I have continued my experimentation on the AI image generations. I have injected some modifications onto the text prompts and the results are quite interesting. I believe the key phrase was “with pleasures”. This made the art quite unique and attractive. I injected a “creative” element in the prompt as well.
Please enjoy today’s presentation…
Today…
When did you realize that your childhood was not normal?
When I was around 17 years old, a friend from school, R, invited me to her house, to have dinner and watch a film.
To my utter shock, permission was granted. My friend lived about 100 yards up the road from my house, on a side street. I got ready to go, and the mother (I refuse to call either parent MINE).put on her coat, fetched the leash for our German Shepherd, and walked me to the door of my friend’s house. Before I knocked, she informed me rhat she woukd be back at 8:30 pm on the dot to collect me, and I needed to be ready.
I nodded, and knocked at the door; the mother stood in the street and watched until the door closed behind me.
I had a wonderful evening. We spent a while in her room listening to music, before being called down to dinner. That’s when my eyes were really opened. R was joking with both of her parents: telling silly jokes and rough housing with her father… and they were LAUGHING!! No yelling, screaming or lashing out. R didn’t seem anxious or afraid. When they settled down to eat, her mum hugged her, laughing, and her dad kissed her forehead. I was stunned.
When it was time to start the film, R’s father sat beside her on the sofa, and she cuddled into him. I was not excluded from any of their conversations: when I started to help.clear the table, R’s mum thanked me, hugged me, and shoo’ed me away to watch the film.
I watched them interact, and was frozen with shock as I realised that my entire childhood had been abnormal. I was seeing for the first time that other people weren’t so terrified of their parents that they could barely make eue contact with them. That some parents enjoyed spending time with their kids. That maybe the violence and verbal abuse that happened on a daily basis in my household was also not normal.
That one evening had me questioning so so much about my life
Red Note SHOCKS Americans
Why are the military weapon arsenals Russia sold to India always a little bit more advanced than those sold to China?
India is an excellent customer
India pays well in hard currency although significantly delayed but in exchange Russia also almost always delays shipments
So they are both a perfect match
I. There is no conflict between India and Russia
India and USSR / Russia have had no territorial overlap , airspace overlap and no maritime overlap at any point of time
So Russia has no disadvantage in selling their second most advanced weaponry to India, because there is a 100% chance that India won’t use the weaponry against Russia
However China is different
China and Russia may be allies now but there is a territorial overlap, airspace overlap and maritime overlap, albeit not very serious
So Russia would think multiple times before selling its advanced weaponry to China
II. Reverse Engineering Allegations
China has built a whole generation of Aircraft Engineers by taking apart the Russian Aircraft, learning from them, modifying the designs and making them better and better
Russia and USSR saw China acquire limited squadrons of aircraft such as Su-27 and without paying any license fees, allegedly built the entire J-11 using the same design
Today China has surpassed Russia in Aircraft Manufacturing and Engineering and many Russians grudgingly believe that was because of the rampant accelerated Reverse Engineering of many Russian Aircraft and Radar
III. Rate of Technology Localization
China insisted on a 30% Rate of Localization in the 1980s and 50% in the 1990s
This meant 50% of the Technology would be designed and made in China, exclusively by the Chinese
Since back then Chinese parts were not of the same quality as Russian Parts, Russians sold lesser advanced equipment and weaponry
India had no such insistence until 1999 and even today have less than 15% Technology Localization, while China is at near 100%
So Russia could sell India good weapons with technology because it was simple import and routine localization rather than building entire industries from scratch that China did.
However Russia has sometimes taken India for a ride such as the massive overpayments on the Admiral Gorshkov that ended up with a final bill exceeding $ 2.5 Billion compared to the original quote of $ 1.4 Billion
From 1950–2025 – USSR/Russia imported more to China between 1950–1961 after which India always saw between 3.5–7 times more imports from USSR/Russia compared to China
Chinas last formal import delivery from Russia was in 2018
Rednote Exposed Americans STUNNED by How Good Life is in China… And Now They’re ANGRY!
Who are kinder between the Japanese and the Chinese?
From first contact, the Japanese show more courtesy, whereas the Chinese, by their habits, tend to give non-Chinese people, especially Europeans and Americans, the impression that they are not polite enough.
If you go deeper into contact, you will find that a large percentage of Japanese people have a cold and icy feeling. The Chinese, on the other hand, prefer to be lively. That is, after familiarisation, the situation will be reversed for Japanese and Chinese.
The Chinese will speak very directly and the Japanese will speak more politely.
For example, the Chinese will say you are fat.
I answered a question on quora about a non-Chinese person accusing a Chinese person of calling another girl fat and saying that Chinese people are rude. In fact, on the one hand, it is China that will state this directly, rather than euphemistically. On the other hand it is also the case that fat does not have a negative connotation in China.
Scene 1.
Walking down the road, a girl in a yellow skirt in front of me, the hem of her skirt is caught in her shoulder bag and a corner of her panties is leaking out.
If this were in China.
Most people go up to the girl and remind her that she’s naked, out of a sense of “ah, she’s naked, I’m going to warn her so that more people don’t see it”.
If the girl in the yellow dress is Chinese, after being reminded, she will probably think: “Ah, shame on me, I’m glad I was reminded. ” and then say thank you to the person who reminded her.
If this were in Japan.
Most people would be torn between, “Ah, she’s naked, better not bother reminding her, how embarrassing would she be to know she’s naked? “, and then, just pretend that nothing happened and pass by in silence.
If the yellow-skirted girl was Japanese, after she finally realised she was naked, she would most likely comfort herself by saying, “Ah, it’s okay, it’s okay, surely no one saw it, no one saw it.
Scenario two.
A one-on-one meeting with a boss or colleague, the meeting lasts an hour, but the work is finished in half an hour.
If in China: in most cases, “Ah, there’s nothing more to say then, get back to work.” Then, it’s back to work in a hurry.
If in Japan: in most cases, “Ah, it’s not time yet, what’s better to talk about”, and generally the small talk begins and continues until it’s time to finish the meeting.
What will happen if Thailand continues to facilitate Chinese companies relocating to avoid US tariffs aimed at Beijing?
Thailand is a sovereign country. If the US is not happy about what they do, tell them and see how they react. I wouldn’t be surprised if Thailand flips US off. China is a good neighbor and economical partner to Thailand. The US only gives Thailand color revolution through the NED.
What facts about Japan do foreigners not believe until they come to Japan?
I was walking along empty country road and by the side of it saw several buckets of freshly picked fruits. There were empty buckets as well. I asked my father in law (he’s Japanese) what that was. He explained that the fruits were for sale, and that a buyer can pick the size of the bucket s/he wants and leave the money in the tin jar that was placed right there. The seller comes in the evening to pick up the jar with money and the empty buckets, in order to refill them and bring there again in the morning. It was late afternoon and there was indeed some money in the jar.
I was very surprised and asked him the trick that made it work. He did not understand what I meant. I told him that surely there could be somebody who, on the way home after a long workday, would like to stop by to pick up any remaining fruits and also the jar with money.
He looked at me and said: “why would anybody do it? It’s not his”.
Of course! Silly me.
P.S. I did discuss it with a few other people there. Those of them who never travelled outside could not really understand why I was concerned that somebody might take fruits+money. Just like my father-in-law they could not understand WHY. It was a foreign concept to them.
What’s one financial habit that separates the rich from everyone else?
Using your money to make money.
I won’t use debtb unless it makes me money.
Here’s a super simple example.
I could buy a new car. $40,000 . 7% interest.
In two years it’s worth$26,000. I ate $14,000 depreciation. Plus two years of payments.
Let’s say I outright buy a 1969 Pontiac convertible. $40,000. Mint. No payments. Two years later it’s worth $50,000.
My house. Stocks, crypto, coins, I don’t buy things that don’t make me money.
Most people give all their money away. Credit card companies. Rent. Loans. Car payment. They make others rich and stay poor.
Sure. I have my monthly bills. Food, gas, heat, taxes, insurance.
I have one investment account that generates enough money to pay all of that. It’s all free. That money works for me. I don’t work for it.
Took me 20 years to get there but it works good.
Pistachio Sour Cream Bread
Ingredients
Bread
- 1 cup sour cream
- 4 eggs, lightly beaten
- 1/4 cup vegetable oil
- 1/4 cup water
- 1 (18.25 ounce) box butter recipe cake mix*
- 1 small box instant pistachio pudding mix
- 1/2 jar maraschino cherries, chopped (optional)
Topping
- 6 tablespoons brown sugar
- 2 tablespoons cinnamon
- 1 1/4 cups chopped walnuts
Instructions
- Mix all ingredients for bread except cherries, with mixer for three minutes on medium.
- Stir in cherries, if using.
- Spread 1/2 of the mixture into a large greased and floured** loaf pan.
- Sprinkle with 1/2 of the topping mixture, then repeat with remaining batter and topping.
- Bake at 350 degrees F for 55 minutes to 1 hour or until a wooden pick inserted into center comes out clean. You may need to cover with foil tent for the last 15 minutes so the top does not over-brown.
- Remove from the pan onto dish towel and cool.
- Drizzle with confectioners’ sugar glaze, if desired, when cool.
Notes
* 18.25 ounce boxes of cake mix have been replaced by 16.5 ounce and 15.25 ounce boxes. To compensate for the volume loss in a 16 ounce box, whisk 6 tablespoons all-purpose flour into the dry cake mix before proceeding with the recipe. To compensate for the volume loss in a 15.25 ounce box, add 1/2 cup + 3 tablespoons all-purpose flour and 1/4 teaspoon baking powder.
** For best results, use our Pan Release!
Sight Unseen
Submitted into Contest #210 in response to: Write a story that includes someone saying, “We’re not alone.”… view prompt
Julie Clark
Sight Unseen
Abraham Morgenstern reverently offered Sidra the Radio Shack catalog, as if it was his most prized possession.
“This is the new one,” he said. “Shall we begin with the CB radios and then move on to the antennas? And please, call me Abe.”
Sidra rolled her eyes, which fortunately Mr. Morgenstern – Abe – could not see, and started reading. She was barely through the first line, “Realistic TRC-410. Compact, but with all the necessary features. Hysteresis-type squelch…,” when noise from the street below drowned her out. Looking out the window, Sidra saw people at the bus stop cheering as a woman wearing a feather boa screamed “no money, no honey” over and over to some guy honking his puke yellow Mustang.
Abe seemed oblivious to the noise. And the heat, thought Sidra, as she wiped her face with the hem of her t-shirt. It had been particularly gross climbing the stairs to his room today. It was unusually hot for San Francisco and, with a dead rat in the stairwell and urine-soaked carpet in the hall, the Hotel Leo was even more disgusting than usual. Despite its supposed elegance in the early 1900s, it was now the Tenderloin’s most rundown flophouse. A fan in Abe’s room would help, but he’d told her fans interfered with radio waves. Go figure.
“Please continue Sidra, perhaps with more zest?”
She made a face. Zest? She didn’t do zest. But if that’s what the old man wanted: “Big LED channel readout! An LED S/RF meter! Auto-modulation circuit! Ceramic filters!”
Abe clapped his hands with pleasure. “Magnificent!”
* * *
The police had arrested Sidra a few months earlier for shoplifting a necklace. She’d had enough money to buy it, but stupidly wanted to see if she still had skills. It was her first offense as an adult, so the judge sentenced her to community service and a social services agency assigned her to read each week to blind Abe. As community service gigs go, it had sounded great. Way better than picking up trash, right? Not exactly.
On their first Saturday together, she thought Abe wanted to order something when he handed her a Radio Shack catalog. Instead, he politely asked her to read every single word in its 176 pages. For three solid hours she dutifully read each digit, acronym, and megahertz, but she only got up to page 99, coaxial connectors – whatever those were. She finished that catalog last week, and Sidra hoped that today she’d get to read a book or newspaper to him. But nope, he had handed her the new Summer 1981 Radio Shack catalog.
Sidra found Abe pleasant enough, but a bit puzzling. He only talked about radio stuff and there was nothing interesting in his room – two chairs, a bed, a dresser with a bunch of radios and antennas on top, and a hot plate. No photos of relatives or anything else with clues to his background. Sidra didn’t like people she couldn’t get a quick read on. Her superpower was staying one step ahead of everyone.
She glanced at Abe. His face lit up when she read certain descriptions in the catalog. It was peculiar, but she didn’t care enough to ask why. Still, no harm in humoring him.
“The priority switch gives INSTANT, DIRECT access to either Channel 9 or Channel 19!” She added a “WOW!” for good measure.
Abe glowed.
“A priority switch? Oh my, that is spectacular!”
Sidra couldn’t help herself – she giggled. What a thing, she thought, to be part of this man’s absolute, inexplicable joy.
* * *
A few weeks later, after reading about the six-band Realist DX-60 for the third time, curiosity got the best of her.
“Abe, what exactly is a shortwave radio?”
“It is simply a radio frequency, like AM and FM. Shortwave can travel farther though, which means I can listen to broadcasts from all over the world.”
He continued, excited by her interest. “Radio waves are a type of electromagnetic radiation, projected in different directions by antennas. Those in the shortwave band are reflected from the ionosphere – a layer of electrically charged atoms in the atmosphere. By tuning my receivers to specific frequencies, I can collect certain signals. It is quite something!”
It was the most Abe had spoken to Sidra since she’d started reading to him. Unfortunately, she didn’t understand what he was saying.
“The radio waves are reflected from outer space?”
“Yes, that is it!” Abe said. “Although there are other ways to receive electromagnetic waves too.”
“Such as?”
“Through your teeth. Just like Lucille Ball. One time she was on TV and announced that during World War II she had picked up radio broadcasts through her fillings.”
Abe leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, “You should know that I, too, have communicated with other beings through my fillings.”
Good lord, Sidra thought. That’s what I get for asking questions. She did not want to know if he talked to little green men with his teeth. Time to wrap things up.
“How about if we finish this page and that’ll be it for today?”
“Actually, I was hoping when we finished that you would join me for lunch,” Abe said. “If you have time.”
Sidra was taken aback by the invitation. But she was hungry.
“Sure, um, I guess so,” she said, hoping there’d be no more mention of outer space. “Thanks.”
“Excellent! If you could get my cane from under the bed, I’ll excuse myself and then we will go. ”
Abe amused Sidra with his more formal manner of speaking – “excusing himself” meant using the restroom down the hall. She reached under the bed for his long white cane and saw a shoebox. Curious, she pulled it out. There were hundreds of tiny pieces of paper inside. Fortunes – from fortune cookies. What an odd thing to save. Underneath all the paper was a thick envelope and a rectangular case covered in dark blue velvet. Hearing Abe’s footsteps, she hastily grabbed the envelope and one of the fortunes, slid the shoebox back under the bed, and picked up his cane.
Abe opened the door and tilted his head.
“Something is askew.”
“I closed your window,” she said.
“Thank you,” said Abe. But he looked pensive.
* * *
Abe held Sidra’s elbow while navigating their way out of the Hotel Leo, tip-tapping back and forth with his cane. She was amazed how many people greeted him, and how he recognized everyone’s voices – “Arnie, good afternoon to you,” to the hotel manager sitting in his usual haze of cigarette smoke. “Lovely song Marcus,” to the annoying man with the boombox on the front steps. “Jade, how are you feeling this week?” to the woman running the newsstand.
At the corner, they turned left and came to Happy Delight, a small Chinese restaurant she’d never noticed. The place was shabby, with chipped Formica tables and torn leather booths, but it smelled wonderful. An elderly woman hurried over as soon as they walked in, bowed, and patted Abe’s arm affectionately.
“Hello Mr. Morgenstern. You brought a friend!”
“Good day, Mrs. Huang. Yes, this is Sidra. I want her to try your remarkable lo mein.”
By the time they sat down, Mrs. Huang was already back with two heaping bowls of chicken lo mein. Rejecting the chopsticks, which she had no idea how to use, Sidra took a generous forkful of noodles. She wasn’t big on Chinese food, but she’d try to get it down.
“Oh my god! Abe, this is delicious!” she exclaimed. Seriously, it was incredible.
“That it is. I come to Happy Delight every Saturday for Mrs. Huang’s lo mein,” Abe said. “Chew slowly, so you can taste all the flavors and textures. Paying close attention changes everything.”
“Sure thing Yoda,” Sidra said.
“Yodel?”
“Yoda. Y-o-d-a. You know, from Star Wars? The Empire Strikes Back? Yoda’s a wrinkly little wise teacher.”
“It is similar to the Hebrew word ‘Yodea’ – one who knows. But Sidra, you do not need a Yoda. Everything you need to know is already inside you.”
“And that’s why you sound like Yoda!” she said.
When they finished their meal, Mrs. Huang brought two fortune cookies to the table. Abe asked to Sidra read hers aloud. She did so, while shaking her head at the irony: “To believe in the unseen is both a triumph and a blessing.”
* * *
That evening, back in her apartment, Sidra taped her Happy Delight fortune in a notebook and began to write about how ridiculous it was to believe in things you couldn’t see. Then she remembered the fortune from Abe’s shoebox – he would never miss it – and pulled it out of her pocket: “Be kind always. You never know what someone is going through.” She taped it to another page and wrote “kindness is overrated.”
She hoped the contents of Abe’s envelope would be more interesting, but it was just a bunch of faded newspaper articles about the Holocaust and some hospital. She skimmed the clippings. Depressing, but not anything about Abe. Then two headlines caught her eye: “Holocaust Survivors Have Own Wing at Insane Asylum” and “Jews Attacked at Mental Hospital: 4 Die, 11 Hurt, 3 Blinded.” The last article said all “the lunatics” were “resettled” in San Francisco.
Was Abe a Holocaust survivor? Had he been in that mental health place? Sidra wished she hadn’t poked around in his belongings. His life wasn’t her business. She needed to do her community service stint and be done with him. The articles didn’t change anything. Or maybe they changed everything.
* * *
Happy Delight became part of their Saturday schedule and eventually Sidra asked Abe why he liked Radio Shack catalogs so much. Without hesitation, he said the numbers were soothing, like a mantra – though admittedly an unconventional one. He also said the radios were more than electronics. They were connections.
He told her stories about the things he learned and people he met through his radios. On his CB, he talked every day to truckers all over the U.S. and Canada. His favorite driver called himself Charlie Tuna. He’d been driving a big rig since he got out of San Quentin and gave Abe weekly updates on his travels. Using the shortwave radio, Abe heard broadcasts from all over the world, telling Sidra about labor strikes in Paris and Queen Elizabeth’s birthday parade. She learned “ham radio” was slang for Amateur Radio, and not something involving pork, and that he used it to talk to people in Morocco and Brazil. Abe’s stories reminded her of Arabian Nights, where Scheherazade told the king a different story every night to stay alive. She’d read that book over and over in middle school, trying to escape the miserable reality of Foster Family #3. Like Scheherazade, the stories had kept her alive.
Each Saturday night, Sidra taped a new fortune in her notebook. The day her fortune said, “Your dreams are only your dreams until you write them down – then they’re goals,” she started writing about what each fortune made her think about. There was always some truth, some nugget of wisdom to extract. After getting “The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page,” she wrote about all the places she wanted to go. When her fortune said, “An investment in knowledge pays the best interest,” she wrote a long list of things she wanted to learn about and sent away for college catalogs. “Don’t wait for anyone else to light your fire: you have your own matches,” was the incentive she needed to ask for a raise at her waitressing job.
Sidra found herself smiling more. And talking to people she had previously ignored. It certainly improved her tips! But it wasn’t about the money. It was for the stories. They gave her an unexpected, totally unfamiliar, sense of something. She didn’t have a good word for it. It just felt good. Like last week, when she’d sat down with James, who was always in the hotel lobby with his mangy cat. It was like she’d handed him a hundred bucks instead of merely saying hello. He enthusiastically invited her to pet the cat – introduced as Bubbles – and, while scratching its ears (and praying it didn’t have fleas), he told her wild tales about when he worked on a fishing boat in Alaska.
She was enjoying Saturdays with Abe. Last week, as they ate at Happy Delight, Sidra had asked him why he had so many kinds of antennas.
“Oh yes,” said Abe, “I have been meaning to tell you about them. The antennas connect me beyond our earth and our solar system, to other galaxies. With the right antenna, I can communicate with extraterrestrial beings.”
Sidra sighed – louder than she had intended.
“You are skeptical Sidra,” Abe said. “But I assure you, we’re not alone. We are not alone in the universe. We share it with many other life forms.” He paused. “You think believing that makes me weird, don’t you?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Ah, but I can hear your face,” he said. Then he chuckled. “That is fine. As I recall it was Dr. Seuss who said we are all a bit weird.”
As she finished her lo mein, Sidra pondered all that she was learning – from fortune cookies, Dr. Suess, a trucker named Charlie Tuna, and a blind man who believed in space aliens. She broke open her cookie and had to laugh: “Do not be afraid to learn from everything and everyone.” Of course.
* * *
Today Abe seemed agitated. He kept interrupting Sidra, asking her to start over.
“What’s up with you?” she finally asked, putting the Radio Shack catalog down.
“I am worried,” he said. “The solar eclipse is next week, and Jesse went to visit his daughter in Sacramento.”
“Who’s Jesse?”
“He lives down the hall. Without Jesse I do not know what to do,” Abe said. “He takes me to the park for each eclipse. We put on our hats and then, when the sun and the moon collide, Jesse’s eyes become mine.”
Well, that sounded bizarre, even for Abe. He put his head in his hands, looking miserable.
“What day is the eclipse?” Sidra asked.
“Friday.”
“I have the day off from the restaurant, so I can walk you to the park if you want.”
“You would have to wear the hat.”
“Sure Abe, I can wear a hat.”
* * *
On Friday, Abe met Sidra in the lobby with a lumpy helmet on his head made from aluminum foil. He held out a second, identical one to her.
“Here you go. I made it yesterday and hope it fits.”
“Abe…”
“It is your hat. You said you would wear the hat.”
No way she was putting this pile of tinfoil on her head! But she took it. He’d never know if she just carried it.
“Fits great,” Sidra said.
Arnie banged on the bullet-proof glass and yelled. “Abe, she doesn’t have it on!” Then he grinned and gave her two thumbs up.
“Sidra, we cannot go if you do not wear your hat.”
Well, it was, after all, San Francisco. Maybe no one would notice? She put it on.
As they walked, Abe continued talking about the helmet. “The radio waves during an eclipse are intense. It is most important to protect your brain…” Then, as if reciting scientific fact, added “otherwise the sun and moon will not have full access when our eyes switch. This time I hope to see beyond the stars.”
Sidra stopped. “Wait, did you say our eyes switch?”
“It is the whole point of the eclipse Sidra. We each put on the glasses and during the eclipse, there is a cross-oculisation. I will have your eyes and you will have mine.”
“Meaning I’ll be blind?”
“Only for the length of the eclipse.”
Okay Abe, she’d play along.
“And my eyesight will come back?”
“It will. Jesse’s always does,” said Abe. “But you might see things differently than before.”
* * *
Dozens of people with cameras and solar eclipse glasses were in the park setting up lawn chairs and telescopes. No one looked twice at the old man and young woman wearing aluminum foil helmets. Sitting down on an empty bench, Abe opened the beautiful velvet case she’d seen in his shoebox, under all the fortunes, and pulled out two pairs of exquisite, antique gold eyeglasses with amber lenses.
“One pair for you and one for me,” he said. “With these, during the eclipse, that which has been cloaked in darkness will become visible.”
* * *
When the moon took its first bite of the sun, Abe reached for Sidra’s hand.
“The trees, Sidra!” Abe exclaimed. “The flowers! The fountain! The park is as breathtaking as I remember. Now for an opening, so I can peer into the cosmos. ”
Sidra couldn’t see a thing.
“Abe, this isn’t funny.”
Suddenly Sidra’s darkness turned blood red and what looked like human remains rose from the dirt and began to wail. What was happening? She screamed. Or thought she screamed. Swirling straightjackets surrounded her as shadowy figures called out. She had to be hallucinating. Is this what was in Abe’s head? His mind’s eye?
It was as if he knew what was happening. He wrapped both his hands around her trembling one. “Breathe, dear Sidra…breathe,” he said. “Nothing you see can hurt you.”
Sidra slowed her breath and as she did, glimmers of soft light began to appear and slowly grew bigger and brighter. She felt Abe’s energy and kindness flow through her as everything came into focus. There was an explosion of light around her. Or inside her? She wasn’t sure. But the frightening shadows faded, transforming into kind faces and stories and radios.
Sidra wasn’t sure about the whole universe – but, she thought, perhaps on this planet, she was no longer alone.
Experienced Fruit Farmer Teaches Tips On Choosing Delicious, Sweet And Fleshy Oranges
Shorpy
It has been said that the Chinese APP (Xiao Hong Shu) has become the hub for “nice people” from all over the world. Why are Americans saying this?
The perception of Xiaohongshu (Little Red Book) as a hub for “nice people” among Americans likely stems from its unique blend of social media and e-commerce, fostering a community that values authenticity, lifestyle sharing, and positive engagement. Unlike platforms often criticized for toxicity, Xiaohongshu emphasizes curated content—beauty, travel, fashion, and wellness—creating a space where users, including Americans, feel welcomed by a culture of encouragement and mutual respect. Its global appeal lies in its ability to connect people through shared interests, transcending cultural barriers and offering a refreshing alternative to the divisiveness seen on some Western platforms. This reputation for kindness and inclusivity is why Americans are increasingly drawn to it.
What attracts illegal immigrants from India to the USA via the “Dunki” route, paying lakhs of rupees for an uncertain future? What jobs can these people expect to do in America which they can not do in their own country?
It’s simple mathematics sir
You invest ₹30 Lakh and go to US and become an Illegal via the Dunki route
In the US, they pay you $10 an hour to mow the lawns, scrub the toilets and all forms of manual labor
The American foreman quotes $14/15 an hour , pockets the extra $ 4/5 an hour and pays the Illegals $ 10 an hour
They work 40 hours a week and earn $ 1600 a month
Now they are all packed 12–15 people in a house and they pay $ 100 a month each for rent and $ 200 a month for groceries and utilities
Imagine the film Romancham but instead of 4–5 people, there are 12–15
So they can save up close to $ 1,000 a month which is ₹85,000/- a month or ₹10.20 Lakh a year IN CASH
On a ₹30 Lakh payment, that’s 33% Interest a year !!!!
In 3 years, they recover their principal entirely
After that :-
Six months savings is enough to marry off a sister (₹5 Lakh lump sum) or enough to pay a brother a bribe to get a Government Job
One year savings is enough to buy an Auto and get an income for the family
Can you do any of this in India?
Can you borrow ₹30 Lakh and repay it in 3 years??? Especially given your qualifications aren’t exactly that of an AI Engineer or a Software Architect
Can you save ₹5 Lakh in 6 months to marry off a sister?
Can you save ₹ 10 Lakh in a year to invest in a Taxi ?
In the US, it’s very possible to save cash and help run your home
The 87:1 Rupees to Dollars exchange and the fact that an Indian can earn ₹ 1 Lakh a month working as a Coolie Laborer in the US is the biggest reason
Dunki is all about the numbers
Most people going by the Dunki route dont want to buy houses and settle down in US
They want to earn money and set their families in India and after that hope their children who are US Citizens, can build their own lives
It’s not just US
Its Saudi Arabia too
Indian laborers work for 12 hours cleaning Oil and earning ₹ 90,000 /- a month and they have housing and food , so they save around ₹60,000/- a month and earn ₹35–40 Lakh in 5 Years
They come back and build a small Business in India
Very popular in Kerala
So why Dunki? Why not the Legal route?
The Answer is Demand vs Supply
Mexicans and Eastern Europeans take up all the legal entries
Indians are too far away and there is no legal route to enter the US as a servant apart from working for a Consulate official
Its not just cleaners
Many Indians enter and become Cooks and serve at Gujarati Owned Motels or Gujarati restaurants because the labor is much cheaper
A Paltry $ 2,000 a month for a cook plus meals and minimal lodging instead of $ 5,000 to $ 7,000 plus healthcare for a documented cook
None of this is possible in India
A Woman with cooking talent cannot save up ₹12 Lakh a year or ₹50 Lakh in 5 years
Her salary will never be that much
As long as 1 $ = ₹87/-
This is going to always happen
A Chinese who saves up $ 1000 a month can save up 420,000 Yuan after 5 years
He can go home and open a Noodles Shop
A Pakistani also can save up a lot
In the event of a US – China military conflict, how would the fact that the Chinese military has virtually no combat experience affect the outcome?
None whatsoever, because American troops also have very little to no combat experience. Western propaganda outlets ranting about “combat experience” act like the Global War on Terror ended yesterday. When actually, the pullout from Afghanistan was four years ago, and major combat operations ended a full decade earlier.
For some perspective, the last National Defense Service Medal/Ribbon was awarded in 2022. Look up any recent photo of American servicemen and see how many have this ribbon, let alone a campaign ribbon. Very few.
Even if US Congress conscripted veterans, very few of them are going to know anything except how to drive around and look for IEDs. The last time the USA did anything remotely resembling a conventional war was 2003 in Iraq. A soldier who participated in that is in his 40s or 50s, and the brigade commander is in a nursing home sipping apple juice through a straw while the nurse changes his diaper.
And with the US “allies,” assertions of combat experience are even more laughable. I actually get Brits in my comment section insisting they’re more experienced than China because of the Falklands War.
We’re reaching levels of cope that shouldn’t even be possible.
Sir Whiskerton and the Crusade into Catnip’s Territory
Ah, dear reader, gather ‘round for another uproarious adventure from the farmyard! Today’s tale is one of bravery, mischief, and a whole lot of chaos. When Rufus and Bingo decide to lead a crusade into the treacherous territory of Catnip’s farm, things quickly spiral out of control. With Cluckster the Rooster and Billy-Bob the Goat causing mayhem, and Squeakers, Ratticus, Bonbo, and Grumbles laying traps, this crusade is anything but holy. So, grab your sense of humor and prepare for a story filled with puns, pranks, and a moral that will leave you grinning like a cat who’s just stolen the cream.
The Crusade Begins
It all started with a bark. Rufus the Dog, still glowing faintly from his radioactive misadventure, stood atop a hay bale, addressing the farm animals. “Friends, farmmates, and fellow adventurers! The time has come to expand our quest for the Holy Shoe! We must venture into the unknown—into the territory of Catnip’s farm!”
Bingo the Dog, ever the loyal sidekick, howled in agreement. “To Catnip’s farm! For the Holy Shoe!”
The animals cheered, their enthusiasm outweighing their common sense. Sir Whiskerton, lounging on the barn roof, rolled his eyes. “This is going to end in disaster,” he muttered. But no one listened. The crusade was on.
Entering Catnip’s Territory
The crusaders—Rufus, Bingo, Porkchop the Pig, Big Red, and Bessie the Tie-Dye Cow—marched boldly toward Catnip’s farm, their heads held high. Sir Whiskerton, reluctantly tagging along, muttered under his breath, “I give it five minutes before everything goes sideways.”
As they crossed the invisible border into Catnip’s territory, the air seemed to grow heavier. The trees loomed ominously, and the faint sound of snickering could be heard in the distance. Catnip, the sly and conniving cat, watched from the shadows, a wicked grin on his face. “Oh, this is going to be fun,” he purred.
Cluckster’s Mayhem
The first sign of trouble came from Cluckster the Rooster, Catnip’s bumbling henchman. Cluckster had set up a “rooster alarm system” consisting of tin cans, strings, and a lot of feathers. As the crusaders approached, Cluckster leapt out from behind a bush, flapping his wings and squawking at the top of his lungs.
“INTRUDERS! INTRUDERS! SOUND THE ALARM!” Cluckster screeched, pulling on a string that sent a cascade of tin cans tumbling down a hill.
The cans clattered and clanged, startling the crusaders. Porkchop squealed and dove into a bush, while Bessie mooed in alarm. “What in the name of tie-dye is going on?!” she exclaimed.
Sir Whiskerton sighed. “It’s Cluckster. He’s about as subtle as a bull in a china shop.”
Billy-Bob’s Peculiar Pranks
Next up was Billy-Bob the Goat, Catnip’s other henchman. Billy-Bob had set up a series of “goat traps” designed to confuse and confound the crusaders. The first trap was a pile of hay bales arranged in a maze. As the animals tried to navigate it, Billy-Bob popped out from behind a bale, bleating, “You’ll never find the Holy Shoe! Mwahaha!”
Rufus, determined to prove his bravery, charged through the maze, only to trip over a hidden rope and land face-first in a pile of mud. “I’m okay!” he barked, his tail wagging despite the mud covering his face.
Bessie, ever the optimist, tried to meditate her way through the chaos. “Peace and love, everyone. Peace and love,” she chanted, though her tie-dye fur was now streaked with mud.
Squeakers and Ratticus’s Tricks
Just when the crusaders thought things couldn’t get worse, Squeakers the Mouse and Ratticus the Rat appeared, flanked by their associates, Bonbo the Rat and Grumbles the Mouse. The four troublemakers had set up a series of traps designed to humiliate the crusaders.
The first trap was a bucket of water balanced precariously over a gate. As Porkchop pushed the gate open, the bucket tipped, drenching him from head to hoof. “I didn’t sign up for this!” Porkchop squealed, shaking water from his ears.
Next, Ratticus rolled out a giant ball of yarn, which tangled around Big Red’s legs, sending him tumbling into a pile of hay. “I’m okay!” Big Red barked, though he was now completely wrapped in yarn.
Squeakers, meanwhile, had set up a “fake Holy Shoe” made of cardboard and glitter. As Rufus and Bingo lunged for it, the fake shoe exploded into a cloud of glitter, covering the dogs in sparkles. “I think I ate some glitter,” Bingo said, coughing.
Catnip’s Grand Finale
As the crusaders regrouped, Catnip himself appeared, lounging on a fence post with a smug grin. “Well, well, well,” he purred. “Look who’s come crawling into my territory. Did you really think you’d find the Holy Shoe here? Or were you just looking for a good laugh?”
Sir Whiskerton stepped forward, his tail flicking. “This was a mistake, Catnip. We’re leaving.”
“Leaving so soon?” Catnip said, feigning disappointment. “But the fun’s just getting started!”
Before Catnip could unleash another prank, the crusaders turned tail and fled, their tails between their legs—or, in Porkchop’s case, his curly little tail wagging furiously as he ran.
The Moral of the Story
Back on their own farm, the crusaders gathered to lick their wounds—both literal and metaphorical. Sir Whiskerton addressed the group, his tone equal parts sarcastic and sincere.
“Let this be a lesson to all of you,” he said. “Sometimes, the quest for something—whether it’s a Holy Shoe or a moment of glory—can lead you into trouble. And sometimes, the best thing to do is know when to walk away. Or, in our case, run.”
The animals nodded, their heads hanging low. But then Rufus barked, “We’ll get ‘em next time!” and the group erupted into cheers.
A Happy Ending
And so, the crusaders returned to their farm, battered but not broken. The Holy Shoe remained elusive, but the animals had learned a valuable lesson about teamwork, perseverance, and the importance of not taking yourself too seriously.
As for Catnip? He lounged on his fence post, watching the retreating crusaders with a satisfied smirk. “Until next time, Whiskerton,” he purred. “Until next time.”
The End.
Do you think China’s unveiling of the DeepSeek R1 open-source AI model, combined with the US’s efforts to restrict export controls on NVIDIA AI chips, will lead to the creation of a rival Chinese AI chip to challenge NVIDIA’s dominance?
DeepSeek used Chinese languages & logic of thinking.
Huawei has made statements that DeepSeek has been using Huawei made chips.
There are about 150 people in Deepseek. DeepSeek AI teams are all educated by Chinese universities, no one has been educated outsider China. The average age of the team member is less than 35. The highest salary of the team member is 110k RMB per month.
Now Chinese Alibaba also released its AI model which has outperformed all the US AI models, even outperformed DeepSeek AI model, but at the same Low cost as DeepSeek.
Chinese Alibaba AI model is the number one in the world.
Deepseek AI model is the number 2 in the world.
Chinese AI models have been the world number 1 and world number 2.
The US has failed to rob the world by its expensive and lousy AI models such as OpenAl.
You will see the US will desperately defame China Alibaba and DeepSeek AI models daily.
TikTok has been following the US policies to operate its business in the US.Any foreign company following the US policies to do its business in the US are national security threats to the US. Thus, the US policies are actual national threats to the US national security.Trump is asking TikTok joint venture between China and the US.Here are the shares holders of TikTok.
From right beginning, China TikTok shares are <45%, > 55% TikTok shares are shared by the US, Europe & Japan etc. China welcomes Trump to increase Chinese shares up to 50% & forced others to give their shares to the US.Wish Trump a good luck to be able to get it!
They are jealous, envy and hateful of DeepSeek.
Alibaba has also released AI model which has surpassed DeepSeek and US OpenAI.
Alibaba AI model is the world number one AI on earth. Alibaba and deepSeek AI models will incorporated into Chinese smartphones some times this year.
The US trillion of dollars spending on AI has been wasted, worse than the spending in20 years Afghanistan war.
Huawei deployed the world most advanced 5G technologies, then the US accuses Huawei of stealing US technologies which the US does not have.
China has deployed the world most advanced hypersonic missiles, then the US accuses China of US missiles technologies which the US does not have.
China deployed the world most advanced 5th and 6th generation fighter jet, then the US accuses China of stealing their technologies which they don’t have.
All in all, the US has been accusing China of stealing the US tomorrow’s technologies!
15 Reasons to Leave the USA Forever
The First Date
Submitted into Contest #210 in response to: Write a story that includes someone saying, “We’re not alone.”… view prompt
Heather Blank
The sounds grew louder as I got closer to the tree. A loud, hiss-rattle sort of buzzing, almost impossible to articulate, but as familiar as my own voice. I stood beneath the crepe myrtle, no actual shade at all to protect me from the excruciating Texas sun, wondering where it was. Suddenly, I was smacked in the face with a fierce and angry flutter, as it scuttled off higher up into the branches. “Bastard,” I muttered. “I hope my cats find you!” It hiss-rattled louder in defiance at my intrusion.
“I’m just trying to water my fucking tomatoes!” I yelled at it, knowing it couldn’t care less.
It was getting darker, as the sun had already begun to set, which was basically the only good time to water anything, unless it was early morning, and I am not an early morning person. I thought maybe those little alien fuckers would be asleep, or gone, or just NOT THERE, but they were, and they left creepy, crispy, brown shells everywhere in their summer wake. I plucked them off the tomato cages and the fence, crushing them like eggshells with a disgusted satisfaction.
I continued my watering, and one flew down and landed right on the top of the tomato cage, staring at me. I stared back, studying his big black beady eyes, and large wings that were almost beautiful, if they weren’t hiding all of their icky legs beneath them.
“Don’t you have someone else to bug?” I asked. “Get it? Bug?” I laughed at my own punny joke.
“Yeah, I got it,” it grumbled back at me. Huh?
Am I having a heat stroke?
“It wasn’t that funny, and anyway, you’ve been a bitch since you came out here. I’m just trying to live, how is that even bothering you?”
“You’re really loud, dude. I get migraines. Your loud ass buzzing all day doesn’t help.”
“I don’t know what a migraine is, but I have to find a lady friend, and she’s not gonna know that I exist if she can’t hear me, soooooo…..”
I start to feel dizzy. I am having a heat stroke, surely. Or is it a mirage? Have I had too much sun? Or worse, am I developing schizophrenia?
I walk over to the table under the patio and sit down. I’m sweating buckets, even in the near dark. The cicada follows me, perching on the edge of the very full ashtray kept outside for our roommate. “This is disgusting,” he muttered. “I hope I don’t smell like an ashtray if a lady actually shows up,” he made a face. Yes, this talking cicada just made a pissy face at me.
Maybe I’m high.
“You’re not high or having a heat stroke,” he answered me, reading my thoughts? “I AM actually talking to you.”
“Why? No cicada has ever bothered to speak to me before. I feel so lucky!”
“I detect your sarcasm, but you are not wrong. You should feel lucky. Not everyone gets to talk to me.”
I look inside the house, through the mini blinds. The kitchen lights are on, but no one is around. I thought my boyfriend was doing the dishes. Yes, he does the dishes. Instead, though, it was empty, and quiet. Even my little dogs were nowhere to be seen. Usually they came outside with me, but since the temperature said it “felt like 109”, I made them stay inside so they didn’t burn their little feet.
“See, you’re so kind. Even to those little rat things.” Reading my mind again! What the hell?! “The hairier one ate my friend last week,” he continued. “You didn’t even help him. You got your phone out and made a video of her playing with him. Biting him, dragging him around the yard by his wings, his legs. You thought it was CUTE.”
“I did not think it was cute, I thought it was pretty gross, actually, and I tried to get her away from it, IF YOU REMEMBER CORRECTLY. I don’t want my dog eating bugs and then licking my face later–”
“BUGS!!!!” He was indignant. “You’re in for a surprise…”
“I think I am plenty surprised, already, and quite possibly losing my shit. Anyway, she was very determined. I think she’s part cat. Every time I tried to get it away from her, excuse me, HIM, she grabbed him and ran to the other side of the yard. Didn’t you see me cover him with a giant leaf when she finally dropped him for a minute? She couldn’t see him anymore, so I was able to get her inside the house. So she didn’t actually eat him, she just.. Played with him.”
If you could see beady black eyes without irises roll, this is what he did. My explanation was exact, though! She didn’t EAT his friend. “He still died, Human. Died from those injuries.”
“Furthermore, I don’t know why I even care if she played with him, or why you care, either. He may have been your friend, but isn’t that less competition for you with the ladies? Isn’t it better that he’s gone?”
“You’d think so,” he said wistfully. “But we did live in burrows next to each other for 17 years, so we grew up together. We had many, many long conversations. So aside from the fact that in an odd way, your dog leveled the playing field, so to speak, it is bittersweet.”
I blinked the sweat out of my eyes, and wiped my forehead to no real avail. The air was almost suffocating. I am sure that has to be why I am sitting here, having a conversation with a cicada and not actually freaking out, other than wondering why the hell I am sitting here, having a conversation with a cicada.
The least of which because I have never liked them, because when I was six years old, a boy at my babysitter’s house used to snatch them off tree branches, and squeeze them so they would scream loudly, and chase me, up and down the street. Once he was chasing me through the yard, and I tried to climb the chain link fence to escape him, snagging the inside of my knee on the top of the metal fence, blood pouring down my leg. I have that scar to this day and have never forgotten how or why I have it.
“You have that scar to always remember us!” He said, butting into my thoughts. “Nick shouldn’t have been chasing you on the daily with us, but we can’t transform in broad daylight and blow our cover, so we just went along with it. He was a sadistic prick. He was soon removed.”
“Removed???? Wait, what the fuck, how are you doing that? How are you talking, and how are you reading my mind? Where is everyone, why are your loud ass little buddies quiet all of a sudden?”
“We’re not alone. They aren’t quiet, you just can’t hear them, the way we truly speak. With our minds. Which is how I can hear yours.”
I started to feel unnerved, and then I remembered he just said we can’t transform in broad daylight and blow our cover. My blood ran cold, and I began to wonder if I was still breathing, because I could not move.
“You’re breathing, chill. Everything is fine.”
“I suppose we have different definitions of FINE.”
Suddenly, the cicada jumped off the edge of the ashtray, and into the air, almost upright. His many legs began to meld together, until he had two arms, two legs, one body, one big head, but still, two giant black eyes. He was a greenish brown, like a cicada, and his skin reminded me of clay. Somehow I was calm. Not moving. Waiting.
“I guess clay isn’t so bad, you aren’t actually disgusted by me, so, that’s a plus.” His lips and mouth, which were very small, did not move. He … smiled? “YES WE SMILE! We can’t help ourselves, just like you lot can’t.”
You lot.
“Look, I’m not going to hurt you, I just want you to come with me on a little field trip. You may even enjoy it.”
“I don’t really have time to go anywhere right now, I’m sweating like a pig, I need to take a shower, my boyfriend is probably wondering why I’m taking so long out here,” I sputter. It’s one thing I was talking to a cicada. It’s another that the cicada morphed exactly into the alien-like creature that I always thought they looked like. I think about all the cicadas I’ve seen in my life, wondering if they were all aliens.
“Yes.” He said abruptly. “It’s how we keep our eyes on you. Well not you specifically, except in this case, of course,” he chuckled. “Humans in general. Some of us get eaten by cats or birds or squished by cruel little six year old humans chasing other humans, etc, but that’s just how it goes. We are the soldiers on the ground.”
My head began to feel like a fishbowl, sloshing around. “Just relax,” he said. “You’ll be back before you know it.” Panic suddenly shoots through every one of my cells and limbs like lightning.
“Hey Marco!” He turned around, talking to someone, another alien, again without moving his lips. The alien walked up out of the darkness of the backyard and joined him. “I found my lady friend.” His big black eye winked.
What is the biggest “butterfly effect” moment in your life so far?
I was 45 years old and recently fired from my job. I had always wanted to go back to college and finish getting my degree. I assessed poorly in math for the placement test at the local community college. My idea was to buy the lower math class textbook and practice independently. A friend suggested I attend the adult/GED class in our small rural town for free to improve my math skills. I was the only adult learner; the rest were mandated high schoolers. (25 in all)
The professor was willing to change the schedule, so we did math first, and then I could leave at break time. She started the class by sharing what they would be studying after the break. Then we had a mini-math lesson, and we worked independently.
I am in the class and struggling with multiplying two digits. I am getting frustrated. I would check my answer, erase and try again, more than once, felt like a dozen times. I didn’t want to interrupt the professor. Suddenly, a kid came over and asked if he could help me. I asked what level of math he was on, Fractions! I said, sure. He asked me to talk out loud my thoughts as I was doing math. It turned out I was multiplying the number that I was carrying over instead of adding it. He never made me feel stupid. He calmly explained to me my error. He sat next to me and did his math as I was doing mine, so if I became stuck, he could help me again. He did for the rest of the year.
The next day, I walked into the classroom and the professor wanted to talk to me. I thought, oh no, busted since the kid helped me and didn’t do his work. She asked me about the kid and what I said to him. I explained how he was just helping me since I didn’t want to bother her since she was busy with other students. Were we in trouble doing that, I asked. She laughed and told me no, see, that student has never shown an interest in trying to get his GED, but during the break yesterday, he asked what he needed to do to become a math teacher. He explained that he was able to help teach the old lady, and he wants to teach now. She was pleased with my lack of math skills; it motivated the students to do their work.
As I mentioned before, she started the class by sharing what they would be studying after the break. One day after she did this, I asked her if I could address the class. She agreed. I stood up, introduced myself, and explained that I have my high school diploma, and always thought that anyone who didn’t and was getting a GED was a loser. I heard her gasp! Now, I can see, that it takes more brains to get a GED than I ever thought possible. I hear the professor share what you are going to study, and frankly, I don’t recall ever studying any of that in high school. So, if any of you get your GED, I admire you and congratulate you for a job well done. Keep up the great work, you all can do this, I know it! After the math part, I fully expected to be told to leave and never return. Instead, she thanked me for being brutally honest with them. That year, she had 12 get their GED and nine continue to college. The year before I showed up, she had two get their GED and not continue their education.
After my year of being in her class, I was ready to take on college-level math, finally. She contacted me over the summer and asked me if I would like to become an assistant in the GED class. I asked her what were the job duties, she told me that she would love it if I just sat with the students (cannot call them kids anymore) and studied with them. I would have other tasks, but sitting and studying would be the biggest one. I was in her class for four years. Every year, we had more get their GED and go to college than the previous year. She used me as an example in lots of ways. One year, I took the practice GED tests and posted my scores, she encouraged the students to at least take the practice tests and put a check mark if they did better than I did. Nope, they would put their name and gloat how much better they did than me. She worried that it was hurting my feelings. I told her, no, it’s getting them to take the tests, and I am all for it. Now, if it becomes abusive, we will tell them to stop that. None ever crossed the line.
Sadly, COVID closed the class down, but I still hear from the 40+/- that got their GED and went on to the local colleges.
Chocolate Kahlua Cream Bars
Ingredients
Crust
- 1 (18.25 ounce) box devil’s food cake mix*
- 2 eggs
- 1/4 cup water
- 1/4 cup brown sugar
- 1/4 cup soft butter
Filling
- 1/2 cup butter
- 4 cup confectioners’ sugar
- 1/4 cup light cream
- 1/4 cup Kahlua
Topping
- 6 ounces chocolate chips
- 1 tablespoon water
- 4 tablespoons butter
Instructions
Crust
- Combine 1/2 cake mix with above. Blend well. Add remaining cake mix.
- Bake at 375 degrees F for 20 to 25 minutes in greased jellyroll pan.
Filling
- Beat butter and sugar together.
- Add cream and Kahlua.
- Mix in 1 cup of chopped pecans. Spread on base and chill.
Topping
- Melt all ingredients over hot water. Drizzle over filling.
Notes
* 18.25 ounce boxes of cake mix have been replaced by 16.5 ounce and 15.25 ounce boxes. To compensate for the volume loss in a 16 ounce box, whisk 6 tablespoons all-purpose flour into the dry cake mix before proceeding with the recipe. To compensate for the volume loss in a 15.25 ounce box, add 1/2 cup + 3 tablespoons all-purpose flour and 1/4 teaspoon baking powder.