knew he was close to the end and didn’t want to chase her out and told her she didn’t need to leave for me, but she insisted. She came back a few minutes before I left.
My friend’s dad called me a week later at work to give me the news and let me know about arrangements. The funeral was about 5 hours away. My mom took a mutual friend and me to the funeral.
His family was surprised and pleased that we came all that way and invited us for lunch at his sister’s house. We three travelers mingled and talked separately for a couple of hours and then headed home.
On the way home Mom related a talk she had had with my friend’s mom. Friend’s mom said that she spent most of her time at the hospital when her son was there as he was for days and weeks at a time. She loved her son and didn’t want him to be alone. She usually stayed no matter who came to visit. But she said she always felt safe leaving him alone with me…that I was the only one she felt safe leaving him alone with…and that he was always better after I visited.
I knew he was my soul mate, but that kind of sealed the deal.
Did you ever beat up the high school bully in front of everyone?
Not the high school bully, but the town pervert who liked to prey on 13-14 year old girls. I was 18 at the time, and had a summer job running a game room on the main street of my home town. I was only 5 feet 2 inches tall, so not very intimidating to look at. One day while I was working three young teenage girls came running in and asked me to hide them. Right on their heels was the known pervert who was only not in jail due to family influence. I walked up to him and told him to leave. Note he was over 6 feet tall and in his late 20s. He smirked at me and reached out to shove me out of his way so I put him to the floor, screaming in pain. You see, my father had extremely rigid notions that you never hurt or harassed those weaker than yourself but he knew others didn’t feel that way, so he taught me some nasty tricks to take down any bullies. In this case I grabbed his wrist and bent it back, putting him in severe pain, then with my other hand reached out and grabbed his neck on the nerves and put him to the floor. I then told him he was banned for life from the game room and told him to get out. After that, the game room was a place of safety for the kids in that town
What is the best way to respond when someone tells you “You’re not invited”?
It depends on the situation. I used to go out once a week after work with three other women. One time they were talking about the next week’s outing being at a different place and I said, “Oh that sounds like fun.” And they said, “Oh, you’re not invited. We’re going out with a different coworker and she doesn’t know you very well so we didn’t think she’d want you there.” I was like… why are you discussing a weekly outing that I’m not included in? I told them I was going to the ladies’ room so they could firm up these plans without me at the table, and will hopefully be done discussing it by the time I return. I thought it was incredibly rude of them to discuss it like that in front of me. I don’t need to be included in every outing, but don’t talk about it like it’s our next outing, and then inform me I’m not invited. Of course the other person heard about it from them and wanted me to come, but at that point there was no way I’d join them. Covid broke up our weekly outings soon after.
I am well aware of those clocks, though not for the reason you’d think
When I was working with the Schizophrenic Handpuppet Psychic, Juilianna, she told me that the strongest remedies she could use to allay my negativity and evil influences were “watches”, powerful in “The Element of Time”, able to ixnay years’ worth of negative energies like it was a massive time-sink. She exhorted me to get into massive amounts of debt so I could purchase a wristwatch that can be used to subdue these evil energies, but I could not get a credit card because I was impoverished and unable to secure a good job.
When I secured deposition money with the help of a Schizophrenic Hobo Lawyer (who I will talk about elsewhere,) I reconvened with Juilianna despite that Clive forewarned me that she was useless and I should dump/ghost her. She immediately inveigled me to splurge tens of thousands of dollars to purchase wristwatches and massive magical clocks to contain and remove evil energies so that I can finally achieve my messiahnic destiny as the next Elon Musk/Jesus-level savior. This is what they looked like. Super fancy, super pricey, and super gaudy.
And what do you know? My soul-mother and Tesla’s reincarnation, Kay, dismissed all of Juilianna’s magical crystal time solutions as dogshit that gets in the way of what had to actually be accessed. She knows, because she invented Time Travel and Temporal manipulation technology here. Time and history is her domain.
And so, I would lose the rotary clock within a week because some schmuck stole it from me when I tried to hide it from my super nosy and abusive auntie, and all of my money from the deposition would be depleted fast over garbage time wimey solutions like the aforementioned and others.
Endpoint: If you like fancy clocks and watches, go on and get them. But do not use them for spiritual/psychic/quanta healing and realignment. It’s all hot garbage that’s far more expensive and less effective than the psych meds psychiatrists give to their clients.
The Prayer affirmations on this site are far more effective than repurposing antique clocks as Timey-Wimey magical healing soultions.