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Porkchop became a local legend for his hay bale prowess

The timber production of Alaska has ranged from 38 to 300 million board feet per year over the last decade. That’s million with an “M”. Meanwhile Canada produces an average of 20 billion board feet of timber per year. That’s billion with a “B” — and most of it goes to the US to build houses.

In reality, Canada is bigger than the entire US never mind Alaska, 40% of it is covered by forests, and it has 40% of the world’s boreal forests. Most of the other 60% of the northern boreal forests are in Russia and Northern Europe, with only a miniscule fraction of it in Alaska. Lumber now only accounts for 1.6% of Alaska’s economy, and their biggest resource is their rapidly depleting oil fields.

Most Americans are not aware of the sheer scale of Canada’s vast natural resources, especially not Donald Trump. He said, “Canada has been ripping us off for years on lumber,” but his definition of “ripping off” means selling it to consumers cheaper rather than at the same price as American lumber, since it really doesn’t cost anything to grow. His basic economic understanding is only exceeded by his charm and good looks.

Canada has about 10,000 trees per person, and cuts less than 1% of them every year, meaning it will never run out since new trees are growing faster than they are being cut. If you don’t cut them, they just keep getting bigger and scattering seeds to grow new trees. Where I live, I can just stand back and watch them pop out of the ground, and 40 years later they are 3 times as tall as my house.

Donald Trump’s executive orders remind me of the story of King Knute who sat on the beach in England and commanded the tide not to come in. At least in that case it was only Knute who got his feet wet. Americans will get their whole bodies wet waiting for those Alaska trees to grow so they can have a roof over their heads.

Yes

I had a patient with severe constipation . He complained as if he had knives in his rectum.

He had already been to a doctor and had a prescription for laxative suppositories. These usually work fairly quickly to relieve constipation.

Yet this man was still constipated and in pain.

So, I did a rectal exam to see if I could find out what was bothering him.

At that time, the suppositories were wrapped in aluminum foil. And that was exactly how she had applied all 6 suppositories, with the foil still attached.

Two of them were still connected to each other (as in the figure above).

As soon as one of the suppositories was inserted * without * the wrapper, it worked. Amazing.

We asked why he had inserted the suppository with the film, and his response was ” I was not told to remove it .”

I don’t know why anyone would take a medicine wrapped in tin foil up their butt…

Sir Whiskerton and the Great Farm Olympics: A Tale of Hay Bales, Hilarity, and Heroic Hijinks

Ah, dear reader, prepare yourself for a tale so absurd, so brimming with wit and whimsy, that even the most stoic of barnyard animals might find themselves rolling in the hay with laughter. Today’s story is one of competition, camaraderie, and one cat’s quest to lead his farm to victory in the most ridiculous Olympic games ever conceived. So, grab your popcorn (or perhaps a carrot, if you’re feeling particularly herbivorous) and join us as we dive into Sir Whiskerton and the Great Farm Olympics: A Tale of Hay Bales, Hilarity, and Heroic Hijinks.


The Challenge

It all began on a sunny morning, the kind of day where the sky was so blue it looked like it had been painted by an overenthusiastic artist. Sir Whiskerton, the farm’s self-appointed detective and philosopher, was lounging on his favorite sunbeam, pondering the mysteries of the universe—or at least why the farmer insisted on wearing a straw hat indoors.

“Perhaps,” Sir Whiskerton mused aloud, “the farmer is preparing for a sudden indoor haystorm. Or perhaps he’s just fashionably confused.”

“Confused!” echoed Ditto, the ever-enthusiastic kitten, who had taken to repeating Sir Whiskerton’s words with the precision of a broken record player.

But the tranquility was shattered by the arrival of a messenger crow from Bigcat’s farm. The crow, looking rather smug, dropped a scroll at Sir Whiskerton’s paws and cawed, “You’ve been challenged!”

Sir Whiskerton unfurled the scroll, his monocle glinting in the sunlight. “The Great Farm Olympics?” he read aloud. “A series of farm-themed athletic events to determine which farm is the greatest? Well, this is… unexpected.”

The scroll went on to list a series of bizarre events, including hay bale hurling, piglet obstacle courses, and synchronized sheep shearing. The neighboring farms—Bigcat’s and Catnip’s—had joined forces to challenge Sir Whiskerton’s farm to this ridiculous competition.

Doris the Hen, ever the drama queen, flapped her wings in alarm. “This is an outrage! We’re not athletes—we’re farm animals! What’s next? Competitive napping?”

“Napping!” Ditto echoed, though he seemed to be practicing for that event already.

Sir Whiskerton, however, saw an opportunity. “This could be a chance to prove our farm’s superiority,” he said, his tail twitching with excitement. “But we’ll need to train. And by ‘we,’ I mean everyone.”


Training Montage: Farmyard Style

And so, the training began. Sir Whiskerton, ever the strategist, divided the animals into teams based on their strengths—or, in some cases, their willingness to participate.

Hay Bale Hurling: Porkchop the Pig, with his impressive bulk, was a natural for this event. “Just imagine the hay bale is a giant marshmallow,” Sir Whiskerton advised.

“Marshmallow!” Ditto echoed, though he seemed to be trying to eat an actual hay bale.

Porkchop gave it his all, hurling hay bales with the force of a pig possessed. Unfortunately, one hay bale landed in the pond, startling the yodeling fish and causing them to harmonize in panic.

Piglet Obstacle Course: The piglets, led by the ever-enthusiastic Hamlet, were thrilled to participate. “This is the best day ever!” Hamlet squealed as he waddled through a series of tires, tunnels, and mud pits.

“Ever!” Ditto echoed, though he seemed to be stuck in a tire.

Synchronized Sheep Shearing: Bessie the Tie-Dye Cow, despite not being a sheep, volunteered to choreograph this event. “It’s all about the vibes, man,” she said, her mood ring glowing a serene shade of blue. “Just feel the rhythm of the shears.”

The sheep, however, were less enthusiastic. “Do we have to?” asked one particularly woolly ewe. “I just got my fleece how I like it.”

Egg-and-Spoon Race: Doris the Hen, though initially skeptical, found her competitive spirit. “I may not be an athlete,” she declared, “but no one balances an egg on a spoon like I do!”

“Spoon!” Ditto echoed, though he seemed to be using it as a catapult.


The Great Farm Olympics

The day of the competition arrived, and the farm was abuzz with excitement. Bigcat’s farm and Catnip’s farm had arrived in full force, their animals decked out in matching uniforms and looking far too serious for a bunch of creatures who spent most of their time eating and napping.

The events began with Hay Bale Hurling. Porkchop stepped up to the plate, his eyes narrowed in determination. With a mighty heave, he launched a hay bale into the air—only for it to land directly on Bigcat’s head. The massive feline emerged from the hay, looking less than pleased. “This is an outrage!” he roared.

“Outrage!” Ditto echoed, though he seemed to be enjoying the chaos.

Next was the Piglet Obstacle Course. Hamlet and his siblings waddled through the course with surprising agility, though one piglet got distracted by a particularly tasty-looking mud puddle. “Priorities!” Sir Whiskerton called out, though the piglet was already knee-deep in mud.

The Synchronized Sheep Shearing was a sight to behold. Bessie’s choreography was flawless, and the sheep, though reluctant, performed admirably. The judges, however, were unimpressed. “Too much wool,” one grumbled. “Not enough pizzazz.”

Finally, the Egg-and-Spoon Race began. Doris, her egg balanced precariously on her spoon, raced across the finish line with the grace of a… well, a very determined hen. She crossed the finish line just as Catnip’s team dropped their egg, resulting in a dramatic yolk explosion.


The Moral of the Story

As the competition came to a close, Sir Whiskerton gathered the animals for a final reflection. “We may not have won every event,” he said, “but we proved that teamwork, creativity, and a little bit of absurdity can go a long way.”

Bigcat, though initially furious, begrudgingly admitted defeat. “Your farm may be ridiculous,” he said, “but you’ve got spirit. I’ll give you that.”

Catnip, ever the trickster, simply smirked. “Until next time, Sir Whiskerton.”

The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: Life is too short to take seriously. Whether you’re hurling hay bales, waddling through mud, or balancing eggs on spoons, the real victory is in the laughter and camaraderie along the way.


A Happy Ending

With the Great Farm Olympics behind them, the animals returned to their usual routines—albeit with a few new stories to tell. Porkchop became a local legend for his hay bale prowess, Doris started a farmyard fitness class, and Bessie began composing a symphony inspired by the synchronized shearing.

Sir Whiskerton returned to his sunbeam, content in the knowledge that he had once again saved the day. The farm was at peace, the air was filled with laughter, and all was right in the world.

And so, dear reader, we leave our heroes with the promise of new adventures, new challenges, and hopefully, no more hay bales to the face. Until next time, may your days be filled with laughter, love, and just a little bit of feline genius.

The End.

I applied for this really cool temporary position with Cold Spring Harbor, a research institution, right as I was graduating with my PhD. The job was two years long, and the project was to write a book. (!!!) They wanted a book called “The 100 year history of biotechnology at cold spring harbor” or something like that.

I applied in July when I saw the ad. I got a call a few weeks later and the woman in charge of the project interviewed me over Skype. I’d never done that before, and it was exciting to use video technology in that way. This was in back in 2011. The job was in New York on their research campus and I was living in Denver. So, there was a two year temporary commute or relocation to consider.

There wasn’t much of a budget for expenses, but she assured me that all my research for the book could be done over the phone and by Skype. I basically would have to track down and interview scientists who could speak about the work done there over the last 100 years.

I was a bit disappointed that I wasn’t going to fly around to interview people, but I got over it quickly and I was excited to take the job if she offered it to me.

Months passed.

Late November, 4 months after I interviewed, she called me back and wanted a second interview. Um, ok. I was still unemployed so I was eager that this was still an option.

On the Skype call, she said the job was mine and asked when I could start. It certainly seemed like they weren’t in a rush since they took 4 months to hire. I said something about starting the following week remotely, or starting on campus in New York in January. We were days away from American Thanksgiving and I had little chance of getting a lot of book research done with people traveling for the holidays. It seemed smart to start fresh in the beginning of the year.

She insisted that I meet her in her office on the following Monday.

I thought she misunderstood. I reminded her that I lived in Denver Colorado and with the upcoming holiday (where I was hosting family) I couldn’t just leave the state on a few days notice.

She responded flatly, “Well, some people could be in my office on Monday.”

Because this was Skype, I got to see my face twist into an expression that I privately heralded as priceless. My response was, “Well, then maybe you should hire those people for this job.”

As suddenly she wasn’t talking to me anymore. She was talking to herself. She flew into a frenzy and complained about how she had already spent a huge amount of this budget and she was on the hook to get this project done and blah blah….

I realized this was not my dream job. This was a nightmare that I almost stepped into. This woman had probably already hired someone in July. They probably quit in a frustrated rage and left her to scramble another writer into place. I was supposed to pick up seamlessly from the tatters of that failed relationship.

I thanked her for her time and risked my own offer back to her. I said, if I can start in January and have two full years to finish the project, I’m yours.

I never heard back from her.

Just about everyone complains about similar problems, so what I say here probably won’t come as a surprise to many people.

Here are the worst things about living in Mexico City:

  1. Traffic: it’s absolutely horrendous during peak hours. If you need to go to a neighborhood far from you, it’s best to leave extra time.
  2. Cost-of-living: yes, even us foreigners think that some things here cost an insane amount compared to other parts of Mexico. If you want to live in an exclusive neighborhood in Mexico City like Condesa, Roma Norte, or Polanco, you will shell out an inordinate amount of money for an apartment or home that is not as nice as you could get in other parts of the city. However, people will often do so, so that they don’t have to deal with traffic or other unpleasant aspects of living in Mexico City.
  3. Pollution: you can count on the air quality being terrible several times a week. Just living here probably shaves some years off of your life.
  4. Noise: there are probably quiet parts of Mexico City, since it is so large, but those areas are probably far from the city center.
  5. Lack of green space: technically there is Bosque Chapultepec (Chapultepec forest), but it is relatively small considering the size of Mexico City. However, a positive here is that you can go a few kilometers outside of the city and you are practically in the wilderness.
  6. Prone to earthquakes: your house will probably do the shimmy a few times a week. This isn’t particularly bad, but you’re always aware that a big one may hit and you just have to hope your building was built up to code.
  7. Mexico City is walkable, but not that walkable: you can technically cross vast areas of the city just by going on foot. The problem is that the sidewalk is really fucked up in a lot of places (I’m currently recovering from an ankle sprain due to a crack in the sidewalk). People driving cars sometimes behave as if pedestrians aren’t a thing and you’ll nearly be struck by a car several times a week.
  8. Mexico City is a global city, but it’s not incredibly diverse. Unlike New York City, Paris, or London; Mexico City has relatively few foreigners. You will stand out less in Mexico City than some other parts of Mexico if you clearly look like a foreigner, but you’ll still obviously look like a foreigner. Most people don’t care that you are a foreigner, but a few will.

(Mexico City sidewalks. Image source: Natural Walking Cities).

Nicest and rudist

**Rudest:** After working in Hollywood for seven years, I can’t say there was one person who was always rude. Some people were rude sometimes, but I always tried to remember that everyone is human. The few interactions that hurt the most made me think I might have had some part in it too. I’ve learned it’s better to just move on and let it go.

**Nicest:** That would probably be John Travolta. He was getting an award, and I was asked to help him on a remote island. I was there to act as his go-between with the locals. At the time, I worked in PR, so I was just an assistant, but I was also a certified and experienced security guard, so I was the only person sent to help him.

We had to take a cab, since it was a small island. By the end of the ride, John knew the names of the driver’s kids, and had her talking about her dreams and goals. He even learned a few words in her language and thanked her with a hug. It really stuck with me how much he truly liked people. He was like that all the time. If anyone ever tried to hurt him, I’m sure the people around him would rush to protect him because he was so friendly and well-liked.

EX GIRLFRIEND SUED Him for Half of His Assets and It Backfired

I am an Indian and I was traveling from Dallas, TX, USA to Singapore with a layover in Dubai, UAE. Emirates has this scheme if you have a layover of more than 8 hours in Dubai (Economy), you can get free hotel stay and UAE visa for the layover period. Presuming I would be severely jet-lagged I opted for it.

I was having lunch at the hotel and one of my co-passengers, who was a US citizen, asked me if she could join me. We were making small talks and she asked me what do I do. I told her I am a PhD student in Electrical Engineering in Singapore and I was in the US for a conference. We talked in general about places to see in Dubai, how electrical power is reliable in the US, and something about her mother’s town facing a power outage for two days because of some natural calamity.

After I came with a fresh plate of serving, she asks where I am from and what religion do I practice. I told her I am from India and am a Hindu. And then she asks, do I practice Voo-doo. I was flabbergasted and said no. Then she went on saying that she met an Indian once and that person practiced Voo-doo. I said it could be possible, it is a country of 1.25 billion people and some of them may practice Voo-doo. She seemed convinced that I was lying and not telling her about my Voo-doo sessions. By her body language and conversation, it seemed to me that she believed all Hindus practiced Voo-doo. I was quite taken aback by this whole conversation, but didn’t want to seem impolite and didn’t want to help her form another stereotype. After a few more bites, I said my good-byes to her and wished her well for her stay in Dubai.

This was in 2014 and the lady was college educated and lived in Dallas.

Deep-Fried Turkey

48a300701b448979c4966952b6ff176f
48a300701b448979c4966952b6ff176f

Yield: 10 to 12 servings

Ingredients

  • 1 (10 to 12 pound) turkey
  • 2 teaspoons salt
  • 2 teaspoons pepper
  • 1 teaspoon cayenne pepper
  • 4 to 5 gallons peanut oil

Instructions

  1. Rinse and dry turkey.
  2. Remove neck and giblet bag from small cavity in front and the large body cavity.
  3. Generously season inside cavity with salt and pepper. Use as much cayenne pepper as taste buds will allow.
  4. Heat oil in cooking pot large enough to submerse turkey in hot oil.
  5. Heat oil to 350 degrees F to 375 degrees F.
  6. When oil is hot, using a sling of strong twine or a lifter, lower turkey into hot oil.
  7. Cook about 5 minutes per pound or until meat thermometer inserted in thickest part of thigh reaches 180 degrees F.

This is from the internet:

In general, businesses in the US are not federally mandated to allow customers to use their restrooms, but state and local laws may dictate otherwise, particularly for businesses of a certain size or those serving the public.

No Federal Law:

There isn’t a federal law requiring businesses to provide restrooms for customers or visitors

State and Local Laws:

Many states and local jurisdictions have their own regulations regarding restroom access, especially for businesses that serve the public

Restroom Access Acts:

Some states have adopted “Restroom Access Acts” (also known as Ally’s Law) to ensure people with certain medical conditions have access to employee restrooms when public restrooms are unavailable

OSHA Requirements:

OSHA (Occupational Safety and Health Administration) mandates that employers provide restrooms for employees, ensuring convenient and immediate access

Building Codes:

State building codes typically require restrooms in buildings, and all occupants, including customers, must be allowed to use them

Examples:

Restaurants are generally required to have restrooms for customers, but the specific regulations can vary depending on local ordinances and the type of establishment

Enforcement:

The enforcement of restroom access laws varies depending on the specific jurisdiction and the type of law

What a Night

Submitted into Contest #289 in response to: Your character is getting changed in the bathroom of a nightclub or restaurant, then emerges looking completely different. Why? view prompt

Jan Keifer

  The alarm clock was blasting a rock and roll classic from the seventies era, as I groaned and rolled over to silence the noise. My head was spinning and I was out of sorts. My friends had talked me into going out the night before to celebrate my birthday. Being a bartender, I should have known better. The downtown area had a strip of bars and nightclubs and we started at the first one on the block. We would buy a round of drinks and when they were gone, we would head to the next club or bar. I don’t remember much after the fourth bar. I jumped out of bed, ran to the closet and grabbed the only suit I owned. I shook it vigorously to try and get rid of the wrinkles and headed out the door. I got to the restaurant that I worked at and slipped into the bathroom before my boss could see that I was on the edge of being late again. I locked myself into a stall, hung my suit on the hook on the door and sat down to relieve myself. I took off my clothes as I was sitting there and grabbed my suit down off the hook.The bathroom consisted of three stalls on one wall, the bathroom mirror on the opposite wall and two urinals on the wall opposite the door to encourage us to wash our hands on our way out of the bathroom. I heard the door open a few times as my coworkers came and went. I changed into my suit and ran my deodorant, that I keep in my suit pockets for emergencies, under my armpits and up and down my body to cover up the fact that I had not showered this morning. I pulled my electric razor out of another pocket and ran it across my stubble. It is not the first time I have found myself in this predicament, so I always keep my suit pockets filled with emergency toiletry items. I finished my business and opened the door to exit when I saw the creature. I quickly slammed the door again. There was a green-scaly creature in the mirror. It had looked straight at me. I was in full panic mode now. I listened with my ear pressed against the door. I heard the door open and shut and heard some men talking and urinating. The door opened and shut again and then there was silence. I could hear my heart beating. I could not hear any other noises from inside the small three stall bathroom. Maybe it had been my imagination. I did have a lot to drink last night. My banging headache was a testament to that overindulgence. I held my breath and stood up on the toilet so that I could see over the top of the stall. The bathroom was empty. Feeling foolish, I stepped down from the toilet and slowly opened the door.I rub my eyes as I look in the mirror and realize that the creature I saw is me. I groan at the reflection. I was going to kill those so-called buddies of mine next time I see them. I rub my face and the green doesn’t go away, or the scales. I notice that my hands don’t look the same they look strange to me. I walk up to the sink and turn on the water grabbing some paper towels. I soak them and start scrubbing my face. I look up and there I am, green scales. It’s not coming off. They must’ve talked me into tattooing my face last night while I was plastered. Humiliated, I sit down on the floor. The bathroom door opens and a coworker walks in and takes one look at my face and flies back out the door. That’s just great. Now everybody will know. I put my head between my knees and brace myself for the onslaught of coworkers to rush in to see me.The door slams open about thirty minutes later and a couple of people come in pushing a gurney. They grab me and strap me onto the gurney and push me out of the bathroom. My coworkers are gathered by the bathroom door, watching as they wheel me down the hall and to the ambulance waiting just outside the doors. The ambulance crew give me a shot of something and I black out.Slowly, my eyes adjust to the room. I check all my extremities and they are all working in perfect order. I look around and see that I am in some kind of ward. There are about twenty beds and on each bed there is a green-scaled being lying there and looking around as I am now. The one in the bed closest to mine looks at me and said, “You were at Sally’s Bar last night. I remember seeing you there. We all were. Man that was a blast.”“I don’t really remember last night.” I said, trying, desperately to remember the bar. We had gone to several and the last one I remembered was not Sally’s. I didn’t see anyone that I knew lying on those beds. A woman comes in and approaches my bed and she also is green-scaled. “Cramisky, you had us worried when you didn’t show up last night. When you showed up at that restaurant this morning, we knew something wasn’t right. We need to get you back to the place you slept last night and switch your memories back with the person you took over. We just can’t have that kind of behavior from our group.”The crew from the ambulance came and whisked me away to the address they had found in a wallet in my pants pocket. They pulled a set of keys from another of my pockets and opened the door and wheeled me into the house and straight to the bedroom. On the bed was me, only I didn’t have the green scaly complexion.They laid me beside me and gave me another shot. I felt myself slipping away. Hours later, I woke up to my alarm going off. I slap the clock and get up and go into the bathroom. I glance, apprehensively in the mirror, and I laugh. I am not green scaled anymore. It was all a dream. I finish my morning hygiene and return to my closet to grab my suit. It is gone. I look around my house and realize it is gone. I collapse onto the bed realizing it wasn’t a dream.

Last year in July, I was in Delhi meeting one of my oldest friends, someone I had originally met on Quora. The last time I saw her was before COVID, when she was still in college. When we met again, I was struck by how gorgeous and beautiful she had become. I still had the image of her as a student in my mind, but she had completely transformed. When she looked at me, she was equally shocked.

At that time, I was in poor health:

  • I was overweight, weighing 91 kg.
  • I was diabetic.
  • I suffered from chronic back and elbow pain.
  • My immunity was weak and struggling.
  • I was experiencing hair loss.
  • My eating habits were out of control—I ate as if there were no tomorrow.
  • My monthly medical expenses were around ₹2,500.
  • I was dependent on insulin.

When she saw me, she asked, “What have you done to yourself?” I replied defensively, “I’m 34. What do you expect? That I’ll become younger?”

Her response hit me hard: “It’s all about mindset, Ashish! You’re not getting old; your body is aging because of your attitude. The best part is, you can always turn the tide in your favor.”

Trust me, it hit me hard. Her words stayed with me. I decided to give myself six months to change. At first, it was incredibly difficult. Letting go of my unhealthy eating habits was a struggle, and working out was painful. But over time, I began to enjoy it. I even started to appreciate the soreness in my body after a workout—it felt like progress.

One thing, I made sure that I will be consistent no matter what. I will not quit in any situation.

Here’s where I am today:

  • My weight is now 75 kg.
  • My medical expenses have dropped to less than ₹500.
  • I no longer need insulin.
  • My chronic back pain has disappeared.
  • Most importantly, I no longer feel old.

This journey has taught me that change is possible with the right mindset and effort. If I can do it, so can you. It doesn’t matter where you start or how far you have to go—what matters is taking that first step. Your body and mind are capable of incredible things if you give them a chance. Don’t let age, habits, or circumstances define you. You have the power to rewrite your story, one small change at a time.

Remember, it’s never too late to become the best version of yourself. Start today. Believe in yourself. And never, ever give up.

Have been a resident in China from 2003–2015 and now planning to go and live there again indefinitely from 2025.

it’s a massive country, with all seasons. So many different food options and so diverse East to West and North to South. The food is really amazing, from the numbing spicy foods in Sichuan area, Beijing Duck in North, Dumplings Northeast, Seafood in South, Dimsum SouthEast. Sweet & Sour Middle East Incredible delicious.

Medical both via medicine and traditional, it is out of this world. Have had assistance with acupuncture and massages as well as surgeries under anesthesia. And all solved my medical issues. With no waiting times.

Enormously convenient:

All via payment apps, no more cash

Transportation options: rental bikes on street via QR, Didi taxi service, Subways, Highspeed rail, flights

Ordering & Delivery: can order anything.

Most conveniently: dinner, coffee

Customer Service: immediately assisted

Have many Chinese and Foreign friends living all over China.

So much misconceptions about China. In my earliest period in China, whenever I visited Europe and heard all propaganda on TV, I was really shocked. There is so much misinformation spread and seems countries do not take the effort to learn more about the country.

Am looking to settling down there soon. Enjoy the most amazing food, socialize over large dinners, enjoy all seasons, drive throughout the country and experience all it has to offer.

Me and my foreign friends, if we would been asked about China, we would always say, it is so hard to explain. You have to experience it yourself.

My invitation to the world, come and see it, or at least take the effort to see some on YouTube. Lots of your countrymen been recently.

My dad lived into his 90’s, and outlived ALL of his friends. He always exercised and was mentally acute his whole life.

On his 90th birthday I asked “Dad, don’t you wish you were 21 again?”. His reply was the wisdom of the ages.

He said “No, I want to be 60 again. Those were the best years of my life.

I was retired and fit and had financial freedom; all my friends were still alive.

In my 20s I had no money and still so much toil and worry and heartache ahead of me.”

I have remembered that my whole life and now, about to turn 60 myself, am really looking forward to it.

Thanks Dad! Just one final gift you left me with, at the end of a life full of them.

Peruvians REACT to Borat (This was Hilarious)

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