Well, I had a complete computer crash.

BIOs cannot find anything.

USB sticks are unusable. Can’t access the BIOs, and my hard drive couldn’t be found, and when I found it, the partions were all corrupted.

My computer was a “boat anchor”.

Well, after about six hours wasted away trying to figure out what was going on, I decided to get a replacement computer.

Took the time.

Drove to the local mall.

Chose between Honor, Huawei and Shaomi brands.

The young women sales-chicks in the Honor and Huawei stores were clueless. Telling me such things as “Windows does not have a version in English”, and ” you need a RAM of 32GB minimum to run modern programs.”

*sheech*

Luckily there was a youngish man who was on point in the shaomi store, and he really helped us out.

So I got a latest version as the one that conked out.

Shaomi Redmi 14 to a Shaomi Redmi 16.

But I stepped down some on the performance.

Not as fast. Not so much RAM. But a good robust design.

I came with Windows, but I upgraded for the English overlay (no auto updates, and no backdoors to the CIA.

And because of this, I installed Microsoft Windows 11+

…AND…

Lunix Mint Cinnamon at Wilma 22 build on it.

So I have a dual OS option.

I just select the boot-up option when I turn on the computer.

Anyways…

That is what I have been working with over the last few days. I have lost about one month of files, but I have the rest either in the various clouds, or on my backup drive.

I got it all straightened out using my AI assistant; “Deep seek”.

With much more detail later on.

Ah. I’m still in the system banging away on the laptop. But things seem much better now.

Today…

NEVER QUIT. |Powerful Motivational Speech For Success.

English Outsider: Russia-U.S. Talks – A Change In The Picture

by English Outsider
lifted from comments

An interview with [former British diplomat] Ian Proud changes the picture.

I had thought, as did most, that the Russians had given up on the West and were just stolidly ploughing on with their 2022 objectives. Proud asserts that this is not the case and that the Russians are genuinely interested in rapprochement with the United States.

Whether Trump himself can offer that is still perhaps an open question. He faces flat opposition from the Europeans, who still wish the war to continue. The head of the BND said recently that it would be in Europe’s interest if the war lasted another five years and we see from the reactions of various European politicians that the only “peace settlement” they could support would be one that was not consistent with the Russian war aims. For some of them RF delenda est is the only end to this war that would leave them happy.

More importantly, Trump faces significant internal opposition. His attempts at administrative reform are bitterly contested. His ideological stance and that of his supporters is a throwback to earlier days of moderate American conservatism and is quite at odds with the stance that prevailed in the Biden era – it takes little insight to see there’s trouble brewing there. His view of the war in Ukraine is also at odds with the view hitherto prevailing in the American political establishment. And the midterms are looming, elections that he must do well in if he is to keep a fractious Congress with him as he attempts to push through those administrative reforms.

The last thing Trump wants, as he seeks to push through his programme in the maelstrom that is American domestic politics, is the reproach that he “lost Ukraine”. That the West was always engaged in an unwinnable war there, and that Trump is now recognising that reality, will be obscured by accusations that he is a “Russian patsy” or an “appeaser”. We’re already seeing that accusation openly levelled against him by the Europeans and by his own domestic opposition.

That opposition does not only consist of the Democrats. A powerful wing of the Republican Party is also opposed to Trump and that wing is also opposed to any rapprochement with Russia. That wing of the Republican Party is somewhat subdued at present but it’s still there and still with some support in the electorate.

So whether Trump can offer genuine rapprochement with Russia, opposed as he is by what may be regarded as effectively a coalition of the Europeans, Democrats, and even many within his own party, is uncertain. If he can offer rapprochement that’s his sole card to play as he seeks an end to the hostilities in Ukraine. If Ian Proud is correct, that’s a powerful card because the Russians are also interested in rapprochement.

I believe that Ian Proud is correct. The Russians are waiting warily to see which way the cat jumps but if there’s a rapprochement there on offer they’ll take it. The United States is too big and powerful for it to be in the Russian interest to be permanently at odds with it. As I recollect Martyanov remarking some time ago, in the long term it would be better for the Russians to find a modus vivendi with the US than not.

Unfortunately Putin himself does not have a free hand. War has its own momentum and often can render insuperable difficulties that could previously have been glossed over. A substantial portion of Putin’s electorate now believes he is being too soft by far in this war. The Security Council, judging from statements coming out from some of its members, is more hawkish than he is. His military too. And Putin himself has repeated the minimum Russian objectives so often and so clearly that he is in no position to walk them back. Those objectives stated most concisely by Lavrov in his Newsweek interview:

On 14 June, President Vladimir Putin listed prerequisites for the settlement as follows:

• complete AFU withdrawal from the DPR [Donetsk People’s Republic], LPR [Luhansk People’s Republic], Zaporozhye and Kherson Oblasts;
• recognition of territorial realities as enshrined in the Russian Constitution;
• neutral, non-bloc, non-nuclear status for Ukraine;
• its demilitarization and denazification;
• securing the rights, freedoms and interests of Russian-speaking citizens;
• and removal of all sanctions against Russia.

“All sanctions”. Might be some wriggle room there. In his recent speech to the regional industrialists Putin mentioned the beneficial effects of some sanctions so he might not be too worried about all of them.

“Denazification.” As said before, a vague term and would probably only amount to the removal of memorials to WWII collaborators, cessation of persecution of the Russian Orthodox Church, and the elimination of material glorifying the OUN in the schools.

But agreeing on that, as I noticed Ian Proud touching on briefly in that interview, is not as simple as all that. It is an article of faith in the western electorates and for most of the western politicians that the assertion that ultra-nationalists, or “Nazis”, have the say in Kiev is Russian propaganda. For the Russians, however, removal of those ultra-nationalists is a core objective. It’s difficult to see how Trump, or any other western politician, could come to an agreement about the removal of those ultras without admitting that that core Russian objective is justified.

The other conditions are less controversial. From the recent Witkoff/Carlson interview it didn’t seem that the territorial conditions are much of a stumbling block, though for what it matters I doubt the Europeans will accept them in a hurry. There’s the making of a peace deal there that would end the carnage in Ukraine before we insist, in real truth, on “fighting to the last Ukrainian”. But it all depends on whether Trump can get that rapprochement against the stiff European and internal opposition he’s encountering.

If he can’t, that’ll be Odessa and Kharkov gone, and further tens of thousands of casualties. Until I watched that Ian Proud interview that’s the way I thought it would go. But if someone at home in the diplomatic world reckons there’s a slim chance it won’t, one can only hope that slim chance comes off.

Even Von Rundstedt, that most Prussian of Prussians and maybe the best general they had, knew when “Make peace you fools” was the only option left. Our war with Russia is lost. We should man up and accept that reality and not insist on putting our proxies through more hell.

Posted by b on March 24, 2025 at 16:34 UTC | Permalink

Can the United States still remain its power after China having a 6th generation fighter jet? Can the United State Air Force still keep up with China?

Do you want to hear the truth or lies?

The lie is, MAGA, USA! USA! USA!

The truth.

Let me first state that I am Chinese.

The United States should first consider how to restart the F22 production line.

What? 70% of the F22 parts need to be imported from China, otherwise it will not be manufactured?

What? Most of the suppliers of the remaining 30% of F22 parts have gone bankrupt?

What? Are all the industrial workers in F22 already old?

What? Musk thinks it’s a joke that we’re still building fifth-generation machines. Should the United States engage in drones?

If you ask which company has better drone technology?

………………

What about the F35? Seriously, is the F35 really considered a fifth-generation machine?

So it’s okay. Americans can think about it, first upgrade your old aircraft F22, improve the F35,

I won’t say here that the parameters of our Chinese J20 and J35 are much higher than those of the F22.

Let’s go and develop sixth-generation machines.

Tex-Mex Chicken Melts

Yield: 20 servings

Ingredients

Canape Bread

• 1 (11 ounce) package refrigerated French bread dough

Filling

• 1/2 cup onion, finely chopped
• 1/2 cup green bell pepper, chopped
• 4 ounces (1 cup) Cheddar cheese, grated, divided
• 1 (10 ounce) can chunk white chicken, drained and flaked
• 1/4 cup mayonnaise
• 1 tablespoon Pantry Southwestern Seasoning Mix
• 1 garlic clove, pressed
• 2 plum tomatoes, sliced
• 2 tablespoons fresh parsley, snipped

Instructions

1. Heat oven to 375 degrees F.
2. Using Kitchen Spritzer, lightly spray inside of Bread Tube and caps with vegetable oil. Cap bottom of Bread Tube; fill tube with dough. Place cap on top.
3. Bake, upright, for 50 to 60 minutes.
4. Cool for 10 minutes. Remove bread from tube onto Nonstick Cooling Rack. Cool completely.
5. Cut bread into 20 (1/4 inch) slices with Serrated Bread Knife. Arrange slices on Rectangle Stone.
6. Chop onion using Food Chopper. Chop bell pepper using Utility Knife. Grate cheese using Deluxe Cheese Grater.
7. In Classic Batter Bowl, combine chicken, onion, bell pepper, 1/2 cup of the cheese, mayonnaise, Seasoning Mix and garlic pressed with Garlic Press; mix well.
8. Using Medium Scoop, divide filling evenly among bread slices. Slice tomatoes using Ultimate Slice & Grate fitted with v-shaped blade. Place one tomato slice over filling on each bread slice. Snip parsley using Kitchen Shears.
9. In Small Batter Bowl, toss remaining cheese and parsley to combine. Sprinkle over tomato slices.
10. Bake for 15 to 18 minutes or until golden brown.
11. Serve hot.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Why do steaks from restaurants taste so much better than the steaks I make at home?

I will tell you, but you might not like the answer.

I’m a cook, and I have cooked a lot of steaks, and everything the other answers say is true. A lot depends on the quality of the meat and the technique.

But there is one thing nobody has mentioned.

Once upon a time, I worked as a server in a restaurant that was known for the quality of their steaks. Steak night was a big deal, and always a full house.

The owner did the steaks himself, and he had a secret recipe for basting that he told me he got from a chef at a chain steakhouse. He wouldn’t tell me the recipe but I saw him add a bottle of Italian dressing, so I knew that was one of the ingredients.

We had a new cook, and one day she was filling the big stove salt shakers. She complained that the salt didn’t taste right, and wondered if it had gone bad, so I asked her where she got the salt from. She pulled a big jar off the top shelf, and showed it to me.

It said Monosodium Glutamate.

She read sodium on the label and mistook it for salt.

And instantly I knew the secret to the steaks.

So the next steak night I watched, and sure enough he reached for the MSG.

It makes a noticeable difference in the taste of meat, and it’s in a lot of prepared steak seasonings that you buy, but it might not be good for you. Personally, I don’t use it.

Gate M41

Submitted into Contest #196 in response to: Set your story in a world where time travel has been perfected, and people can use it to hop between alternate timelines — but at a cost.… view prompt

Liv Chocolate

This story contains sensitive content

cw: mentions of suicide, murder, sex, and terminal illness  

 

Balloons, apparently, are a weapon of mass destruction. Even the one that I’m fighting to get past security at this very moment—an 18” round one with the words GET WELL SOON printed above a cartoon sun wearing sunglasses. The more I look at it, the more it bothers me that the sun, in theory, is protecting himself against himself.

 

Out of all the people in our lives, we hurt ourselves the most, my husband had warned me before I left. Are you sure you want to visit this woman? 

 

“She’s dying—as in, terminally ill dying.” That’s the honest explanation I gave to anyone who asked, including the security guard arguing with me right now. This would be my good deed of the year. This is how I’d atone for all the sins I’d committed in my thirty-seven years of life; how I’d pay my penance for the two-sided tendencies that have plagued me for as long as I can remember.

 

“Then why tell her to get well soon?” the guard asks, humored. “I mean, if she’s terminally ill?”

 

With a gloved hand, he confiscates my balloon, making me, at thirty-seven years old, feel like a child. Sometimes I think the guards inconvenience us on purpose, purely out of envy. Only the top three percent can afford time-travel. In fact, most can’t even afford to travel economy. The last time I traveled, there was an issue with my shampoo and the time before that an issue with the studs on my heels.

 

The guards also tend to dislike us for the reasons we travel. Some elite travel to alternate timelines to have sex with more athletic versions of themselves. Others travel to alternate timelines to kill less successful versions of themselves, to which their lawyers always end up successfully arguing is suicide, not murder.

 

I explain to the guard that I am not that type of traveler, however. Contrary to what he may believe about me or the top three percent in general, I’m not that type of rich person. I do not want to perform sexually creative acts on a leaner version of myself. Nor do I want to slaughter a weaker version of myself for my own sick pleasure. I simply want to deliver a 99-Cents-Store balloon to a dying version of myself, atone for all the times I’ve deceived people in my life and then go home to my two boys and husband where we will count our blessings.

 

But he refuses to return my balloon and points me to Gate M41.

 

***

In the first letter I ever wrote to the dying version of myself, I asked her why—out of the infinite number of variations there were of myself—her life will end the most abruptly. We had the same genetics, after all. The same family history and predispositions to different types of illnesses, albeit different life decisions that had led us in radically different directions.

 

She responded almost immediately to my letter. Probably due in part to the fact that she only has so much time left in this universe—but also because time-postage costs a fraction of what it costs to time-travel.

 

Even someone like her, buried in medical bill after medical bill, could afford it.

 

The air is bad here, she wrote back. The food is bad, too. Pumped with preservatives and chemicals that deform your organs. Probably why I have heart disease and you don’t? Your world is better, cleaner.

 

Did I mention I can barely afford my blood thinners? she added. My blood is as thick as gravy, and I’m only thirty-seven. I probably won’t even live to get married. Become a mother. Those are the two things I’ve wanted to do most before I die.

 

I offered to travel to her—to pay for every medical bill, no matter how large. We were connected, after all—maybe even more so than sisters or lovers. The more I wrote to her, the more I felt for her, too. We had the same handwriting, the same 90-degree Ls that could stab and carefully closed Os with not even the smallest gap. At one point, I thought I loved her. Not in a romantic way or even a familial way but in the way my therapist once told me that I needed to love myself more. Perhaps this was the closest I’d ever come to self-love, given what a terrible person I am at my core, in this and every timeline.

 

So I offered and offered. I’d pay for the blood thinners; I’d pay for the hospice care; I’d pay for the teddy bears. Though I didn’t mean to brag, I made it clear to her that it would be at no cost to me. Our realities, though vastly different, still used the same currency.

 

When she finally agreed to the money, we decided I’d deliver the money in person to make sure it ended up in the right hands.

 

You can’t trust people, she’d written. People are terrible. Especially where I’m from. 

 

***

 

I buy a new balloon when I arrive. It’s almost identical to the one taken from me, except this one doesn’t say GET WELL SOON. It says SUMMER FUN, even though it is December.

 

The air is thicker here and the smog covers the sun, but the other me assured me before I arrived that it would take a life-long length of exposure for me to end up in the same position she’s in.

 

As I search for her room number, my anxiety builds. I worry what I will say when I walk in. What she will say when I walk in. The handle of the suitcase of money becomes damp in my hand. I remind myself that I’ve talked to myself in the mirror before; had hypothetical practice conversations and practice arguments with myself in the mirror. I’ve even kissed my own reflection. Talking to this alternate version of myself would, in reality, be no different. I’d visited alternate versions of myself before, but never any that were dying.

 

“Mary?” a voice like mine says as I push the door open.

 

“Hi, Mary. It’s me, Mary.”

 

We both laugh uncomfortably. I try to hug her, but the plastic nest of tubes enveloping her small frame make it more awkward than it already is. We look identical, except for a scar on her left cheek. She’d mentioned in one of her letters a Terrier that attacked her at at her uncle’s BBQ, something that had never happened to me because of a slight variation in my own timeline. The more I look at her, the more I recognize myself in her.

 

“Your face is so much more beautiful than mine,” she says, touching her scar, and reaching to feel my own face.

 

Unsure of how to respond, I tie the cheap, curly balloon ribbon around her limp wrist. She admires the Cartier bracelet around my own wrist and then looks back down at the ribbon tied to hers.

 

“You’re so much better than me,” she says in a croaking voice.

 

“Well, I am you. Just you under different circumstances.”

 

We’re both silent for a moment until I get to the point. “This is the money.”

 

She looks at the suitcase. “Straight cash?”

 

“It’s the only way to deliver it.”

 

“I know. I’m just in shock.” She lowers her voice. “Can I ask you a question?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“How much exactly is in there? Don’t say it too loud.”

 

I take out my phone to type it out for her. She looks at my wallpaper and smiles. “Is that your husband?” she asks solemnly.

 

“Yes. That’s Ted. And our two boys. Bradley and Hunter.”

 

“You’re so lucky.”

 

“Don’t be jealous,” I say light-heartedly. “Marriage isn’t as great as it seems. And kids . . . boys especially!” I roll my eyes light-heartedly and change the subject. I type in the amount with my freshly manicured nails and show her the screen.

 

“No,” she says, point blank. “I only need a fraction of that amount for the blood thinners.”

 

“Spend the rest on whatever you want,” I say. “Sincerely. Spend it on whatever you’ve dreamed of doing before you die.”

 

***

 

I tuck Mary in her bed under the starchy hospital sheets and kiss her on the forehead goodbye. She’s out on morphine by the time I book a trip out, so there are no awkward goodbyes and she can no longer beg and scream at me for leaving early as the nurses hold her back.

 

In a matter of minutes, I leave this reality and go back to my own where my husband embraces me and my two boys barrel down the stairs to tug at my skirt.

 

“How was it?” asks Ted.

 

“Good.”

 

“Did she take the money?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“That’s wonderful,” says Ted, pulling me in but then pushing me back so that he can see my entire face.

 

“Mary,” he says, startled. “What happened to your cheek?”

What’s your opinion of Roland Bartetzko?

Roland Bartetzko is a former German paratrooper who was charged with serious crimes in Kosovo related to terrorism and murder. After being dishonorably discharged from the Bundeswehr in 1991, he lived a life as a mercenary and alleged contract killer, particularly during the Yugoslav Wars and later in Kosovo. He is linked to several bombings and massacres specifically targeting Serbian civilians and government officials.

Key Aspects and Crimes:

• Military Background: Dishonorably discharged from the Bundeswehr. Participated in explosives courses and commando training during his time as a paratrooper.
• Mercenary and Terrorist Activities: Fought in the Yugoslav Wars on the Croatian side, and later with Muslim fighters. Suspected of working as a contract killer for the UÇK (Kosovo Liberation Army) in Kosovo. Main suspect in the murder of Colonel Aleksandar Petrovic through a precisely planned bombing attack. Connected to other attacks, including: A bombing of a peace center in Pristina (August 18). An attack on the residence of a Serbian government official (November 22). A massacre of civilians in a bus convoy near Podujevo (February 16), killing at least 10 people, including children.
• Criminal Past: Arrested in Germany for handbag theft and other robbery offenses. Founded a suspected criminal “security company” in Kosovo that covered extortion and terrorist acts.
• Personality and Negative Traits: Isolation: Severed contact with his family and led a nomadic life during the war. Glorification of Violence: Exhibited a “weapon obsession” and a willingness to engage in terrorist acts. Exploitation of Surroundings: Married an Albanian woman and adapted to local culture to hide his activities in Kosovo.
• Evidence and Consequences: Bartetzko’s fingerprints were found on unexploded bombs, directly linking him to the terrorist attacks. He faced up to 40 years in prison for murder, terrorism, and bodily harm, was sentenced to 23 years and set free in 2015.

Bartetzko is definitely as a ruthless, violent opportunist who used his military training and strategic skills for terrorist and criminal purposes. His life is marked by isolation, crime, and a close connection to organized crime in Kosovo.

Shorpy

China is NOT Messing Around This TIme – Here’s Why

No it is not.

The Greed of Man

Submitted into Contest #18 in response to: Your fingers tensed around the object in your pocket, ready to pull it out at a moment’s notice.… view prompt

General

He had been following me all day. Of course I didn’t turn around to see. I could sense him: hear the incessant crunching of his footsteps through the leaves, the labored breathing (I had been walking very quickly for quite some time), and an occasional sniff. I didn’t know exactly why he was stalking me, but I had a pretty good idea.Most of the few pedestrians had gone home and the forest road was practically empty. There was a chill in the air and a biting wind howled through the bare trees, shaking the remaining leaves to the ground. I pulled my cloak tighter around me and turned the curve in the road. I quickened my pace, hoping to tire the man. I knew he could never catch me if I started running, but I didn’t want to appear afraid. Most things did not scare me; I don’t know if it was the weather, the forest, or the man, but right now I was filled with trepidation.The figure rounded the corner. I looked up and saw another bend in the road, just ahead. That would be my chance. I hastened my stride even more. Just a few more steps. I peered into the dark forest on my right and left. No one. The turn was approaching, fast. I stole a glimpse behind me. The man looked up, seemingly absorbed in the sky. I smirked and rounded the corner, taking off at high speed.I flew down the dirt road, clutching my cloak. Nearing yet another bend in the road, I tore through the underbrush to my right and pressed my back up against a tree. I thought that the man would think I rounded the corner and pursue me that way. Meanwhile, I would escape back the way we had come.Soon, I heard scuffling feet. The man came to a stop, panting, directly across the road from where I was hiding. Suddenly he yelled. “Terrowin!” Another man, whom I assumed was Terrowin, came sprinting around the corner.”What?” the new-comer asked.”You didn’t see her?””No, I thought you were following her.””She started running,” my pursuer said. “Are you sure she didn’t round the corner?””Aye, I was keeping a close eye on the road and in the woods. She couldn’t have gotten past me.””Then she must be nearby. You search over there.” He pointed on my side of the road. Terrowin nodded, pulled out a dagger, and stalked over to the woods. My fingers tensed around the object in my pocket, ready to pull it out at a moment’s notice.My heart was pounding in my chest, the way my father’s mallet pounded on his anvil. I crouched down in the underbrush and pulled my hood up over my face. At least I blend in with my surroundings, I thought. My cloak is dark green and my shirt and trousers are brown. As I lay down under a bush, my sword rattled against my leg. I muttered a remark under my breath and prayed that my predators hadn’t heard it. I started crawling, my legs dragging behind me, through the undergrowth.”Where is that blasted girl?” a voice very near me complained. I stopped, watching and listening. When I heard him walk away, I started inching my way again.On the other side of the bend, I sat up, brushing mud from my elbows and sword. I peered over the bushes. Nobody was on the road. I glanced behind me. My pursuers were still searching through the vegetation. I sprang up and jumped onto the road. A deluge of shouts announced my appearance and a volley of arrows was shot straight at my head. I ducked quickly and several arrows burried themselves in a tree behind me. I grabbed a bunch and took off.Stealing a glance behind me, I saw a large group of men chasing me. I slowed my pace to let them catch up, slightly. When they were near enough, I hurled the arrows at them. Many hit their mark. I raced off again. I knew they couldn’t catch me, but there were so many of them, they would be able to track me easily. I had to get rid of them. For good.I stopped in my tracks and thrust my hand into my pocket. I wrapped my fingers around the cold glass object. The men hesitated, apparently unsure whether to keep running. With my other hand, I drew my sword. A breeze whipped by, blowing off my hood. I was sure the men could all see the wicked scar stretching down my face. I had dealt with them before, and paid for it. As they advanced, I gripped the object harder. I would never let them confiscate it. It belonged to my people, and I had already rescued it once before. They were approaching quickly, swords drawn.

They were twenty yards away. Fifteen. I pulled my hand out of my pocket and lifted it high above my head. The swirling blue Orb tucked under my fingers became warm. I grinned shakily. Oh, I hope this works. Ten yards away. I yanked my arm down and smashed the Orb on the ground. It resulted in a blue explosion, sending men flying through the air. I ran. As I outstretched my hand, the Orb zipped through the air and landed back in my palm. I smiled. It had worked!

I dashed along the road, barely feeling the ground beneath my feet. The trees to my sides were only a blur. I was headed for my hidden city; the city of the elves. About a quarter mile away from the explosion, I halted. Someone was still following. I couldn’t risk letting him go free and endangering my people. I leaned against a tree on the edge of the road waiting. The man, whom I recognized as my original pursuer, soon came into view. He had survived the explosion, but left with a terrible limp.

When he saw me, he spit. “Who are you and what do you want?” I asked.

He laughed maliciously. “My name is Rowan and I want that!” He pointed a gnarled finger at the Orb.

“You stole it from my people. It is rightfully ours. You cannot requisition it without a conflict.” I pointed my sword at him.

“I don’t care about keeping peace! I just want power, no matter how many lives I must take to get it!” he screamed.

“Then the people you rule will revolt against you. This power cannot quench the might of the people. You will be overthrown.”

He sneered. “You don’t know what it’s like. You’ve always been high and mighty in your people. You don’t know what it’s like to live without.”

“Aye. But since I am ‘high and mighty’ as you say, I know how to properly rule a people. All you are asking for is tyranny.”

A dark scowl crossed his face. “I… Don’t… CARE!” He lunged forward. I quickly pulled out the Orb and thrust it toward him. In a tornado of color, Rowan was sucked in, leaving behind only ashes. I sighed, and dropped the Orb back in my pocket. Then I spun around and ran home.

 

 

“Leyleandi!” my father cried as I strutted into our hidden city. He embraced me and escorted me into the heart of the city. “Welcome home.”

“Thank you, father.”

“I assume your journey went well?”

“Ah, there were a few complications, but I managed.” I smiled.

“And did you retrieve the Orb of Glandias?”

“Aye.”

“Well, let’s have a look, shall we?” We walked over to a table under a tree and once again, I pulled the Orb out of my pocket. Then, I recounted my tale.

“The Orb has served me well.” I smiled.

My father stroked the swirling blue globe reverently. “Aye, It really has.”

What do you think of China’s 6th generation fighter test flight?

I’ve noticed that discussions in Western military forums often lack technical depth and are filled with chaos. I’d like to contribute some serious discussions in hopes of encouraging more of this type of dialogue.

note that I am not very familiar with some terms in English, so if you found somewhere hard to understand, feel free to comment

TL;DR: now it is China that defines the rule of future Air compats

Finally, the official media has reported on it, though it’s a re-post. Last night, as soon as it was released, various experts and influential figures began their analyses, so we will also start our discussion. Let’s provisionally call the new aircraft the J-X.

#### We won’t go over trivial topics; instead, let’s focus on a few key issues.

— –

### 1. Elevon Actuators

Why is this important? What do actuators do? Basically they drive the deflection of aerodynamic control surfaces. The maximum force an actuator can provide reflects the dynamic pressure that the control surface can withstand.

To put it simply, imagine pushing open a door that requires 100 kg of force. If the new door now requires 200 kg of force to open, and my arm can only exert 100 kg of force, I could split the effort by pushing two doors simultaneously.

Thus, we can compare the number of actuators and the control surfaces they drive between the J-X and the J-20. By combining this with the dynamic pressure formula, we can roughly estimate how much faster the J-X can achieve its maximum dynamic pressure compared to the J-20 under the same conditions. This assumes no advancements in hydraulic systems. Considering the progress in hydraulic systems over the years, the J-X’s dynamic pressure capability should be even higher. Additionally, the cross-sectional area of the actuators — though unknown, it appears larger than that of the J-20 — means greater force output according to Pascal’s Law.

After all these considerations, we can estimate the maximum speed of the J-X (which is also its cruise speed, as mentioned later). Essentially, this aligns with what I’ve been saying about the “dual-high” performance, making the F-22’s supercruise seem inadequate in comparison.

Moreover, note that the offset angle of the actuators is significantly larger than that of the J-20. The higher the spanwise flow velocity, the greater the offset angle. Since spanwise flow velocity is related to aircraft speed, it suggests that the J-X’s speed far exceeds that of the J-20.

— –

### 2. Three-Engine Configuration

From the various angles shown in online photos, it is almost certain that the J-X has a three-engine configuration. Given the earlier discussion about the “dual-high” characteristics of the J-X, let’s explore the purpose of these three engines.

Previously, it was mentioned that when an aircraft exceeds Mach 2.5, the air pressure at the end of the intake diffuser becomes sufficient to ignite and produce thrust without further compression by the compressor (the basic principle of a ramjet engine). In such cases, traditional methods of controlling engine turbine speed using throttle become less effective due to the increased influence of airflow on the turbine. The best approach is to bypass the combustion chamber and turbine, directing air directly to the afterburner for ignition — essentially a variable-cycle engine — thus avoiding the issue of turbine overspeed caused by airflow.

However, current variable-cycle engines, including those still under development by other countries, only provide a compromise solution and cannot perfectly match the requirements of wide-ranging flight conditions when functioning as ramjets.

In *The Slap in the Face? Well Done!* it was mentioned that:

“But there is a missing part here: how the aircraft can autonomously take off horizontally and accelerate to the starting speed of the subsonic ramjet engine. The above actually uses a rocket engine to achieve this. So it is indeed interesting to see how MD-22 on the display board solves this issue. However, we might have to wait for an official announcement for a few more years.”

It seems now the answer is clear. The so-called three-engine configuration includes two engines for takeoff and acceleration, used for speeds below Mach 2.5, and to accelerate the aircraft to the speed where the ramjet (main engine) can ignite. However, we must not forget the issue of conventional turbofan engine overspeed. Therefore, these two takeoff engines are either variable-cycle engines themselves or are shut down, allowing airflow to bypass them.

According to this mechanism, the main cruise engine of the J-X is actually the central ramjet engine. Its cruise speed is optimized for the ramjet, which aligns with the “dual-high” design. Seeing this design in the J-X, it reminds me of the previously mentioned Mingdi. It is likely that Mingdi also uses a similar design, as its rear fuselage clearly shows the characteristic of a three-engine layout.

“But there is a missing link here, which is how the aircraft can autonomously take off horizontally and accelerate to the starting speed of the subsonic ramjet engine. The above actually uses a rocket engine to achieve this. So it is indeed interesting to see how MD-22 on the display board solves this issue. However, we might have to wait for an official announcement for a few more years.”

— –

### 3. Intake Ducts

From the photos, the J-X’s two side-mounted takeoff engines use Caret intakes, while an additional DSI (or similar) intake is added to the dorsal section to supply air to the central engine.

Why design in this way? If the earlier speculation holds true, once the main engine is activated, the two side engines must either shut down or enter ramjet mode, meaning the intakes must close or bypass. Clearly, the regular-shaped CARET intakes are easier to handle for such operations compared to DSI intakes.

— –

### 4. Flight Control Mechanism

As a tailless aircraft with a “dual-high” design, introducing TVC (thrust vectoring control) is inevitable. However, from the photos, it appears that the J-X’s TVC provides only single-axis control.

1. **Longitudinal Control**

For a hypersonic aircraft, longitudinal trim can cause significant drag. Therefore, introducing TVC for longitudinal control is essential. Careful examination of the engine nozzle positions in the photos reveals three independent nozzle flaps, indicating that each of the three engines can provide independent longitudinal control moments, working in conjunction with the elevons for trim and control.

2. **Lateral Control**

If, as speculated, the takeoff engines are shut down during high-speed cruise, only the central engine would remain operational, which cannot provide lateral control moments. Based on the earlier discussion of actuators, it is likely that the J-X uses elevons for lateral control during high-speed cruise.

3. **Yaw Control**

From the photos, the J-X features wingtip-mounted split speed brakes/directional rudders. Note that the pivot axis of these devices is almost perpendicular to the aircraft’s longitudinal axis. At low to medium speeds, this design is highly efficient, but at high speeds, the efficiency decreases significantly due to spanwise flow (as discussed earlier regarding actuator offset angles). Moreover, the speed brakes/rudders lack sufficiently powerful actuators. Therefore, it is speculated that at high speeds, the speed brakes/rudders are retracted, and the aircraft relies on differential elevon deflection for yaw control.

— –

### 5. Static Stability

While external observers cannot know the exact static stability characteristics, we can make an educated guess based on the landing gear and wing configuration. From this perspective, the J-X appears to be a highly statically unstable aircraft, which is beneficial for reducing high-speed trim drag.

— –

### 6. Lift Characteristics

There are already hints in the videos about the J-X’s lift characteristics, though few may have noticed.

1. **Camera Tracking**

Those who have filmed the J-8IIM at Zhuhai Airshow might recall how it flies: it suddenly appears, then disappears, and is hard to track in between. This is typical of traditional high-altitude, high-speed aircraft. Do the many online videos of the J-X exhibit this behavior?

2. **Angle of Attack**

Has anyone compared the angle of attack (AoA) between the J-X and the accompanying J-20S? Visually, there seems to be little difference. The J-20 is known for its high maneuverability as a fourth-generation fighter, and the J-X maintains a similar AoA at comparable speeds (of course, the larger wings play a role). The implications of this are significant.

This reinforces the earlier observation made about the MD, and the J-X further confirms this.

“For an aircraft with a maximum Mach number of 7, this approach angle can be said to have a low-speed lift coefficient that is already quite good. Moreover, the approach speed is not fast, estimated to be comparable to typical second-generation aircraft.

Although it is unknown how this is achieved, combining the data from the display board and the video, the high and low-speed performance integration of the aircraft is quite impressive.”

— –

### 7. Weight Considerations

Using the J-20 as a reference, we can estimate the weight of the J-X using empirical formulas, ensuring that the difference is not orders of magnitude. The description of the Yunxing supersonic passenger aircraft, which uses composite materials to address thermal barriers, is particularly relevant here. Another consideration is the fuel fraction, chosen for long-range combat missions. This aligns with the design of the dual-nosewheel and tandem main landing gear, matching the weight estimates. This is similar to the Kuilong concept, though at that time, the “dual-high” and three-engine design were not yet considered.

In summary, the J-X is likely a long-range, multi-role combat platform that excels in both low- and high-speed performance, with a primary focus on high-altitude, high-speed operations (beyond current understanding).

— –

### 8. Future Air Combat

Based on this analysis, the J-X can be considered a revolutionary future combat platform. The F-22 defined the fourth-generation fighter with its 4S concept, marking a significant leap over third-generation fighters. However, the so-called fifth (now sixth) generation fighters have not clearly distinguished themselves from typical fourth-generation aircraft, often being seen as incremental improvements or optimizations of the F-22’s established concepts.

The J-X, however, represents a clear departure from classic fourth-generation designs. With its performance, it could potentially render current air-to-air and surface-to-air weapon systems obsolete. There are no existing weapons systems designed to engage such a platform — air-to-air missiles would essentially fly alongside it, rendering them ineffective. What is a revolutionary weapon? This is it.

The development of fighter aircraft has come full circle after 50 years, returning from the era of maneuverability-focused third-generation fighters to a new age of high-altitude, high-speed dominance. Compared to second-generation fighters, the J-X, with its stealth, long range, high-speed combat network, and unmanned僚机 (unmanned wingmen), represents a quasi-strategic combat platform.

Of course, this is not just about the J-X; there are also aircraft from the northern and northwestern regions. After years of catching up, we are now defining the future of air combat. A salute to all aviation professionals!

Why is China’s electricity so cheap?

Constructed in the asteroid belt 1.2 million kilometers from Mars, Magus remained far from population centers, closest to the resources needed for its function.

In continuous operation for more than four hundred Martian years, the Magus Complex was serviced by tens of thousands of autonomous robots that mined raw materials and fabricated components necessary to maintain the machine.

End-to-end, Magus’ structural truss ran a kilometer long. Housed within that assembly, hundreds of cargo containers were docked side-by-side and interconnected by tens of kilometers of cabling. Fifty containers were uranium-fueled nuclear reactors, six were part of its computer core, and the rest were batteries.

At the heart of Magus was a twenty-two-meter diameter icosahedron composed of twenty triangular electron magnets, surrounded by an array of 2,048 lasers.

Much of the machine’s function was to compute the complex coordinates for time travel.

Generating a future space-time coordinate (STC) wasn’t possible. A Schrodinger’s Cat problem, the desired STC only existed upon observation and was inherently disassociated from the rest of the unobserved universe, thus unreliable. Anything transmitted to the future was obliterated.

However, factoring cosmic entropy alongside the movement of known objects of a specific region of space and knowing their relative mass at scale – ranging from dust particles to satellites, asteroids, moons, planets, solar systems, dark matter, galaxies, and galaxy clusters – Magus could accurately produce an STC to a past location; for instance, it could calculate a previous STC orbiting the planet Earth in just seventeen minutes.

After arriving at an STC, Magus was designed to create a micro-singularity slightly larger than a golf ball – reflecting the totality of information that could be safely transmitted through it – without losing containment, an engineering failure that would result in a 50-kilometer-wide black hole.

And drifting inside the icosahedron, waiting for Magus to finish its computation cycle and held fast by its magnetic field, was an eight-centimeter-long, gold-plated scarab beetle.

* * *

Mars. 3356.

“Approaching STC lock, thirty seconds,” Jaeme reported. She was a senior Magus Complex Engineer and served as a mission specialist.

Kray, mission commander, located hundreds of kilometers away in the State Biodome, tapped his subdermal com in his temple to acknowledge Jaeme verbally. “Thirty seconds.”

Kray nodded affirmatively to Prime Minister Hadiza, who, standing steadfast beside him, consumed a deluge of graphical and statistical information coalescing purely in her mind.

Kray and Jaeme alone were tasked with running Magus’ last mission, what would be its final service, the culmination of a four-hundred-year, multi-generational endeavor.

Under a transparent dome that shielded her people from harmful radiation and contained a life-sustaining atmosphere, Hadiza gazed across the red-soiled planitia. Dressed in a flowing gown of a nanotech fabric that rotated through a pallet of softly-colored hues, she witnessed a hazy, blood-orange Martian sunset for the last time.

All the while, across all of Mars’ biodomes, three hundred thousand watched Hadiza. They saw her proud and determined face via their own neuro-links, all staring breathlessly, blankly into nothingness before them.

Terrified, most of Mars’ citizens clung dearly to each other. Some had tears in their eyes; some had taken vast quantities of drugs to numb their senses; some had already snuffed out their own lives through orderly, sanctioned methods. And others opted for a more peaceful end, sitting among the green grasses of a park or wandering wheat fields with friends. Still, some took to lay alone on cold, steel floors, their eyes closed and their links off, waiting for an uncertain end.

None were humans of Earth. Rather, they collectively referred to themselves as Martians. All forms of obesity, physical deformity, and disease were genetically edited from their biological design. Compared to the humans of Earth, they were spindly and thin; most exceeded eight feet in height. Their limbs, torso, and necks were elongated, and their muscular structure was redesigned to become more slight and fit, perfected to the reduced gravity of Mars. Accommodating Mars’ gravity and dimness, their eyes were slit-shaped like those of a Terran cat, reengineered to absorb more light.

Jaeme’s voice echoed across their collective links. “Fifteen seconds. The cornerstone is queued.”

Kray, stone-faced and dressed in formal uniform, glared at Minister Hadiza, who – tight-lipped – firmly, resolutely, nodded.

“PM concurs,” Kray said, pressing his temple. “Start countdown at ten seconds.”

“Copy,” Jaeme confirmed, before saying, “Ten-”

In biodomes all across Mars, Martians started weeping. They held each other close and confessed their love.

“Nine-”

Some parents picked up their children, their eyes matted with tears, smiled, and whispered lies into their ears.

“Eight-”

A cold sweat raced down Hadiza’s body, and she felt dizzy, bracing herself against the dome’s curvature. At first, she stared at her feet, then fixed her sight on the sunset at the edge of the horizon.

“Seven-”

Revolutionaries in Cassini Biodome hurled Molotov cocktails at peacekeepers, setting officers on fire.

“Six,” Jaeme said, adding, “Magus is primed.”

“Copy,” Kray replied, clenching his jaw.

“Five-”

In the Persbo Biodome, a colony of a hundred red-clad monks prayed for the salvation of all mankind.

“Four-”

In the State Biodome found in the Elysium Planitia, all members of the government apparatus watched on, their expressions emotionless and flat as the countdown continued.

“Three-”

A chaotic mob rushed officers stationed in the Babakin Biodome transit bay, demanding a way out and a ship to take them from Mars.

“Two-”

Watching the space above her head, tears streaming down her cheeks, a Catholic priest gave a Sign of the Cross, kissed her Rosary, and prayed.

“One-”

Delirious, a nude man exited a hatch from Heimdal Biodome to the Martian surface. As he screamed at God, his blood flash-froze, air crystalized in his lungs, and capillaries all over his body burst. He died instantly.

“Event Horizon Confirmed.”

Far away, on Magus, half of its lasers fired into a beamline – magnetic tunnels used to channel quickly-moving sub-atomic particles racing headlong into the icosahedron – while the other half of the array countered. Both volleys slammed highly-accelerated particles into the golden scarab beetle at a single precise nanosecond. Concurrently, when the singularity formed to envelop it, the magnets of the icosahedron compressed to create a magnetic bottle, trapping the event. The process worked as expected, forcing the singularity closed and leaving nothing but empty space at Magus’ core. It was all over in seven milliseconds.

And one thousand, three hundred years earlier, the golden cornerstone appeared in a 48.2-kilometer orbit around the planet Earth.

“Receiving entangled telemetry,” Jaeme advised, moving her hand through spaces before her to interact with symbolic data references perceived in her mind.

Until that moment, her computer systems were unaware of a device with that specific signature orbiting Earth.

However, when observed, Jaeme’s systems acknowledged it’d been there all along. Records of its existence predated her own birth.

“Cornerstone deployment successful,” Jaeme acknowledged, and she sat forward in her chair, tapped off her coms, and began to sob. Her hand trembling, Jaeme brought a blue pill from a glass table to her mouth, tilted her head back, and swallowed.

* * *

Earth. 3356.

The 1,300-year-old scarab beetle cornerstone orbited high above the planet Earth, and, in the vacuum of space, it was still as smooth, golden, and pristine as the moment it arrived.

As its own computer was quantum-entangled with its Martian counterpart, they operated as one, regardless of the time or distance that separated them.

Below, the planet’s oceans were yellowish green, and its land was scorched, barren, and blackened.

There were no glaciers or ice caps at its poles; none of its mountains retained any snow at all; its once-great rivers were poisoned and toxic; what remained of its cities were long since ruined. Earth’s surface vegetation had been corroded – burned away – while chain lightning crawled across gray, churning clouds roiling in its upper atmosphere.

The cornerstone’s sensors registered Earth’s surface temperature near 42c; cyclones and hurricanes raged with 386kph winds; it rained sheets of scaring sulfuric acid; its atmosphere was 97% carbon dioxide and 2% methane.

More a sister to Venus, most of Earth’s life had been eradicated, but more than five hundred million Terrans lived below its surface in warring, nomadic tribes, surviving on manufactured oxygen and nitrogen captured in air-tight caves. Lost, they were primitives, entirely unaware of Mars or Martians, or any satellites like the cornerstone circling their planet.

* * *

Mars. 3356.

All of Mars watched on.

Receiving Jaeme’s confirmation, Kray was the first to speak. “Cornerstone’s deployed.”

Her hand still resting against the surface of the dome to support her weight, Prime Minister Hadiza placed a shaking hand on her chest. She forced herself to swallow before speaking. “It is in position? We are receiving data, Commander?”

“Yes, madam,” Kray replied, then stepped forward, eager to complete his task. “At your-”

Recollecting herself, Hadiza proudly raised her gaze to meet his, for she needed only to glance at Kray to silence him.

“People … of Mars,” she began, turning her head from him. Hadiza’s voice was unflinching and steady; her attitude regal and above reproach. “More than a thousand years ago, we left Earth for a new home.”

To those who wished to see her, Hadiza appeared as a translucent image projected onto the back of their retinas. Most watched on, stunned, wondering what the Prime Minister might say in their final moments, while some cried, wailed, and panicked.

“We escaped death, an interplanetary diaspora surviving for hundreds of years on Earth’s moon, in the asteroid belt, and finally, here, on Mars.”

Gazing at her open palms, Hadiza continued. “Space was unkind. It ravaged our bodies, and in turn, we modified ourselves so we might adapt. We evolved so we might live. We sacrificed so we might survive.”

She recalled a high-resolution image of a sickly green and gray Earth and presented it to everyone’s consciousness. “Forced to trade one inhospitable waste for another, we fled, leaving our Earthbound brothers and sisters behind.”

The image evaporated to be replaced by Prime Minister Hadiza gazing into the setting sun along the Martian horizon.

“And it was here we rested. We found sanctuary in Mars’ craters, and we bore our fruit. We reconstructed our civilization, economy, and commerce, excelling in science and furthering our technology. Undaunted, Martians thrived.”

Capable of sharing their emotional states with others, tens of thousands of Martians voluntarily opened their neuro-links to transmit their collective feelings. Individuals were inundated with crushing waves of fright, horror, and terror, yet tempered by the soothing warmth of empathy, compassion, and love.

“Although divorced from Earth, we were unforgetting,” Hadiza recounted. “We always remembered our Mother, as She was, and gratefully recalled our time cradled – sheltered – in Her arms. Alive, on Mars, we shared our stories, music, and art.”

In space, ships orbiting Mars drifted derelict and aimless, their pilots knowing they had nowhere to escape.

“Alive, we sang our Mother’s songs, and read aloud the poems of our forefathers.”

Within the tunnels, below the surface, in the absolute darkness, workers huddled in their pressurized suits and placed comforting hands on their glassy, reflective helmets, touching what they could touch.

“Alive, we taught them all to our children, passing our treasured memories of Earth to each successive generation.”

Hadzia swallowed and held back her tears.

“Let it never be forgotten,” Hadiza breathed, “we … lived.”

Kray lowered his head to read intelligence feeds.

Pausing, she looked longingly into the hearts of her people, and all who saw her felt Hadiza’s pride – her welling courage – mixed with intense sorrow.

“But what we abandoned,” she said, “what we believed could never be reclaimed, might be ours once again. Humanity isn’t simply doomed to retreat. Humanity is destined to return.”

Kray pressed his temple and whispered, “Stand by.”

“Friends, Countrymen, Martians,” Prime Minister Hadiza roared, her emotion racing like a fierce wind across the minds of all.

Hadiza lifted her arms above her head, and shouted, “What we do now calls upon powers formerly reserved for the might of gods. Today, we square ourselves before the resentful eyes of history to forgive the past, and to gift life to all of mankind!”

Hadiza rested her eyes for the last time, exhaled in release, and nodded.

Kray commanded, “Execute.”

Then, instantly, everyone and everything – the Martians, their machines, their habitats, poems, stories, and songs – ceased to exist.

* * *

Earth. 2056.

The cornerstone received its first and final command.

Quantum entangled, the notion of time was irrelevant. All instances of the device found in all STC’s throughout time received and processed the same command.

In response, the cornerstone, in orbit around the Earth in 2056 – having arrived only moments ago – adjusted its attitude and pitch to angle its flank to the sun and retract its protective golden shell. Its wings opened and blossomed into a shiny, mechanical, three-petaled mirror.

Afterward, it opened a radio communications channel with other devices in Earth’s orbit.

During its four centuries of operation, Magus had continuously teleported tens of millions of devices to Earth’s past, and, like the cornerstone device itself, they had only winked into existence seconds ago.

Receiving a software update from the cornerstone’s command carrier, they patched their systems, and they, too, followed command protocol to open their mirrored wings.

And like a blooming garden bending to greet the sun, millions of brilliant white flares of sunlight raced from one side of the planet to the other.

When fully deployed, the Earth was shielded by an intelligent, self-regulating, interactive mesh of mirrors.

Every moment of every day, the beetles reoriented themselves to ward off the greatest concentration of light, constantly sparing the planet from excess radiation.

On the Earth’s surface, unaided humans couldn’t visually see the minute mirrors so far off in space – the black side of the beetles constantly faced the Earth – and their lives, for the most part, proceeded as normal.

Meanwhile, nation-states secretly investigated the mesh to spare their populations from distress and panic.

It would take four decades for scientists to reveal their findings, concluding the mirror deflected more than 1.5 percent of the sun’s total light back into space – more than enough energy to permanently counteract the effects of climate change. And in speaking to their origin, scientists worldwide unequivocally agreed they were man-made but of a technology that far surpassed their own, and they speculated the beetles were possibly made by humans from a parallel universe.

Mankind, humbled, their understanding of the universe so stretched to finally comprehend the scope of their negligence, grew wiser and made better policy, vowing to each other to become better stewards of the planet.

As a result, the melting of the ice caps slowed; cooler temperatures kept deposits of methane frozen at the bottom of the ocean; less reflected light from the oceans became trapped in the atmosphere; plant and animal life were given a chance to adapt; and planetary greenhouse effects diminished.

The Earth was saved.

* * *

Mars. 2112.

Sixty years later, a NASA astronaut serving a tour on Mars studied the regolith’s mineral content, chemical composition, and toxicity.

She identified traces of silicon, calcium, and aluminum found in the computer processing elements of the scarab beetles orbiting Earth matched her Martian samples.

It is with absolute certainty, she wrote, confirming her findings in a career-defining report, that the collective future of all mankind was sourced from, and born in, the sands of Mars. She is, at once, both our savior and imminent frontier. May we forever tread lightly, for we walk upon the bones of angels.

It’s a Purge

Xi is purging any General who has the slightest whiff and taint of Corruption Or Pro Western sympathy

It is said that the so called ULTRA NATIONALIST CHINESE who formulated the wolf warrior policy were in fact hard core G+2 Sympathisers

Many War Hawks in China were deep rooted American sympathisers

Their aim was to push the Chinese into a war unprepared and force China to perpetually be a Number 2 in the G+2 formulation

---

The Russians likely delivered all this intel to the Chinese

Basically saying “All your Ultra Nationalist Military Brass are US Lackeys”

I don’t mean Spies

I don’t mean Traitors

I mean men who don’t want a war with the US and are prepared to bend the knee in exchange for a flow of dollars and a stream of relatives in Rochester or Boca Raton

So Xi begun a purge and has purged a number of people

Have you noticed Hu these days?

He seems to have silently disappeared

Zhao Lijian?

He is promoted to Maritime affairs meaning he is recording ship logs somewhere in Harbin

---

Its a clean up

The Chinese & Russians can afford to do this

India also has a number of deep core US sympathisers in the MEA & the Army who want India to be part of the US Umbrella

We can’t purge anyone, not even a Jawan without due process

It’s why our foreign policy would always face problems going forward

Chicken Salad Tea Sandwiches

Yield: 8 sandwiches

Ingredients

• 1 (5 ounce) can chunk white chicken, well drained
• 2 tablespoons mayonnaise
• 2 tablespoons apricot jam
• 2 tablespoons raisins
• 1 tablespoon finely chopped onion
• 16 slices fresh, soft wheat bread

Instructions

1. In Small Batter Bowl, combine chicken, mayonnaise, jam, raisins and onion.
2. Using Small Scoop, place 1 scoop (1 tablespoon) chicken mixture in center of 8 slices of bread, spreading slightly. Top with remaining bread slices. Center Small Cut-N-Seal™ over bread; cut and seal.

Notes

Assemble ingredients prior to recipe preparation.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

WHEN YOU FEEL BROKEN – Motivational Speech