A war with China! What a great idea!

This article is yet another in a series trying to document the peaking collapse of the United States in all of it’s myrid ways. And it is kind of tiring, don’t you know. I’d rather just do other things with my time, but we; everyone of us, are now in the mist of one of the most monumental shakeups in the world. It’s really very stunning. We are living history right now.

So how about getting yourself a nice beer, and grabbing some toasted Italian or French crusty bread, and placing some cheese, onions, tomatoes, and olive oil and sit down and read this article. The world seems to be going down into the gutter, but that’s an illusion.

It’s only the United States, and those foolish nations that chain themselves to it.

War with China! Another Bright Idea from the Yankee Capital

Fred Reed • December 12, 2021

• 2,300 Words • From HERE •

Discussions of war with China over Taiwan often assume a short, regional war won by superior American technology, after which things go on approximately as before.

A few observations:

Overconfidence

First, overconfidence is an occupational disease of militaries and militarists. Wars very often fail to proceed according to the expectations of the aggressors and not infrequently end in catastrophe.

The American Civil War was expected to be over in an afternoon at First Manassas; wrong by four years and 630,000 dead, equivalent to over six million today.

When Napoleon invaded Russia, he did not foresee Russian troops marching in Paris, which is what happened.

When Germany invaded France in 1914, it expected a short, victorious war of movement, and got four years of a losing attrition war.

When the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor, GIs sleeping with their daughters in Tokyo was not among their war aims, but it is what happened.

When the French went back into Vietnam after WW II, being catastrophically defeated by les jaunes at Dien Bien Phu was not a strategic objective.

When America invaded Vietnam, Washington did not expect a panicked flight from atop the Embassy.

When Hitler invaded Russia, GIs in Berlin were not in his plans.

When Russia invaded Afghanistan, it did not expect the same outcome that the Americans should have expected, but didn’t, when they did exactly the same thing.

The list could be extended. Caution often is a wiser plan than martial enthusiasm.

Overestimation of ability

Second, America starts its wars by [1] overestimating its own capacities, [2] underestimating the enemy, and [3] misunderstanding the nature of the war it is getting into.

There is probably a manual on this.

Usually the US has no end game and no “what if” plan in case the unforeseen occurs. These traits are clear in America’s wars since Korea.

The reason for this curious behavior is that war is only tangentially a rational endeavor, being chiefly a limbic, instinctually driven habit probably of genetic provenance.

War is just what men do, tribe against tribe, country against country, empire against empire, world without end. War is a major, perhaps the major, focus of human endeavor.

A glance at history reveals it to be chiefly a tapestry of war. The literature of civilizations reflects this: The Gilgamesh Epic, the Iliad, the Aeneid, El Cid, Orlando Furioso, Lord of the Rings.

Taiwan

Does America have a clear reason for defending Taiwan? It is not of vital importance to America, and arguably not even of minor importance.

The fact is, that very few Americans know quite where it is, and few can distinguish it from Thailand.

If it became part of China almost no one would notice.

Before getting into an unpredictable war with a massively populous nuclear power of formidable economic and military resources on the other side of the world, it might be wise to answer the question, “Why? What do we gain? How do we get out of said war?”

Regarding war in Chinese waters:

The US fleet has not been in combat since 1945, over seventy-five years ago.

American pilots have not flown against a competent enemy since 1973, almost half a century ago.

People’s Liberation Army Navy J-15 “Flying Shark” fighters parked about the Chinese aircraft carrier Liaoning

Enormous changes in technology and armament have occurred in the intervening years.

Nobody really knows what a battle of naval forces against modern antiship missiles would look like. Those who can guess are not sanguine.

Most warships today lack armor.

Anyone looking at what a couple of French Exocet missiles did to the USS Stark in 1987 would not bet on equally unarmored Ticos or Arleigh Burkes.

An aircraft carrier is a large bladder of aviation fuel wrapped around high explosives.

Look at the accidental launch in 1967 of one Zuni five-inch ground-attack missile aboard the USS Forrestal, igniting raging fires, cooking off bombs, killing 134 sailors and putting the ship in the repair yard for many months.

Militaries grow slack in extended periods of peace.

Training decreases to save money. War stocks of tank treads are cannibalized for training and aren’t there when war comes; the company that made them has gone out of business. Supplies of critical parts dwindle as budgets go to procurement of future hardware.

After all, nobody really expects war. Rapid mobilization, it turns out, is impossible.

Conscription?

If the war was not won as quickly and decisively as hoped, as it very likely would not be, would an American public already under severe economic stress support the heavy cost of a war having no obvious end point or relevance to their lives? Conscription?

Beltway thinking

Within the Washington Beltway many seem to think that China is Cambodia with more people.

Some in Washington harbor a residual belief that America is militarily supreme, that its mere entrance into war seals the outcome.

Think again, carefully.

Rand has wargamed regional war in the Strait and South China Sea and concluded that America has a very good chance of losing.

The Chinese are smart, and excellent engineers.

Chinese students dominate America’s best technical universities and the elite high schools. CalTech and MIT, for example.

Look at the Chinese space program, the upcoming 360 mph maglev trains using high-temperature superconductivity.

The Chinese are not little-leaguers. They have put many resources into antiship missiles specifically designed for US carriers. These, note, greatly outrange carrier aviation.

Iraq was predicted to be a “cakewalk.” China won’t be.

Japan

Allies? In naval circles there is much talk about the First Island Chain and an assumption that Japan will join a war against China to protect Taiwan, or at least let its bases be used by American forces.

Are we sure?

Japan is well within missile and air range of China.

Japan is within missile and air range of China.

All of its petroleum arrives by sea, and China has pretty decent submarines. Japan’s trade mostly moves by sea.

China is a crucial trading partner whose elimination in a war would devastate the Japanese economy.

Japan is close to China.

America is not.

Tokyo might worry that America would grow weary of the war and go home, as it usually does, and leave Japan, all alone, in a shooting war with China.

How would that end?

What stake does Japan have in the independence of Taiwan?

Today it trades with both Taiwan and China. If China absorbed the island, Japan would continue trading with both. Only the letterhead would change. Are we quite, quite sure Tokyo would want any part of this?

South Korea

South Korea?

Its cities and entire economy are within missile range of China. Does it really want to get into a shooting war with its huge neighbor, which has a land border with the peninsula, to maintain American hegemony in the Pacific?

Having gotten into a war, how would it get out?

The Koreans may have thought of this.

Wars as imagined inside the Beltway often seem to assume that the enemy will just lie there and be bombed without doing anything untoward or unexpected.

Are we sure?

The United States has 28,000 troops and their families within range of Chinese weaponry, the killing of whom would force Washington into desperate measures.

Could China encourage North Korea to attack southward, creating a two-front war far beyond Washington’s ability to handle? Or Kim to think he saw a chance and attack on his own initiative?

Might China annex Myanmar? Perhaps this is farfetched. Perhaps it isn’t. Remember that nobody expected China’s entry into the Korean war.

Taiwan

One might suspect that Taipei, seeing overwhelming forces arrayed against it across the Strait, will one day cut the best deal it can with Beijing rather than be devastated first and then have to accept whatever conditions Beijing chose to impose.

It could get a sweetheart deal as Beijing would much prefer this to invading with all of its risks.

Here is a factor I am not competent to judge, but that might be worth judging: The Chinese, as I knew them long ago when I lived in Taiwan, are (very) racially aware and nationalistic.

The Taiwanese are Chinese.

You can bet they know of the Legations, the Opium Wars, the Boxers, the burning of the Summer Palace, the Korean War.

As I write, the most popular movie on the mainland is about a Chinese victory over Americans in the Korean War.

What might a Chinese attack on Taiwan look like?

The Chinese general staff mysteriously does not confide in me, but a good guess is easy. The Chinese often do beach-assault exercises on their side of the strait, obviously practice for the genuine assault.

One of these turns suddenly into the real thing. Ballistic missiles crater Taiwan’s military runways, missiles in large numbers hit air defenses.

Troop ships head for Taiwan, getting there in eight hours at fifteen knots, helicopters and paratroops in less.

China’s large and reasonably good air force bombs and bombs and bombs.

After twenty-four hours, the US is still trying to decide what is happening, talking to the JCS, asking the President what to do.

Victory

Nathan Bedford Forrest, the talented Confederate general, is said to have said that the secret of victory is to “git thar fustest with the mostest.”

In the event of a surprise attack, how long would it take—in the real world, not in PowerPoint slides—for America to get there with how much of what?

If the Chinese got substantial forces ashore, it would be the end of the story.

Keeping troops out of an island is one thing, getting them out quite another. Not even John Bolton—perhaps not even John Bolton—can imagine that America could win a land war with China in Asia.

Selling the American public on a large war over things in which it has no interest would be difficult.

Under these circumstances, the chances are nonnegligible that the US would make loud noises, huff and puff, save face as best it could, and do nothing.

What would REALLY happen?

But let us assume that Washington fought and lost the regional war, Taiwan perhaps surrendering after the U.S. lost a dozen ships and a carrier was disabled.

What would Washington do after such a humiliation?

Never underestimate the influence of vanity on world affairs.

The hawks in DC have elevated titles and, sometimes, considerable ability, but they also have the same hormones and egos as patrons in Joe’s Bar in Chicago. A Chinese victory in the style of Tsushima Strait would end the world’s view of America as an invincible hegemon.

The fernbar Napoleons might well decide to up the ante and turn a regional into a world war.

This it would win.

“Win.”

Perhaps by blocking the Strait of Malacca and threatening the Three Gorges Dam. The expectation in the Pentagon would likely be that Beijing would see the futility of resistance and surrender.

But if it did not?

The REAL facts

America’s trade with China in goods in 2020 was $660 billion, $120 billion of that being exports, making it America’s largest trading partner…

Cutting this off would wreck the American economy.

This is far more than a matter of iPhones and cheap plastic buckets for Walmart. Though most may not know it, America is an economic dependency of China.

The US gets from China countless things it cannot make but cannot do without.

For example, cars require computers to control their ignition and transmissions. Where do we think these are made?

Companies like Boeing sound American but many vital assemblies come from China.

High-end semiconductors, crucial to today’s economies, come predominantly from East Asian companies, notably Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Company and Samsung, both of which would be hostage to Chinese attack.

The great majority of rare earths, critical to the manufacture of chips, come from China.

Similar considerations exist for industry after industry.

While America has the technology to make most of the things it gets from China, it does not have the manufacturing capacity, and would need years to develop it.

Has anyone in Washington checked industry by industry to see what the effects of the end of imports would actually be?

Further, China is the largest trading partner of most of the world, Germany and the European Union for example, and close with most of the rest.

If an American war took China out of the global supply chain, [1] the resulting depression would make 1929 look like the height of prosperity, [2] turn the entire earth against the US, and likely [3] lead to the lynching of everyone in Washington.

Never mentioned is that America is trying, with considerable success, to block China’s economic progress by preventing its acquisition of advanced semiconductors.

Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Company, the world’s largest and most advanced manufacturer of chips, is in Taiwan. Reunification of Taiwan with China would solve this critical problem. Beijing has probably thought of this.

Considering the costs, risks, and benefits if any of such a war, the question may be, “How bright an idea is this?”

China’s missiles could dust the US military in minutes — here’s what would happen if they tried

Alex Lockie, Business Insider US

Apr 02, 2019, 10:38 AM

China’s massive missile forces could savage US air and naval forces in the Pacific, lighting up ports and airfields, and blowing up F-35s, F-22s, and possibly aircraft carriers before they could respond.
War-gaming experts point to this as a persistent problem with US forces in the Pacific, but it’s far from a clear-cut win for China.
The US has a number of ways it can predict, prevent, or blunt a missile attack, and once the US military and its allies kick into gear, China will face a mighty wrath.

Experts at the cutting edge of simulated warfare have spoken: China would handily defeat the US military in the Pacific with quick bursts of missile fired at air bases.

The exact phrasing was that the US was getting “its ass handed to it” in those simulations, Breaking Defense reported the RAND analyst David Ochmanek as saying earlier in March.

“In every case I know of,” Robert Work, a former deputy secretary of defence, said, “the F-35 rules the sky when it’s in the sky, but it gets killed on the ground in large numbers.”

Against China, which has emerged as the US’s most formidable rival, this problem becomes more acute. China’s vast, mountainous territory gives it millions of square kilometres in which to hide its extensive fleet of mobile long-, medium-, and short-range missiles.

In the opening minutes of a battle against the US, Beijing could unleash a barrage of missiles that would nail US forces in Guam, Japan, the Philippines, South Korea, and possibly Australia. With China’s growing anti-ship capability, even US aircraft carriers in the region would likely come under intense fire.

For the US, this would be the feared attack in which F-35s and F-22s, fifth-generation aircraft and envy of the world, are blown apart in their hangars, runways are cratered, and ships are sunk in ports.

The remaining US forces in this case would be insufficient to back down China’s air and sea forces, which could then easily scoop up a prize such as Taiwan.

Additionally, the US can’t counter many of China’s most relevant missile systems because of the Intermediate-Range Nuclear Forces treaty it signed with Russia, which prohibits missiles with ranges between 500 kilometres and 5,470 kilometres – the type it would need to hold Chinese targets at equal risk. (The US is withdrawing from that treaty.)

So given China’s clear advantage in missile forces and the great incentive to knock out the best military with a sucker punch, why doesn’t it try?

Politics

China could light up much of the Pacific with a blistering salvo of missiles and do great harm to US ships and planes, but they likely won’t because it would start World War III.

China wouldn’t just be attacking the US. It would be attacking Japan and South Korea at a minimum. Whatever advantage China gained by kicking off a fight this way would have to balance against a combined response from the US and its allies.

The US is aware of the sucker-punch problem. In the event that tensions rise enough that a strike is likely, the US would simply spread its forces out among its bases and harden important structures, such as hangars, so they could absorb more punishment from missiles.

Potential targets China needed to strike would multiply, and the deployment of electronic and physical decoys would further complicate things for Beijing. For US ships at sea, the use of electronic decoys and onboard missile defenses would demand China throw tremendous numbers of missiles at the platforms, increasing the cost of such a strike.

Key US military bases will also have ballistic-missile defences, which could blunt the attack somewhat.

The US also monitors the skies for ballistic missiles, which would give it some warning time. Alert units could scramble their aircraft and be bearing down on China’s airspace just after the first missiles hit.

Justin Bronk, a military-aviation expert at the Royal United Service Institute, pointed out at the institute’s Combat Air Survivability conference that when the US hit Syria’s Al Shayrat air base with 58 cruise missiles, planes were taking off from the base again within 24 hours.

Payback is a … consideration

Missiles brigades that just fired and revealed their positions would be sitting ducks for retaliation by the US or its allies.

Japan, which will soon have 100 F-35s, some of which will be tied into US Navy targeting networks, would jump into the fight swiftly.

China would have to mobilize a tremendous number of aircraft and naval assets to address that retaliatory strike. That mobilization, in addition to the preparations for the initial strike, may tip Beijing’s hand, telegraphing the sucker punch and blunting its damage on US forces.

While China’s missile forces pose a huge threat to the US, one punch isn’t enough to knock out the world’s best military, but it is enough to wake it up.

…

Now consider this…

It is not ONLY China. It’s fighting China + Russia together.

Together.

If all the studies point to massive defeats against China alone, imagine the horror when fighting a paired Russia and China together.

It is a suicide move.

Consider this.

Losing in a war is never a pleasant experience. I am sure that many generals throughout history can attest to this fact.

Consider what happened to the entire Nazi German Sixth Army when it was surrounded and trapped inside Stalingrad…

How German Field Marshal Paulus was taken prisoner

From Russian Insider. All credit observed.

Gaunt, pale and emaciated, the commander of the Wehrmacht’s 6th Army looked like a hunted animal to the Soviet military commanders.

On the night of January 31, 1943, units of the 64th Army’s 38th Motorized Rifle Brigade broke through to the department store building in the center of Stalingrad, sealing it off from all sides. According to captured Germans, it was there that the headquarters of Friedrich Paulus’s 6th Army was stationed. The Soviet ‘Operation Koltso’ (Ring) to defeat the enemy grouping encircled in the city was approaching its finale…

The “beast’s lair”

After the Soviet troops opened intensive fire from machine guns and mortars on the building at about six o’clock in the morning, the shooting from the German side stopped. White flags appeared from the ground and second floors. The enemy wanted to start negotiations.

On the order of the brigade commander, Colonel Ivan Burmakov, a group of negotiators led by Senior Lieutenant Fyodor Ilchenko headed for the department store building. A German officer who met the Soviet soldiers told them through an interpreter: “Our top commander wants to talk to your top commander.” To that, Ilchenko retorted: “Well, our top commander has many other things to attend to. He is not here. You’ll have to talk to me.”.

Ignoring the German officer’s halfhearted request to hand over their weapons, the Soviet negotiators started going down to the basement where Friedrich Paulus had his HQ. “The basement was literally packed with soldiers – there were hundreds of them here. Worse than a tram! They were all unwashed and hungry and they smelt to high heaven! They all looked desperately frightened. They had huddled here to hide from the mortar fire,” recalled the senior lieutenant. Hearing the sound of gunfire, Ilchenko made a grab for his holster, but it only turned out to be suicides.

The negotiators were met by the commander of the Wehrmacht’s 71st Infantry Division, Maj-Gen Friedrich Roske, and the 6th Army’s chief of staff, Gen. Arthur Schmidt. They led the Soviet soldiers to Paulus’s room. “The Field Marshal was lying on an iron bed without a uniform, in just his shirt,” recalled Ilchenko. “A candle-end was burning on the table, illuminating an accordion lying on the couch. Paulus didn’t greet us but he sat up. He had the appearance of a sick and physically exhausted man and his face was twitching in a nervous tic.”

Negotiations

An ordinary lieutenant could not accept the capitulation of the German commander and, gradually, representatives of the senior and top-level Red Army command started arriving at the department store. Several hours later, accompanied by several colonels and lieutenant-colonels, Maj-Gen Ivan Laskin, chief of staff of the 64th Army, came down to the basement. In an attempt to distance himself in every possible way from the capitulation, Paulus delegated the right to negotiate to Roske and Schmidt.

While the Field Marshal was “tidying himself up” in the room next door, the Soviet negotiators presented his generals with an ultimatum: The encircled grouping must immediately stop any resistance, lay down its weapons and surrender to the Soviet troops in an orderly manner.

Tired of waiting for Friedrich Paulus himself to finally appear, the Soviet commanders went into his room. The German commander, according to Laskin’s recollections, greeted the members of the delegation with a sentence in broken Russian: “Field Marshal of the German Army Paulus renders himself prisoner to the Red Army.” He apologized that, since his new rank had only been conferred on him on January 30, his new uniform wasn’t ready and he was compelled to appear in his colonel-general’s uniform. “And anyway, my new uniform will hardly be of any use to me now,” the commander added with a wry smile.

At that point in time, the 6th Army in Stalingrad was cut into two groupings isolated from each other. As a result of the talks, the southern pocket of German troops, commanded by General Roske, was to capitulate. At the same time, Paulus declined to order the northern pocket to surrender on the grounds that, since January 30, its commander, Col-Gen Karl Strecker, was directly accountable to Hitler.

Inglorious end

Street fighting was still under way in the center of Stalingrad when German officers, accompanied by Soviet commanding officers, set off in vehicles to order their units to cease firing.

After all the formalities had been settled and the Field Marshal had received guarantees of his personal safety, he was led out of the basement, along with his staff officers. The area around the department store had by then come under the full control of Soviet infantry and Wehrmacht soldiers were clearing sectors that had been mined.

“Soviet and German soldiers who just a few hours earlier had been firing on each other stood calmly next to one another in the courtyard holding their guns in their hands or slung on their shoulder. But how shockingly different their external appearance was!” recalled Wilhelm Adam, adjutant to the 6th Army commander. “The German soldiers – ragged, in thin greatcoats over threadbare uniforms, as thin as skeletons – presented emaciated figures exhausted half to death, with sunken, unshaved features. The Red Army soldiers were well nourished, full of vigor and dressed in fine winter uniforms… I was deeply moved by something else. Our soldiers were not beaten, let alone shot. Amidst the ruins of their city which the Germans had destroyed, Soviet soldiers would pull a piece of bread or cigarettes or tobacco out of their pocket and offer them to the weary, half-starved German soldiers.”

Sergeant Pyotr Alkhutov was present when the German commander was taken prisoner: “Paulus was haggard and clearly ill. He attempted to conduct himself in a suitably dignified manner, but in his condition it was difficult for him to manage. On that frosty morning in Stalingrad, it dawned on all the men of the Red Army and the overwhelming majority of the German soldiers that this was the beginning of the end for them and the start of our Victory.”

A car to the neighboring village of Beketovka, where the 64th Army HQ was stationed, awaited the Field Marshal. There, he would be interrogated by the Army commander Lt-Gen Mikhail Shumilov and the Don Front commander Lt-Gen Konstantin Rokossovsky. Ahead for Friedrich Paulus lay Soviet camps, work in the anti-fascist National Committee for a Free Germany and life in the GDR for the short time left to him…

On its way to the HQ, the car caught up with columns of German prisoners dragging themselves along the road. Unwashed, with unkempt beards, they wore comical-looking makeshift snow boots and were wrapped in towels and women’s headscarves.

Laskin gave the driver a sign to slow down to allow the German commander to observe them closely and thoroughly. “It’s appalling…” pronounced Paulus somberly. “A shameful capitulation, the terrible tragedy of the soldiers. And, until now, the 6th Army was regarded as the best field army in the Wehrmacht…”

The rest of the story…

By February 1943, Russian troops had retaken Stalingrad and captured nearly 100,000 German soldiers, though pockets of resistance continued to fight in the city until early March.

Most of the captured soldiers died in Russian prison camps, either as a result of disease or starvation.

The loss at Stalingrad was the first failure of the war to be publicly acknowledged by Hitler. It put Hitler and the Axis powers on the defensive, and boosted Russian confidence as it continued to do battle on the Eastern Front in World War II.

In the end, many historians believe the Battle at Stalingrad marked a major turning point in the conflict. It was the beginning of the march toward victory for the Allied forces of Russia, Britain, France and the United States.

MM Comments

There is no doubt that the people inside of Washington DC are desirous of a war with China, and Russia. That is so obvious as to defy any statements to the contrary.

The big question is why?

When presented with this question, we are given the following excuses…

Insanity of the leadership.
The Leadership is in a dangerous “echo chamber”.
There is no leadership and the nation is on “autopilot” following instructions laid down thirty years ago.
Alien creatures took over the minds of the Leadership.
The Leadership are “Old Empire” entities.
The Leadership would rather die than take second place in the global stage.
A need to unify a fractured United States though war.

I don’t know the real answers.

I have my thoughts and opinions on this and I have discussed these previously.

What I am going to say here is that when anyone talks about a war, any war, but most especially one involving both Chian and Russia, you MUST also talk about what happens when you lose the war.

You MUST discuss what happens afterwards. Because I can tell you, it is impossible for the United States to win against any war against a unified Asia. Every single study, think tank, war game and analysis has verified this.

So ponder that thought.

Because the stage is set.

The American Leadership wants a war against Asia and it will lose. So what will happen afterwards?

Think about it.

What happens NEXT…

What ever remains of the United States will be quite different. It will be a complete blank sheet of paper and the victors will rewrite what will happen.

Completely.

It’s going to be very distasteful inside of a collapsed, ruined, and conquered United States. It will be very harsh.

The best thing that you can do is to be part of a local community and provide benefit to that community in every way possible. You shouldn’t wait until that day and that need occurs, but rather start now by laying a strong foundation in relationships with those around you.

And do your affirmations, and all the rest.

Be the Rufus.

Now let’s talk about something near and dear to my heart…

Goulash.

Goulash, is a soup or stew of meat and vegetables seasoned with paprika and other spices. Originating in Hungary, goulash is a common meal predominantly eaten in Central Europe but also in other parts of Europe. It is one of the national dishes of Hungary and a symbol of the country.

My mother used to make it a couple of times a month, but I haven’t had it in years. None of my wives knew how to make it. You cannot get it in restrurants, and there’s no frozen versions of it anywhere in the supermarkets.

I am thus forced to day dream about it here.

Goulash.

It shouldn’t be too difficult to make, don’t you think?

There are different flavors and styles of this dish. All of them look delicious.

Some have a nice hearty soup broth, with others are simply flavored meats like this…

Well, no matter how you look at it, it certainly looks great, and would go well with some crusty bread, or rice. Oh, yeah, a nice salad or fruit plate, and don’t foget pairing it with a nice wine. Yum!

Do you know what would be nice?

Go invite some friends over. Tell them that you are experimenting with Hungarian Goulash and would like them tom come over, eat a nice meal with wine, listen to some tunes, and play some cards. Wouldn’t that be lovely?

I really think that it would.

Goulash with a spoonful of sour crème on top.

Imagine the meal.

A nice loaf of bread. Some wine, maybe a chardonnay or a light red. Some kind of vegitable side. Maybe snow peas with garlic and spring onions. Or some slaw. The aroma fills the air.

Just imagine it.

Big chunks of beef, potatoes, parsnips and carrots in a paprika riddled broth. Hot and steaming with crusty pieces of bread for dipping.

Really good paprika is the key to an authentic Hungarian Goulash ,or Gulyas. It is to be found everywhere in Budapest and it would be a good idea to try the different versions, both sweet and hot. There are good paprikas from Hungary found in most large supermarkets in the USA as well as online sources.

The goulash experience inside of Hungary…

Here’s a recepie…

And keep in mind and remember, the idea is a was to share your life with others in colorful, fun, tasty and interesting ways. I just cannot help but think that Hungarian Goulash might be a very good vehicle to achieve this.

Do you want more?

You can find more articles related to this in my latest index; A New Beginning. And in it are elements of the old, some elements regarding the transition, and some elements that look towards the future.

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Things are very serious now

Well, we all have been dealing with a host of disturbing Geo-Political actions originating out of the USA for decades. And over the last few years they have become more brazen, more outrageous and more daring. It’s been building up to a crescendo.

This build-up has triggered actions from the rest of the world, and the most notable being Russia, and China.

China and Russia has laid down “Red Lines”.

The United States ignored them.

The United States Has no idea…

Alex Krainer:

Western powers seem to have largely lost institutional brakes on waging war.

Someone cries “human rights,” and we seem prepared to obliterate entire nations with hardly any debate, discussion, or any long-term plan.

The consent for war, or “kinetic action”, is simply contrived by myriad think-tanks, often directly or indirectly funded by the military-industrial complex.

With unhindered access to the media, these organizations produce rhetoric that rationalizes hostility, demonization of targeted adversaries and justifications for war.

Today, as tensions with Russia have escalated to a boiling point, some of them draw historical parallels between today’s Russia and Nazi Germany. Among others, Victoria Nuland and Republican Congressman Adam Kinzinger have recently invoked Britain’s 1938 policy of appeasement that caused the destruction of Czechoslovakia and empowered Hitler.

The insinuation is that today, Ukraine is Czechoslovakia, Donbas is Sudetenland and that Vladimir Putin is Hitler.

If the parallels were valid, they would imply that we should pay almost any price to avoid repeating Neville Chamberlain’s errors of judgment that plunged Europe into the tragedy of World War II.

Of course, the parallels are entirely false, but unfortunately, this is not widely understood.

Things are serious now…

Then Russia forced the United States to comply and answer their concerns in [1] writing and [2] in public about placement of nuclear weapons on the Russian border.

When it did get an “answer”, it was told to keep it secret. Which fell outside the Russian “demands”.

“The content of the US response on security guarantees allows you to count on a serious conversation, but on secondary topics."

"There is no answer to the most important question – about the non-expansion of NATO to the east.”

“Our President will now decide on the next steps.”

-Lavrov

You know, over the last two months, the expression on the faces of Lavrov and Putin remind me of a scene from “The Sopranos”.

It’s very serious.

Pictures

For some perspective…

And his counterpart in the Ukraine that NATO and the USA embrace…

And now, let’s look at the military…

And here is what you have in the Ukraine…

And the NATO troops that will take on Russia…

The course of action

A “white tent” was set up and ignored.

Now the “red tents” are up.

From now on in, things are going to get very ugly. It is no wonder that all of Asia is very somber and serious right now.

They remember history. They know what needs to occur…

I won’t let what happened to my father happen to me.

The Sopranos

As I said, the expressions on the faces of Putin, Lavrov, and the generals are very serious. The color is drained out of their faces, and they seem gripped with steeling determination and dangerous determination. It well reminds me of a scene from the television show “The Sopranos”.

In it, the (mob boss) Tony had to kill a beloved cousin, and a long time childhood friend to prevent a massive gang war. He didn’t want to do it at all, but he knew that if he didn’t, many people would die.

This was the death of Tony Blundetto (Buscemi).

In that case, Blundetto killed Joey “Peeps” from the Leotardo crew (a different mob).

This was really a very, very bad thing to do and very serious.

Since Phil Leotardo (Frank Vincent) was intent on making Blundetto’s death the most painful event in recorded history, Tony did him a favor by making it quick.

In the blink of an eye — and the blast of a shotgun — Tony spared his cousin the torture he would have received in Leotardo’s hands.

So reluctantly, but determined, he got his shotgun and killed his childhood friend. Then he called the other mob boss where to find the body.

He hastened the death of his cousin, and prevented his long-drawn-out torture. He also prevented a long ongoing mob war.

You Tube

Scene:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c9lbju1WpsQ

Scene on MM here

video 22MB

Tony Blundetto Dead – The Sopranos HD-2022-01-28_06.50.32

Conclusions

I am absolutely convinced that what ever “leadership” is directing things behind the scenes in the United States and in Europe, they have no fucking idea what they are dealing with.

Maybe it’s the notorious American “echo chambers” where they believe their own propaganda.

Or maybe it’s all the power, wealth and drugs that got into their heads.

Or, as late John Kenneth Galbraith noted,

“People of privilege will always risk their complete destruction rather than surrender any material part of their advantage”.

Whatever the root cause…

…It doesn’t matter. It’s now too late. The “white tents” were rejected. And the “red tents” are out.

Well…

This isn’t what anyone thinks it is, and judging from the American “news”, all the collective West are setting themselves up for some horrible things. Maybe America will endure. Maybe America will survive. Maybe America will emerge unscathed as the rest of the world burns. Maybe Jesus will come forth and protect all Americans because of their inherent worthiness…

But I will tell you this…

When cold-blooded killers believe that they need to hurt you, and hurt you bad, you need to RUN…

Do you want more?

New Beginnings 3

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Well, it appears that the Great Inflection Point of massive Geo-Political change has arrived!

I hope that I am not alone in being sick and tired of this pathetic, tiresome attempt to throw up a smokescreen and hide the inevitable reality of what is about to unfold. 

In case it isn’t completely clear to you yet, I would like to spell it all out. 

I am normally more cautious when making specific predictions, but in this case our immediate future has been carefully plotted out for us by Russia and China, with the US and its assorted puppets reduced to the status of non-playable characters in a video game who can only do one thing: hide behind a dense smokescreen of risible lies.

-A Short-Term Geopolitical Forecast

This build-up has triggered actions from the rest of the world, and the most notable being Russia, and China.

During the last year, both Russia and China have established FIRM “red lines” that are absolute and that WILL result in very negative consequences for the United States if they are not treated seriously.

And they have not been taken seriously.

Well, the great point of inflection has been reached. The pivot point of Geo-political alignments and strengths is tripping RIGHT NOW.

Some “tell-tails”…

Black Operations 101;

Secrets are actually secret. Anything “leaked” in the news is a distraction and not an actual secret. Anything and everything you read in the American and Western Bloc “news” are intentional distractions. Real significant events are never reported on, and if so, it is long, long after the fact.

Thus, the purpose of the “news” media is a barometer. It’s a measure of what distractions are being put in place. The bigger; the more enormous the hyped up distraction, the more significant the actual events are.

And there is one major, significant, distraction going on right now. It’s the “so-called” Russian build-up to invade the Ukraine.

In fact, it is so frenzied and hysterical that it is like a flashing neon red light and howling siren to all of us who have ever worked for the US Government. It tells us that “something big is up”, and to look for other things. These other things that are not being reported.

The lack of news coverage on these other things is an indicator of what is really going on.

Distractions are not what are happening. Their purpose is to take your focus away from the real events.

What is not being reported?

Let’s “cut to the chase“.

The largest American Navy build up in the history of America, and indeed the history of the earth. That’s what.

For some (only) God knows reason, the United States has decided to deploy most all of its massive naval forces off the Chinese coast. This includes five separate flotillas. Each one consisting of multiple aircraft and VTOL carriers, submarines and cruisers, destroyers and support vessels.

Along with that are elements of MAC (the Air Force Military Airlift Command) ferrying troops and munitions and arms to the Pacific. To include Korea, Japan, and other bases throughout the Pacific.

This is comparable to the build up for the Normandy Invasion of “D Day”.

In short, the largest concentration of United States Naval and Marine forces are now concentrated off the coast of China. And it is not being made public.

What’s going on?

Within a few weeks, maybe days, Russian President Putin and Chinese President Xi Peng will attend the Winter Olympics. During the event, they will formalize and make a number of significant and strategic Geo-Political policy announcements to the world.

No one knows what they will be.

What we do know is that they will be significant responses to a series of the United States malevolent actions, ignorance, and responses to its failure to take the “red lines” of both China, and Russia seriously.

Huh? You might ask.

What are the “Red Lines”?

Russia told the United States to [1] stop CIA backed “color revolutions” in and around the borders of its nation. (Belarus, Ukraine, Moldova, Kazakhstan, etc.) And, [2] to stop the placement of nuclear-capable missiles and munitions on its borders.

When it did get an “answer”, it was told to keep it secret. Which fell outside the Russian “demands”.

“The content of the US response on security guarantees allows you to count on a serious conversation, but on secondary topics."

"There is no answer to the most important question – about the non-expansion of NATO to the east.”

“Our President will now decide on the next steps.”

-Lavrov

China told the United States to also [1] stop CIA backed “color revolutions” in and around the borders of its nation. [2] To stop the placement of nuclear-capable missiles and munitions on its borders, and in its neighbors. It also [3] told the United States to STAY OUT of Chinese domestic affairs. Which means Taiwan, Hong Kong, Tibet, and the Uighurs. All of which are internal domestic matters.

China never received any answers.

Both China and Russia told the United States to stop attacking the BRI trade routes in all the many flavors of hybrid-war that it has been engaging in.

So the USA ignored the “red lines”

The United States simply continued its actions.

Failure to show serious actions to avoid conflict, shows little respect for that national sovereignty of both nations. And is strongly suggestive that the United States plans to engage in a kinetic war with Asia.

Both nations are tired of the games, and “bullshit”.

They put up their “white tents”, and offered branches of peace, and the United States ignored them.

So what is next, will be announced during the Winter Olympics.

Possible Consequences…

I can devote all sorts of speculations on what can occur. The top speculations are…

Formal Military Treaty between China and Russia. Not really needed, the relationship is far closer than any treaty, and both militaries train with each other. They share technology together, and have military liaisons in all of their military headquarters. It seems silly that this relationship would be formalized on a scrap of parchment. This would crush the hopes and dreams of the American neocon block.

Formal announcement of extraction from SWIFT. China and Russia might tell the rest of the world that if they want to buy goods made in China, and materials out of Russia, that they cannot use the US Dollar. This would send the US economy in a tail-spin.

Sanctions against America. This is taking a “page out of the United States playbook“, and giving the USA a “dose of its own medicine“. This would stop all trade between the USA and Asia, and any nation that wants Chinese products from Chinese factories will be punished and sanctioned if they trade with the USA. This would completely collapse the USA society.

Nationalization of American businesses and products. No longer any copyright protections. No more Coke, Microsoft, Ford, GM, McDonald’s. All their enormous profits inside of China will fall to zero, and replacement companies will take their place. This would create an economic depression, societal disruption, and political chaos like no other.

And more…

Conclusions

Of course, there are all sorts of other things that can happen. But we will find out soon enough what is going to happen. So there’s no point in too much speculation.

I don’t think that it will be “World War III”, though I can tell the reader that both China and Russia have knives at the throat of the United States right now, and if it tries and “funny business” there would be lethal consequences.

Let’s just wait and see.

But remember, boys and girls, don’t focus on the distraction. Focus on what is not being reported upon.

Do you want more?

New Beginnings 3

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Russian commentaries on the collapsing United States part 5

This is part five.

Lavrov said Russia is hoping for a written response in within a week. 

Olympics begin in about a week and a half. 

Martyanov and Orlov have suggested the possibility military alliance between Russia and China being signed in the meetings that will occur then. 

Formal alliance or not, I would think a joint strategy or ensuring Russia's and China's separate strategies complement each other will occur.

Russia with its security proposal,rather starting high, have started at the bare minimum they require which is a buffer zone in the age of hypersonic missiles.

This is how Pepe Escobar puts it. 

"In fact, whether U.S. and NATO functionaries like it or not, what’s really happening in the realpolitk realm is Russia dictating new terms from a position of power. In a nutshell: you may learn the new game in town in a peaceful manner, civilized dialogue included, or you will learn the hard way via a dialogue with Mr. Iskandr, Mr. Kalibr, Mr. Khinzal and Mr. Zircon."

In that article from 25th December his view on the Russia China partnership vs the US "Incidentally: any possible, future “counter threats” will be coordinated between Russia and China."

Dugin: Having Pulled the Gun Russia Must Shoot or Lose

Dugin applies "street-fighting" lessons to...the fate of millions

Alexander Dugin 20 Jan 22

The Russia-NATO talks have taken the confrontation to a new level. Russia is firmly insisting on a formal refusal to accept the post-Soviet countries into NATO; the West persists in its position, offering in exchange something unnecessary and unimportant, or at least of secondary importance…

Moscow’s position in this case — and this is a new and important element — is not reactive and not passive, but offensive.

NATO has been actively pressuring us for 30 years, including during the whole of Putin’s 20-year period. But only now is Russia ripe to challenge this for real.

In big politics, only force decides everything. “For real” means “by force”.

Moscow is taking a serious swing. And now it is impossible to take a step back, otherwise what was the swing for? We know from gangster movies and from the business of the 90s, and even from street fights, that to pull out a gun (knife, machine gun) and not shoot is almost suicide. Whoever goes for aggravation must realize that if he doesn’t, he will. We are exactly at this point now.

The unipolar world is complete. Contrary to the desperation of Biden and world elites to make one last attempt to save globalism and American hegemony – and this is the meaning of Biden’s campaign slogan (Bild BackBetter – “Rebuild Everything Again and Better”, i.e. “Back to the unipolar 90s”), or Klaus Schwab’s thesis at the Davos forum (Great Reset) – historical time is not reversible: Russia and China already represent two independent poles, solidarity on the major world problems. This means that multipolarity is established here and now.

In history, however, the change of the global world order, alas, is often carried out through wars. Without them, those who lose in no way agree to recognize voluntarily the obvious change. It is a kind of reality check…

Apparently, we still have to do what we should have been done – and wasn’t – in 2014. Yes, the starting conditions are much worse, but better late than never. Nobody counts on “never” anymore. The Russia-NATO meeting showed that clearly. Both sides are ready to escalate, and now to give in means to lose irreversibly. The Kremlin clearly does not intend to do this. But the West simply cannot. That would not just be a loss of face, but an admission of defeat.

As usual, the Russians took a long time to get going, so now they must rush ahead.

Source: Nezigar Telegram channel

A quote

Let me give you this great quote to help put things in perspective…

“Russia plans to engage its nuclear weapons not against those countries where it was launched against Russia, but against the mastermind cities where all the decisions were made. 

To be exact, it is Washington, New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, and numerous other American cities. 

Please fully understand, in case American nuclear weapons are launched from, eg. Taiwan, or Poland, the Russian response will be to hit New York or Washington.”

-Russian Duma deputy, Yevgeny Fyodorov.

This is Chinese policy as well.

War? Don’t Do It

Marko Marjanović 18 Jan 22 1640 From HERE

Russia has delivered an ultimatum to the Empire. If it does not receive a satisfactory response what will the Russian “or else” be? I am sympathetic to the view of boomer commentators (Doctorow, Armstrong, Helmer) that it will not be an invasion of Ukraine but something entirely else. I am sympathetic because I hope they are right. Trouble is when I read their guesses what that something else might be (except Helmer’s who refuses to speculate) it all seems rather underwhelming. All this circus only to station Russian troops in Venezuela or park a missile frigate off the coast of Washington, DC…it just isn’t the sort of stuff that would mean a great deal to Russia. But what does mean a lot to Russia?

Russia has a policy of no-first-use on nuclear weapons, but there is one caveat. If subject to a conventional attack of such ferocity that it should be indistinguishable from a nuclear strike then Russia says it’s atom-splitting time. What does it mean for a conventional attack to be the equivalent of a nuclear one? In Russian historiography the damage the Soviet Union suffered in WW2 (25 million war dead, 60 million people and 40% of industry lost to occupation) is often likened to the equivalent of a nuclear strike. In other words, should there be another Operation Barbarossa Russian atomic forces will not rest. Barbarossa famously advanced to roughly the present-day Russian-Ukrainian border reaching cities such as Kharkov and Rostov.

Might there be another thing that to Russia would be the equivalent of getting hit by a nuclear strike? According to Vladimir Putin yes, there is. In his last year’s article on Ukraine Putin writes that historic Russian lands settled by people who are Rus’ being forged into “an anti-Russia” is the equivalent of an WMD attack on Russia:

It would not be an exaggeration to say that the path of forced assimilation, the formation of an ethnically pure Ukrainian state, aggressive towards Russia, is comparable in its consequences to the use of weapons of mass destruction against us.

Putin argues that if one branch of the Rus people, primarily perhaps due to Soviet-era nation-building, developed a separate non-Russian identity and nation-state that this is a reality that Russia can, and must, live with. But when that state is rabidly anti-Russian that this is crossing a red line:

All the subterfuges associated with the anti-Russia project are clear to us. And we will never allow our historical territories and people close to us living there to be used against Russia. And to those who will undertake such an attempt, I would like to say that this way they will destroy their own country.

Having on its former lands a state composed of its own people who are looking out for their best interest is one thing, but having an entity driven solely by anti-Russianism is entirely another:

Today, the ”right“ patriot of Ukraine is only the one who hates Russia. Moreover, the entire Ukrainian statehood, as we understand it, is proposed to be further built exclusively on this idea. Hate and anger, as world history has repeatedly proved this, are a very shaky foundation for sovereignty, fraught with many serious risks and dire consequences.

The very act of anti-Russia prioritizing reflexive anti-Russianism even over Ukrainian national interests is what convinces Putin it is ultimately illegitimate and possibly “a tool in someone else’s hands”:

Russia is open to dialogue with Ukraine and ready to discuss the most complex issues. But it is important for us to understand that our partner is defending its national interests but not serving someone else’s, and is not a tool in someone else’s hands to fight against us.

No doubt having 50 million of your countrymen with shared ancestry and ethnicity spin out into a separate nation, and then having that nation become increasingly defined by antagonism against you is a bitter pill to swallow. Especially if the separation comes about as a result of top-down policies in the aftermath of a Communist coup. It is also a state of affairs that few powers with the means to challenge it would not seek to rectify. (Lincoln’s invasion of the South comes to mind.)

I do find that a Russian invasion of Ukraine would be totally out of character for what Putin’s Russia has been up until now. But I also remember that Putin has moved the bounds of what was possible for Russia before. Both the 2014 takeover of Crimea and the 2015 expedition to Syria were unthinkable for Russia as it had been until then. Russia in the past twenty years has been capable of some evolution, particularly in the international arena. Putin’s very article on Ukraine would have been entirely unthinkable 20 years prior. It now stands as proof that this old centrist statist has — under the pressure of external forces and under the influence of internal ones — gradually and after much resistance assimilated a smidgeon of Russian nationalism.

I don’t know if Russia is going to march into Ukraine. I certainly don’t know how that is supposed to fix Putin’s problem of Ukraine being “anti-Russia”. Isn’t a war between the two only going to deepen animosities and provide Ukrainian nationalists with more fodder? Try as they might at least until now it has been very difficult for Ukrainian nationalists to find historical examples of Ukrainians and Russians spilling each other’s blood.

Putin lays the blame for Ukraine’s anti-Russianism at the feet of “Western authors”:

The Western authors of the anti-Russia project set up the Ukrainian political system in such a way that presidents, members of parliament and ministers would change but the attitude of separation from and enmity with Russia would remain. Reaching peace was the main election slogan of the incumbent president. He came to power with this. The promises turned out to be lies. Nothing has changed. And in some ways the situation in Ukraine and around Donbas has even degenerated.

But is that really so? Critics may say that Putin is at least as responsible for the dominance of anti-Russians in Kiev as any Westerner. Putin certainly played his part in events that removed 6 million Russian speakers in Donbass and Crimea from Ukrainian voter rolls. Moreover, the Russian-aided rebuff of Kiev’s attempted takeover of rebel Donbass by military means provided the nationalists with the much-needed semblance of a Russian-Ukrainian war. One of the critiques against Putin is precisely that in 2014 he helped deal near maximum damage to Ukrainian-Russian friendship at the popular level while getting Russia nothing but the 2-million Crimea in return. There were those who proposed that since Ukraine would henceforth be lost to anti-Russianism anyway he may as well have grabbed the entire Russian-speaking (and Russia-friendly) half.

In reality, it is neither Westerners nor Putin who are primarily responsible for the hold of “anti-Russians” over Kiev. As Putin says, twice now (with Poroshenko and especially with Zelensky) the voters have rallied behind a negotiated-settlement candidate only for the latter to turn into a hawk once in power. The cause is ultimately found in the nature of fractured systems such as democracy. Ukraine has multiple centers of power and additionally the notionally top leader is actually a weak one because his position is one of the least secure. Pursuing peace which takes a lot of investment outright for a very distant payoff isn’t the optimal strategy for a leader who is besieged from all sides and just trying to survive into the next month. A cheap pro-war policy that kicks the can down the road and pays minor but instant dividends is much better. Especially for the kind of room-reading empty suits that are likely to rise to the top in a modern electoral system.

Of course, one reason Putin didn’t order the military to occupy entire Russia-friendly Ukraine in 2014 are Moscow’s precious foreign exchange reserves. Moscow wants a Ukraine that is economically integrated with Russia and even plugged into its defense industry, but it definitely doesn’t want to be on the hook for the material condition of “our historical territories and people close to us”. We have seen as much in Donbass. While there has been significant investment into incorporated Crimea (to say nothing of Chechnya), the same hasn’t been the case for Donbass which today is economically worse off than it was in 2014 and exists in such an economic ghetto that the export of 1500 kilograms of sausage to Russia “bypassing Ukraine” is treated as newsworthy. (Why did it take eight years??) This comes on top of Russia having presided over the gradual killing off of all of its interesting (but independent-minded) leaders and their replacement by “economically-motivated” yes-men. If Moscow has a similarly progressive vision for Left-Bank Ukraine then I imagine a considerable portion of its residents would ask her to not bother liberating them. The money men around Putin; the Kudrins, the Chubaises, and the Grefs can not be counted on to release the sort of monies that reinvigorating Eastern Ukraine would take. (What they can be counted on is to mRNA-treat its people and cattle tag them.)

The final problem is that while rearranging borders in a coloring book is a blast, this isn’t a video game. The Russian military is an artillery-firepower army. It is incredibly lethal. The takeover of Southern and Easern Ukraine doesn’t happen without tens of thousands of deaths. Mostly Ukrainian. But didn’t Putin just explain that Ukrainians are Russians too? Well, I prefer my Malorussians deluded (and even anti-Russian) over dead.

I think a Russian offensive into Ukraine is a possibility (say 20%). I don’t think we should be eager for it.

Putin has already demonstrated to Ukraine that push comes to shove all of its Western “well-wishers” will abandon Kiev to its fight. Let’s hope he finds that sufficient.

Take it from someone who knows a little about fratricidal war: You don’t want one.

Russian troops are already arriving in Belarus, says secretary of its Security Council Alexander Volfovich. Trains with Russian military vehicles have been spotted all over the country. Here is one in Kolodishchi, just outside Minsk. Video by @MotolkoHelp from earlier today. pic.twitter.com/lFdPuwK2Rp

— Tadeusz Giczan (@TadeuszGiczan) January 17, 2022

Russian Talk

Based on content from HERE.

Russia seems now ready to take on US sanctions head on, will Russia force many US congress reps to quit?

Up to now Russia has always sort of deflected US sanctions, by using evading maneuvers to protect their companies. But now Russia seems ready to hit back and make it painful.

Banning the companies that support American Congressmen

Yesterday the idea was floated to ban any US company which financed a US congress rep that votes for sanctions against Russia, for 5 years from the Russian market.

Oh. This could be bad.

Most US companies donate to some, at least the ones in the state, of both parties.

Apple? Coca Cola? Boeing? McDonalds? VISA? Walmart? General Motors? Ford? Procter&Gamble?

Apple alone does 3 billion sales in Russia, 5 years would be be 15 billion sales lost.

No problem for Russia. They just get everything from China. At a fraction of the cost.

A US rep is not worth 15 billion, so most likely, if such counter sanctions are officially announced, a US rep would quit to save the company from losing business.

That could mean a good chunk of congress reps would quit, and new elections would start and make the US even a worse political mess.

This could also be applied to media and think tanks. This would also throw a spanner in the US political system of “pay and play”.

The complete suspension of copyright/IP protection of US companies

Over the years other ideas were floated. One of the harshest is the complete suspension of copyright/IP protection of US companies: software, music, movies, pharma, the name itself…

That would mean Russia could effectively open source most software, as governments usually get source code of major softwares from the vendors, like Microsoft, Oracle, Apple, Android to check for security holes.

Big Pharma would also be hit, Russki Viagra anyone? Cialis? Xantax?

And copycats would bloom into a worldwide trade. All at a fraction of the cost. Instead of $10 for a single Viagra pill, it will now be 50 pills for a $1. And Big Pharma won’t be able to do a single thing about it.

Think what would happen if China joins Russia in doing this?

YIKES!

A third could be law warfare.

A Russian court could set a price of war reparations on US “adventures” like Vietnam, Iraq, Korea, use of nukes on Japan and the many others, at beyond 100 trillion, so that even the staunchest US allies would be tempted to get a piece of the action of this credit collection.

Overflights of US airlines and Boeing jets could also be banned, so that airlines would have to end leases of Boeing long distance jets.

Others are to confiscate/freeze equity in Russian companies owned by investors from sanctioning countries.

In general, Russia has endured lots of sanctions over many years, but plans are in place to go head on.

A lot of time was devoted to make them as painful as possible. There is speculation in the media, but the actual plans are kept under lock, no big announcements or media leaks.

But they ARE being seriously considered.

Sanctions seem a clever tool for the big guys, but if somebody hits back and you have a low pain threshold, it starts hurting. The fact is that they are outside the rules, so you might also get hit back under the belt. And chess masters plan many moves ahead, exactly where a hit under the belt gets the best result.

Some quotes

Russian forces arriving in Belarus should have implications for folks' perception of the size/scope of the operation. First time ever Eastern Mil District forces in Belarus. If you think its not a bluff, great. If you think its not going to be large-scale…I suggest a rethink.

— Michael Kofman (@KofmanMichael) January 17, 2022

And…

Several military districts doing a rolling call up of reservists to test the BARS reserve system. Some reporting a base official figure that they have 9k reservists signed up. Southern MD has a month long staggered call up. Sure looks like they're checking follow-on forces. https://t.co/Ccp4aYwZKQ
— Michael Kofman (@KofmanMichael) January 17, 2022

Let’s consider how the “pandemic” is changing the world

From an interview with Noam Chomsky, found HERE.

Q. What about the pandemic? You mentioned the Great Depression, and the effect that had on the US and Europe, but can the pandemic play a similar role in the sense of “We can do this together?”

A. It should. And there are some signs of it. So when you get to the local level, you do find people cooperating with one another, helping each other. In many poor places around much of the world, local groups have just gotten together to help people in need, sometimes in remarkable ways. The favelas in Brazil are among the most miserable slums in the world. I’ve seen them. They’re run by biker gangs, drug cartels. The police are also extremely violent. Well, what’s happened during the pandemic is that the gangs, the criminal gangs that have been terrorizing the favelas have been organizing people to deal with the crisis. In the favelas, plenty of people don’t even have water. They’re working to help people at least have access to water, to have access to vaccines, to help each other in need. If there’s somebody, an old man stuck in an apartment who can’t get food, they bring him food, things like that are happening on the ground. Now, go to the leadership level. What are they doing? They’re monopolizing vaccines for themselves. They are demanding that the huge pharmaceutical corporations, which are super rich, should maintain control of the exorbitant patent rights that were given to them by the neoliberal regime, a regime which is radically opposed to free trade.

And his thoughts about the changing workplace…

Q. What about work?

A. What’s a job? A job, for most people, is spending most of your waking hours following orders from a master, who is a totalitarian master. They can give orders of a kind that Stalin couldn’t have dreamt of. Stalin couldn’t have told people that you’re allowed to take a five-minute bathroom break or that you’re not allowed to talk to that person next to you. And maybe your master is kind enough to allow you the leeway, but it’s the master’s decision. That’s called getting a job. Today, most people think that’s the norm. They react like my grandmother did, and would, if you’d asked her if she was oppressed. That wasn’t always true. To go back to the early Industrial Revolution of working people, bitterly opposed this form of autocracy, which was taking away their dignity, their rights and keeps reviving today. Plenty of people are saying the same thing. In fact, many of the people who are just refusing to go back to work, the so-called Great Resignation, are saying it in their own way.

UKRAINE CRISIS: US ‘Toolboxes’ Are Empty

January 22, 2022

The toolbox is empty. Russia knows this. Biden knows this. Blinken knows this. CNN knows this. The only ones who aren’t aware of this are the American people, says Scott Ritter.

U.S. Secretary of State Antony Blinken met with his Russian counterpart, Sergei Lavrov, in a hastily scheduled, 90-minute summit in Geneva yesterday, after which both sides lauded the meeting as worthwhile because it kept the door open for a diplomatic resolution to the ongoing crisis in Ukraine. What “keeping the door open” entails, however, represents two completely different realities.

For Blinken, the important thing appears to be process, continuing a dialogue which, by its very essence, creates the impression of progress, with progress being measured in increments of time, as opposed to results.

A results-oriented outcome was not in the books for Blinken and his entourage; the U.S. was supposed to submit a written response to Russia’s demands for security guarantees as spelled out in a pair of draft treaties presented to the U.S. and NATO in December. Instead, Blinken told Lavrov the written submission would be provided next week.

In the meantime, Blinken primed the pump of expected outcomes by highlighting the possibility of future negotiations that addressed Russian concerns (on a reciprocal basis) regarding intermediate-range missiles and NATO military exercises.

But under no circumstances, Blinken said, would the U.S. be responding to Russian demands against NATO expanding to Ukraine and Georgia, and for the redeployment of NATO forces inside the territory of NATO as it existed in 1997.

Blinken also spent a considerable amount of time harping on the danger of a imminent military invasion of Ukraine by Russian forces said to be massing along the Ukraine-Russian border. He pointed out that any military incursion by Russia, not matter what size, that violated the territorial integrity of Ukraine, would be viewed as a continuation of the Russian “aggression” of 2014 and, as such, trigger “massive consequences” which would be damaging to Russia.

Blinken’s restatement of a position he has pontificated on incessantly for more than a month now was not done for the benefit of Lavrov and the Russian government, but rather for an American and European audience which had been left scratching their collective heads over comments made the day before by President Joe Biden which suggested that the U.S. had a range of options it would consider depending on the size of a Russian incursion.

“My guess is he [Russian President Vladimir Putin] will move in, he has to do something,” Biden said during a press briefing on Wednesday. While presenting a Russian invasion as inevitable, Biden went on to note that Putin “will be held accountable” and has “never have seen sanctions like the ones I promised will be imposed” if Russia were, in fact, to move against Ukraine. Biden spoke of deploying additional U.S. military forces to eastern Europe, as well as unspecified economic sanctions.

Biden then, however, hedged his remarks, noting that the scope and scale of any U.S. response would depend on what Russia did. “It’s one thing,” Biden said, “if it’s a minor incursion and we end up having to fight about what to do and not do.”

Almost immediately the Washington establishment went into overdrive to correct what everyone said was a “misstatement” by Biden, with Biden himself making a new statement the next day, declaring that he had been “absolutely clear with President Putin. He has no misunderstanding, any, any assembled Russian units move across the Ukrainian border, that is an invasion,” and that there should be “no doubt at all that if Putin makes this choice, Russia will pay a heavy price.”

And just in case the President was not clear enough, Blinken reiterated that point following his Friday meeting with Lavrov.

Immutable

The U.S. narrative about Russia and Ukraine was immutable; Russia was hell bent on invading, and there would be massive consequences if Russia acted out on its intent. This was no idle threat, Blinken said, but rather represented the unified position of the United States and its allies and partners.

Or was it? In a telling admission, CNN’s White House correspondent, John Harwood, stated that the “minor incursions” statement by Biden was harmless, because (Harwood said) Putin already knew through sources that this was, in fact, the U.S. position. As for Europe and Ukraine, their collective confusion and outrage was merely an act, a posture they had to take for public consumption, since the optics of Biden’s statement “sounds bad.”

In short, the lack of an agreed-upon strategy on how to deal with a Russian incursion/invasion of Ukraine was an open secret for everyone except the U.S. and European publics, who being fed a line of horse manure to assuage domestic political concerns over being seen as surrendering to Russian demands.

Biden and his administration are old hands at lying to the American public when it comes to matters of national security. One only need look to Biden’s July 23, 2021, phone call with Afghan President Ashraf Ghani for a clear precedent into this inability to speak openly and honestly about reality on the ground. “I need not tell you,” Biden told Ghani, “the perception around the world and in parts of Afghanistan, I believe, is that things are not going well in terms of the fight against the Taliban. And there is a need,” Biden added, “whether it is true or not, there is a need to project a different picture.”

This, in a nutshell, is the essence of the posture taken by the Biden administration on Ukraine. Blinken has indicated that the U.S. has a toolbox filled with options that will deliver “massive consequences” to Russia should Russia invade Ukraine. These “tools” include military options, such as the reinforcement of NATO’s eastern flank with additional U.S. troops, and economic options, such as shutting down the NordStream 2 pipeline and cutting Russia off from the SWIFT banking system. All these options, Blinken notes, have the undivided support of U.S. European allies and partners.

The toolbox is everywhere, it seems—Biden has referred to it, as has White House Press Secretary Jen Psaki. Blinken has alluded to it on numerous occasions.

There’s only one problem—the toolbox, it turns out, is empty.

While the Pentagon is reportedly working on a series of military options to reinforce the existing U.S. military presence in eastern Europe, the actual implementation of these options would neither be timely nor even possible. One option is to move forces already in Europe; the U.S. Army maintains one heavy armored brigade in Europe on a rotational basis and has a light armored vehicle brigade and an artillery brigade stationed in Germany. Along with some helicopter and logistics support, that’s it.

Flooding these units into Poland would be for display purposes only—they represent an unsustainable combat force that would be destroyed within hours, if not days, in any large-scale ground combat against a Russian threat.

The U.S. can deploy a second heavy armored brigade to Poland which would fall in on prepositioned equipment already warehoused on Polish soil. This brigade would suffer a similar fate if matched up against the Russian army. The U.S. can also deploy an airborne brigade. They, too, would die.

There are no other options available to deploy additional U.S. heavy forces to Europe on a scale and in a timeframe that would be meaningful. The problem isn’t just the deployment of forces from their bases in the U.S. (something that would takes months to prepare for), but the sustainability of these forces once they arrived on the ground in Europe. Food, ammunition, water, fuel—the logistics of war is complicated, and not resolved overnight.

In short, there is no viable military option, and Biden knows this.

Empty Sanctions Too

The U.S. has no sanctions plan that can survive initial contact with the enemy, which in this case is the collective weakness of the post-pandemic economies of both Europe and the U.S.; the over-reliance of Europe on Russian-sourced energy, and the vulnerability of democratically elected leaders to the whim of a consumer-based constituency. Russia can survive the impact of any sanctions regime the U.S. is able to scrape together—even those targeting the Russian banking system—far longer than Europe can survive without access to Russian energy.

This is a reality that Europe lives with, and while U.S. policy makers might think hard-hitting sanctions look good on paper, the reality is that whatever passes for U.S.-European unity today would collapse in rapid order when the Russian pipelines were shut down. The pain would not just be limited to Europe, either—the U.S. economy would suffer as well, with sky-high fuel prices and a stock market collapse that would put the U.S. into an economic recession, if not outright depression.

The political cost that would be incurred by Biden and, by extension, the Democrats, would be fatal to any hope that might remain for holding onto either house of Congress in 2022, or the White House in 2024. It would be one thing if Biden and his national security team were honest and forthright about the real consequences of declaring the equivalent of economic war on Russia. It is another thing altogether to speak only of the pain sanctions would cause Russia, with little thought, if any, to the real consequences that will be paid on the home front.

Americans should never forget that Russia has been laboring under severe U.S. sanctions since 2014, with zero effect. Russia knows what could be coming and has prepared. The American people wallow in their ignorance, believing at face value what they are told by the Biden administration, and echoed by a compliant mainstream media.

Propaganda About ‘Propaganda’

One of the great ironies of the current crisis is that, on the eve of the Blinken-Lavrov meeting in Geneva, the U.S. State Department published a report on Russian propaganda, decrying the role played by state-funded outlets such as RT and Sputnik in shaping public opinion in the United States and the West (in the interest of full disclosure, RT is one of the outlets that I write for.)

The fact that the State Department would publish such a report on the eve of a meeting which is all about propagating the big lie—that the U.S. has a plan for deterring “irresponsible Russian aggression”—while ignoring the hard truth: this is a crisis derived solely from the irresponsible policies of the U.S. and NATO over the past 30 years.

While a compliant mainstream American media unthinkingly repeated every warning and threat issued by Biden and Blinken to Russia over the course of the past few days, the Russian position has been largely ignored. Here’s a reminder of where Russia stands on its demands for security guarantees: “We are talking about the withdrawal of foreign forces, equipment, and weapons, as well as taking other steps to return to the set-up we had in 1997 in non-NATO countries,” the Russian Foreign Ministry declared in a bulletin published after the Lavrov-Blinken meeting. “This includes Bulgaria and Romania.”

Blinken has already said the U.S. will reject this.

The toolbox is empty. Russia knows this. Biden knows this. Blinken knows this. CNN knows this. The only ones who aren’t aware of this are the American people.

The consequences of a U.S. rejection of Russia’s demands will more than likely be war.

If you think the American people are ready to bear the burden of a war with Russia, think again.

Scott Ritter is a former U.S. Marine Corps intelligence officer who served in the former Soviet Union implementing arms control treaties, in the Persian Gulf during Operation Desert Storm, and in Iraq overseeing the disarmament of WMD.

China Has Edged Ahead of Russia in Air vs Air Capabilities (With Russian Help)

The Chinese are amazing at tech

Those Pesky Sino-Russians

Justin Bronk 21 Jan 22

Editor’s note: The caveat is that Russia does not intend to fight pure air vs air battles. Russian doctrine envisages fighters and ground anti-air working together as a part of a whole. Nonetheless, purely looking at fighters China is now in the lead. Russia is still a little ahead in engines, but China has more advanced radars and better munitions. [— Russia still hasn’t managed to field an AESA radar.]

The old formulation that in the Sino-Russian alliance the Chinese are the economic superpower and the Russians the military superpower is one that will increasingly have to be amended. The Chinese are already the equals in military tech and may eventually pull ahead.

The text below is an abstract. For the entire 60-page report click here: Link.

The Soviet Union, and latterly Russia, have been the source of both aerial and ground-based pacing threats to Western airpower since the end of the Second World War. However, from a position of dependency on Russian aircraft and weapons, China has developed an advanced indigenous combat aircraft, sensor and weapons industry that is outstripping Russia’s. As a result, for the first time since 1945, the likely source of the most significant aerial threats to Western air capabilities is shifting.

Modern air combat is primarily decided by the balance of advantage in situational awareness. Given broadly comparable numbers, the force which can provide its aircrew with superior awareness of enemy position, track and identity will have a major advantage in any clash. In scenarios where situational awareness is relatively equal, missile reach and seeker performance, crew experience, aircraft performance, electronic warfare (EW) and countermeasures systems all contribute to the likely outcome.

Russia and China currently field superficially similar combat aircraft fleets. Both rely heavily on the Su-27/30 ‘Flanker’ family of combat aircraft and their various derivatives. They have also both pursued a fighter with low-observable (LO) – also known as stealthy – features, alongside increased multirole capability for their main fighter fleets. However, a clear Chinese lead is now emerging over Russia in most technical aspects of combat aircraft development.

The Flanker family of combat aircraft share: a large radar, optical and heat signature; potent kinematic performance; a relatively long range on internal fuel; and the ability to carry heavy ordinance loads of air-to-air or air-to-ground weapons. This makes them comparatively easy to detect and, in the case of Russian Flanker types, the lack of a modern active electronically scanned array (AESA) radar restricts them to relatively ‘brute force’ tactics using powerful but easy-to-detect radars and missiles which are outranged by their Western counterparts.

China has developed J-11 and J-16 series Flanker derivatives featuring AESA radars, new datalinks, improved EW systems and increased use of composites, which give them a superior level of overall combat capability to the latest Russian Flanker, the Su-35S.

This advantage is increased by Chinese advances in both within-visual-range (WVR) and beyond-visual-range (BVR) air-to-air missiles. Unlike the latest Russian R-73M, the PL-10 features an imaging infrared seeker, improving resistance to countermeasures. More significantly, the PL-15 features a miniature AESA seeker head and outranges the US-made AIM-120C/D AMRAAM series. China is also testing a very-long-range air-to-air missile, known as PL-X or PL-17, which has a 400-km class range, multimode seeker and appears to have been designed to attack US big-wing ISTAR and tanker aircraft.

China has developed and introduced into service the first credible non-US-made LO, or fifth-generation, fighter in the form of the J-20A ‘Mighty Dragon’. Subsequent developments are likely to increase its LO characteristics and sensor capabilities, as well as engine performance, with construction of the first production prototypes of the J-20B having begun in 2020.

Overall, the Chinese People’s Liberation Army Air Force (PLAAF) and People’s Liberation Army Navy are rapidly improving their combat air capabilities, including a focus on the sensors, platforms, network connectivity and weapons needed to compete with the US in cutting-edge, predominantly passive-sensor air combat tactics.

The Russian Su-57 Felon is assessed as not yet having matured into a credible frontline weapons system, and as lacking the basic design features required for true LO signature. However, it does offer the potential to correct many of the Flanker family weaknesses with greatly reduced signature and an AESA radar, while improving the already superb agility and performance of the Flanker series. [The Su-57 doesn’t need to be as stealthy from the side and rear because unlike the Chinese very-long-range J-20 it’s not supposed to venture outside the air defense bubble. That said it is true that so far the Chinese have demonstrated more “stealth” tech than the Russians — and in much greater numbers.]

The Russian Air Force (VKS) does not currently field targeting pods for its ground-attack and multirole fleets. This limits the ground-attack aircraft to internal equivalents with inferior field of view and tactical flexibility, and the multirole fighters to reliance on either pre-briefed GPS/GLONASS target coordinates, radar-guided weapons or target acquisition using fixed seekers on the weapons themselves. This limits VKS fixed-wing capabilities against dynamic battlefield targets compared to Western or Chinese equivalents.

China is actively pursuing unmanned combat aerial vehicle (UCAV) designs with multiple programmes at various stages of development. Detailed assessment is hindered by tight control of information leaks by the Chinese Communist Party. Of those known to be in development, the GJ-11 subsonic attack UCAV appears the most advanced.

Russia is also pursuing UCAV-style technologies and has produced the Su-70 ‘Okhotnik-B’ technology demonstrator. However, it is not yet clear what degree of practical operational capability the Russian aircraft industry will be able to develop through the Su-70, especially given the demands for significant levels of in-flight autonomy inherent in UCAVs designed for state-on-state warfare in heavy EW conditions.

China’s advanced and efficient Flanker derivatives, as well as lightweight multirole fighters in the shape of the J-10B/C series and potentially a developmental FC-31 LO fighter programme, are likely to provide the leading source of non-Western combat aircraft from the mid-2020s onwards. Likewise, their air-launched munitions will increasingly outcompete Russian equivalents on the export market. As such, the development of Chinese capabilities should be closely monitored even by air forces which do not include the PLAAF in their direct threat assessments.

The possibility of technology transfer from China to Russia in the combat air domain could potentially increase the threat level posed to NATO by Russian airpower in the longer term, should such a dynamic emerge.

Source: The Royal United Services Institute

Petty

The US summarised:

ISS crews train in the US and Russia to understand the US and Russian parts of the station, if only for emergency evacuation procedures. The US has just cancelled the visa of a Russian cosmonaut due to visit the US for his USS-ISS training sessions.

How totally pathetic and spiteful.

This Is One of the Most Important Essays You Will Ever Read

“I passionately wanted to take a machine gun and cross the damned nine-story building in a long burst”

Alexander Lebed 20 Jan 22 1282 4

Editor’s note: Alexander Lebed was a Soviet soldier and general, a challenger of Yeltsin, the protector of Russians and Ukrainians on left-bank Dniestr, and of the Russian-Ukrainian state, the rebel Pridnestrovie (Transnistria) they had founded.

He was also the person who cut the Gordian Knot and delivered Russia peace from Yeltsin’s Chechen War after the latter handed him the negotiations as a poisoned chalice that he resolutely accepted knowing fully what it was.

He was the son of a Gulag survivor and participated in internal Soviet peacekeeping (in the late 1980s) in Azerbaijan, on the basis of which he wrote this important essay presented below.

“On the evening of the 7th, the “Time” program announced a huge earthquake in Armenia… The exact number of victims was unknown, but preliminarily, they were estimated to be huge – tens of thousands of people.

The announcer switched to another topic, but no one would listen to him. Moreover, someone turned the TV off. An oppressive silence hung in the lobby. Suddenly, a strangle sound burst into this silence – or rather, a gamut of sounds merged into a single, general, triumphant joyful howl that would become more and more intense.

In seconds, everything became clear. On the opposite side of the street, in front of the building of the district executive committee, there was a large residential nine-story building. Every window without exception was illuminated, and on every balcony, people were yelling, hooting, and laughing wildly. Empty bottles, lighted paper, and some other objects were being thrown down.

This nine-story building was not alone in displaying its cannibalistic enthusiasm. A similar pattern was observed in all nearby houses.

The area was shining and howling ecstatically. People who considered themselves civilized; to one degree or another brought up and educated; many, presumably, believers professing the commandments of the Koran – all these people in a unanimous impulse were indecently, barbarously celebrating the colossal alien human grief.

I passionately wanted to take a machine gun and cross the damned nine-story building in a long burst and somehow make the people who have fallen to the level of monkeys return to their human form again.

How many kind, cheerful, intelligent, welcoming people I have met among Azerbaijanis! What passionate, convincing speeches many of them gave to me! Where did they go, all reasonable and kind, how was it possible that they all disappeared in this foam and succumbed to the rush whose degree of infamy is difficult to determine?”

Editor’s note: Should a day come when we find ourselves in danger of falling down to the level of beast or ape we can only pray there might be an Alexander Lebed with a machinegun nearby to get us to snap out of it.

From Lebed’s memoirs, translated by Vigen Avetisyan at Art-A-Tsolum.

The 1988 Armenian earthquake killed 25,000-50,000 people.

Is there a deal being prepared behind the scenes?

16774 Views January 21, 2022

Found HERE

I have to admit that when I heard that the US has no intention of giving the Russians anything in writing I began wondering whether it even made sense for Lavrov to fly to Geneva. Yet, Lavrov thought otherwise and flew to the Swiss city. The outcome? Meh…

The US wants another week to prepare a written reply. Okay, that is some kind of result and I suppose that, considering what is at stake, waiting yet another week is okay. Frankly, the Russians are acutely aware of two things:

US diplomats and experts are, at best, clueless amateurs
The War Party is in full-blow hysterics mode

So they decided to give “Biden” another week. Like a teacher who agrees to give a particularly dumb student a few extra days to turn in his assignment.

What else?

Well, there is this: remember the rather weird words by Biden about a “minor incursion“? (since then, both Biden himself and Blinken has declared that Biden was misunderstood).

Today former ambassador McFaul, a true russophobic nutcase and certified imbecile, said that if the Russian soldiers go as far as Kiev this would trigger a full-scale response from the US and its allies.

Wait! What?

Since when do the Russian have to get their soldiers as far as Kiev to get sanctioned???

Before continuing, a few absolutely CRUCIAL reminders:

Russia neither wants nor has any reason at all to invade country 404, with all its intellectuals already long gone (most of them in Russia, low qualified refugees when to clean EU toilets), its deindustrialized wastelands, its many neo-Nazis and zero natural resources (they already sold it all). In fact, most Russians are categorically opposed to any such intervention.
The only thing which could force Russia to use her ground forces would be a successful (and rather unlikely) Ukrainian invasion of the LDNR. Russia currently does have the forces needed for such a counter-attack in her western regions. She does not have the size of force needed to occupy the Ukraine.
Russia has the means to defang the Ukie military using only standoff weapons, Russian military experts believe that such an operation would take a week or even less.

In other words, the notion of a Russian ground operation to take Kiev is total, hallucinatory, nonsense. Ditto for the idiotic idea that Russia must invade in February before the frozen ground turns into dirt (Russian ground forces have no problems operating or fighting with dirt, snowmelts or any other natural phenomenon between -50C to +50C). That is exactly the kind of crap McFaul always spews (with this uniquely paranoid eyes and freaked-out facial expression). But the fact that McFaul is a drooling idiot does not mean that he does not have access to what is going on behind the scenes (Blinken is just as dumb, and he is in charge of the entire US diplomacy).

So what gave him this truly weird idea?

First Biden with his “minor incursion”.

Now McFaul with his “no Russian soldiers in Kiev”.

I can offer three possible explanations for that:

The Biden Admin is doing a “April Glaspie” operation on Russia: tell the Russians that the US will do little or nothing as long as Russia only liberates some areas (presumably in the eastern and/or southern Ukraine) only to then take that as a pretext and declare some kind of war (probably not military, but political and economic for sure).
The Biden Admin is really trying to get rid of the Ukie suitcase and wants to break up this monstrosity into smaller, much more manageable, successor states. If so, I like the idea.
The Biden Admin is ready to let the LDNR break-away and move under the protection of Russia. Officially, of course, the USA will never agree to that, but they can present that as a problem they did not create and they could not solve alone either (or something else along similar PR lines).

Now, like I always repeat, there is a HUGE difference between “possible” and “likely”. The explanations above are only *possible* explanations for the weird language coming out of Biden and McFaul.

I also hasten to add that I don’t think that Russia will accept any such terms because they only refer to the Ukraine and not to a new international world order with a new international security framework, which is really what the Russians are after. And we are talking about verifiable, binding, security guarantees – not written, or even less so, oral, assurances.

However, if these proposals are made as one part of a much broader package of ideas, then they would be worth at least considering.

I have to tell you that my feeling is that the US has already at least partially lost control of the Ukraine and possibly even the EU.

Remember how I always write that when the US President is weak (which all of them since Bush Sr. have been) then the various branches of government and administrations begin doing their own thing, having a semi-official foreign policy of their own: one by the CIA, another one by the Pentagon, another one by Foggy Bottom, etc.?

Well, the same applies to US colonies: when the colonial master is weak and in deep crisis, the colonies begin feeling that they can act more independently. For example, the 3B+PU gang are now clearly setting the agenda in the EU, and the old Europeans à la Germany of France have become quasi irrelevant. Likewise, I am not confident at all that the real, hardcore, Ukronazis give a damn about what the US has to say, especially since the said Ukronazis seem to have the solid backing of the EU and parts of the Ukie government: just look at how Ze was unable to deal with Poroshenko – that will tell you a lot about the real correlation of forces in Banderastan.

This is the “tail wags the dog” thing on an international level.

All that is to say that I don’t find it likely that some big deal is being worked on behind the scenes.

But I do find it possible.

We shall find out soon, in one week or less according to the US side.

In the meantime the Ukies are massing a very large force right across the line of contact. I think of these Ukie forces like I think of folks driving motorcycles without a helmet: organ donors. Should the Ukies use that force to actually attack, the Russians will destroy that force in 24 hours or less. The problem is that Ukronazis are 1) rather stupid 2) totally fanaticized and 3) utterly unaware of the realities of modern warfare.

By the way, from a purely US point of view having the Ukronazis wiped out by Russian strikes is not a bad outcome as it would get rid of loads of truly crazy and unsavory characters.

I think of it as a “de-nazification by Russia” (along the lines of the expression “suicide by cop”).

One more thing: remember the rumors about the Russian evacuating their diplomatic personnel from Kiev? Turns out that it ain’t Russia, but the US and EU representations which are being evacuated (at least partially).

In the meantime, Stoltenberg wants Sweden and Finland to join NATO while many EU countries are now sending (small) forces into various locations in Eastern Europe. The worst of them all, the Baltic statelets, are now shipping Stinger MANPADs to the Ukies. Knowing how many Takfiris and neo-Nazis nutcases there are in Banderastan, this is absolutely, totally and terminally irresponsible! Yet those demented idiots are doing it. Typical.

I wish everybody a peaceful and great week-end!

Andrei

A comment

From Dennis Dennis

I must admit sadly that it s hard to find a wise and intellectual thinking American, therefore first I want to congratulate you for your wise and thoughtful ideas.

I am from Germany and in all discussions with americans I feel a taste of superiority and superficial thinking.

I am astonished about their neglect that russia is nuclear armed superpower which can in war end life on earth as we know.

If you talk all the time your opponent as unimportant and not to take serious than you got the public opinion easily that you do not be afraid about russia but we should all take russia serious when there is conflict with russia.

So first we must take russia demands for it s security very serious to have our security !

War is no option with russia and that must be clear to any fool !

Ukraine was not and will not be our main interest.

hat s the spehre of interest of russia and let it be. We can no have all regions in the world in our sphere of interest. We must differ between important and not so important.

And honestly europe did never want ukraine be part of europe and nato because we want to avoid conflict with russia at the very beginning and it s wise to do so.

The US must stop thinking it can control every country and region.

Simply said: avoid russia and try not to be close to russia for our own sake

Whats Next?

11604 Views January 23, 2022

From HERE

Tarik in the Vineyard for the Saker Blog

I’m not sure even a NATO mosquito could cross the Russian border unmolested. And when a bear is lethally threatened, it doesn’t posture; it charges in a mighty roar. So why the Russian ultimatum? There are many plausible motives, many of which are not mutually exclusive. I’d like to focus on an aspect that hasn’t been discussed yet.

The last ten to twenty years could be characterized as a rivalry between China’s desire to re-balance the world’s economy, and the US’s effort to maintain the Dollar’s supremacy. China rose on the back of Western consumerism. There is only that much the West economy can absorb of China’s growing production, and that limit has clearly been exceeded. If China is to pursue its economic development, it needs additional “advanced” export markets to sustain its growing middle class. This is the Chinese necessity underlying the BRI, it cannot grow without the world growing with it.

Until recently it was content with a simple strategy: Enter several disparate countries at a time and start economic projects. Soon enough the US intervened to discipline the offenders; but they cannot strike all at once, choices must be made. Meanwhile, China approaches another bunch with still more economic projects. The US gets slowly overwhelmed, while the projects advance two steps forward, one step backward. On paper, it looks like an expensive proposition, but that is the beauty of it, it’s all paid for with US paper, while gold is accumulated. This entire period is comparable to the early and middle stages of a Go game

There is a point however when all these mini economic hubs must consolidate into a unified stream of connections to realize their full potential. That means no more US military interference and economic/financial disruptions. It seems we are now entering the late stage when “eyes” must be locked and linked.

There is little question the latest Russian move was long prepared and discussed with China. We may assume a common goal, and that none of the recent events are coincidences.

China and Russia favor and promote inter-currency settlement of trades. The Digital Yuan (E-CNY, electronic China Yuan) is designed for this purpose and has just completed successfully its live trials. It is reasonable to expect its official announcement in the near future. There are rumors this will be done during Putin’s visit to the Olympics. Regardless of the exact launch date, preparation must be made against the predictably harshest US resistance to its international deployment. There’s little doubt in my mind that many, if not most of East Asia will readily incorporate the new crypto iteration of the Yuan. However the Kazakhstan events, which were clearly foreseen with great precision, essentially opened up the entire Central Asian economies to its eventual use. With the recent 400bn commitment to Iran and the ongoing Pakistani projects, one may merrily add them to the bunch. India is free to join whenever they deem it in their best interest. This brings us right to the doorsteps of the Middle East.

Let’s now briefly revisit the US’ choices taken during the middle stage game. Since East Asia was growing to displace the US and EU as China’s main trading partner, Washington initiated their “pivot East” strategy to disrupt their momentum. Because of the sorry state of both their economy and military, they had to “delegate” the task of containing Russia on its western border to the EU. The Ukraine, in this context, can be seen as the “pretext” for the EU to activate NATO in Eastern Europe. However, as “pivot East” was floundering, they further needed to draw on their middle east assets (it’s becoming increasingly difficult not to laugh at what I must write). To this effect, they devised the Abraham Accords to similarly delegate the task of containing the “Shiite Axis” to Israel and the Golf States. The first “casualty” of these infamous Accords was probably Pakistan’s definite defection to the BRI, which further precipitated the Afghani debacle. To correct that mistake they then tried another formation with India, Japan, and a few others, followed by AUKUS, which both turned into flops, guided by the same imperative to relieve the strain on their military in an attempt to remain relevant on all fronts.

To control the Middle East, the US needs control of Europe, if only to secure their supply line. And to influence Central Asia they must control the Middle East. Until now Washington was essentially calling the shots, while Russia and China adapted their plans to whatever was thrown their way. By submitting their security demands, Russia is signaling unequivocally it is now taking the initiative. While the reinforcement of the Ukrainian Army was first designed to pressure some Russian reaction so as to increase the European nations’ commitment to toe the anti Russia line, the resulting Russian built-up of forces and large scale exercises have effectively reversed the pressure. The bulk of NATO forces are now bogged down on the eastern European front in a self induced paranoia, severely restricting their possible redeployment elsewhere.

With the Russian ultimatum the US is now basically faced with the following choices. Sign the documents, which by extension will mean the Minsk agreement and opening of NS2, but would free NATO reinforcement to the Middle East, no matter how futile this would ultimately prove. Because if this happens Europe will quickly “organically” link to the Asian network and recover most of its sovereignty from the US. At that moment, the Middle East is lost.

By not signing, the choice becomes loosing the middle East or release the pressure in East Asia, in both cases China wins.

If they don’t reinforce the Middle East, Pakistan is soon to be followed by the entire region. Though there could be some fireworks in the process, once the dust settles the BRI will be staring straight at Africa, throwing its full weight at European and American interests on that continent. If that happens, Europe falls.

Finally if they do “save” the Middle East at the detriment of East Asia, the Asian power house will become such that no one will escape its gravitational pull for long.

It is not very difficult to see, in this context, that whichever region the US decides to forsake, it’s only a matter of time before they lose the rest. Of course, this all assumes they don’t first crumble under the weight of their debts. Will they turn nuts and try blow it all up? I can only attest that the one thing greater than their evil idiocy, is their cowardice.

“Russia plans to engage its nuclear weapons not against those countries where it was launched against Russia, but against the mastermind cities where the decisions were made. To be exact, it is Washington, New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, and other American cities. Please fully understand, in case American nuclear weapons are launched from, eg. Taiwan, or Poland, the response will hit New York or Washington.”  

-Russian Duma deputy, Yevgeny Fyodorov.

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Russian commentaries on the collapsing United States (with some MM commentary as well) part 4

This is part four.

The situation is very weird. America has a President who is essentially a shit-stain in the seat of his expensive blue suit. So at least publicly, America is being governed by a shit-stain. America is just going to collapse. Not that this would be a bad thing.

America is devolving into an open rancid sewer along all the dimensions that constitute a Society…Americans are escaping into drug use and Fantasy Football-and into Fantasy in general….I can’t wait for that apex of American Civilization known as the Super Bowl half-time show in five weeks…

To para-phrase the tune Officer Kumpke from the 1961 Blockbuster Westside Story:We are doomed…We are doomed…We are doomed….followed by a young Russ Tamblyn doing a back flip into the septic tank-know as America….

-War for Blair Mountain

It is inconceivable…

For the USA to maintain global domance. Video 4MB

Completely Outplayed by Russia’s Diplomacy and Sabotaged by its Own Actions, The Outlaw US Empire is Now Having a Temper Tantrum

Since Russia issued its Security Demands which are listed in my previous articles, a number of excellent essays were published that filled in some important holes in the historical record that the narrative associated with the security demands omit.

The first is by Tarik Cyril Amar, “Russia is right: The West promised not to enlarge NATO & these promises were broken,” and details the two crucial promises made by the Americans that were subsequently broken, which constitute two of the Aces in Russia’s diplomatic poker hand.

The second excellent article is by Glenn Diesen, “How the EU found itself excluded from talks on deciding Europe’s future,” wherein he provides an answer to the following truism:

In advance of the talks last week, Washington rhetorically agreed that European security cannot be decided over the heads of the EU and Ukraine, before then simply going ahead with the bilateral US-Russia format. Simply put, Washington cannot do diplomacy with Eurocrats in the room.

But the most crucial cards Russia held were three additional Aces–The Three Cardinal OSCE Collective Security Treaties, The Charter for European Security, Istanbul 1999; The EU-Russia Common Spaces Agreement in 2005, signed in Moscow; and the latest, The “Astana Commemorative Declaration Towards a Security Community,” 2010.

Russia thus has a hand of 5 Aces, which are the two separate and later broken promises made regarding Germany’s reunification and Warsaw Pact’s decommissioning combined with no Eastern NATO movement, and the three separate OSCE Treaties on Collective European Security that all essentially say that no nation or group of nations can secure its/their security while making another nation insecure.

Either the Outlaw US Empire apologizes for its wrongdoings, or it breaks the three treaties atop the other two promises it’s already broken. Aside from overturning the card table, those are the only two possible outcomes. Russia has played its diplomatic hand superbly and has already won. The Anglo’s problem is which choice to make in reply.

What Blinken and NATO are doing is what sore losers and outlaws do when they’re caught-out–they draw their 6-gun. Clearly, the Outlaw US Empire can’t admit it was outplayed diplomatically, nor can it admit its dishonesty and issue an apology. It’s acting like a juvenile delinquent by throwing a temper tantrum.

China is in control of the automotive market

video 15MB

A Chinese-Russian Christmas tale ?

From HERE.

I spend my time, retreated from society, writing thinking and image-making. I’m presently writing a volume about Modernity. My perception is thus necessarily the long haul. Unfortunately these last few days the anti-system bloggers, who constitute my first source of information, were overtaken by too much fantasy for my taste.

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To console myself in this period of the Year I hereafter share a Geopolitical Christmas tale that is rooted in the last episodes of actuality.

As a preamble…

Power in today’s world is far more complex than a matter of military dominance. Moscow, Beijing and Washington have furthermore an acute understanding that the present Geopolitical contradictions can’t be solved by a world war which would simply cut the escape of their societies and plunge their citizens in a Berezina.

In that sense Geopolitics has now to be viewed as the systemic complexity of the interactions between the open societal fields (internal and external) of all nations on earth.
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The present Geopolitical moment is a very special moment indeed. .

1. Two trends have been solidifying over the centuries of Western Modernity: On one side the center of gravity of the economy-world has been shifting, away from the West, toward East-Asia and more particularly toward China :
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  - - This is the 8th such a shift of the center of gravity of the economy-world over the entire span of Modernity… What is different this time is that the center of gravity is leaving the territorial area of the Western civilization which explains the madness that has overtaken Western capitals
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  - On the other hand Western countries have been accumulating a multitude of side-effects over the last centuries of Modernity. The nature of these side-effects is double : – damages to the habitat of living species (nature) through different forms of pollution – damages to the societal organization of the human species through the pollution of ever more individualism that is concluding presently with the cancer that is societal atomization.

The present moment is more particularly characterized by “The Great Convergence of Late-Modernity” :
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- - The convergence, within Western societies, of Neo-liberalism and Postmodernism has unleashed a superficial globalization of Western Modernity to the 4 corners of the world while internally this convergence has forced Western societies into – societal inequality – pauperism – hyper-individualism – a complete loss of meaning – an individual feeling of isolation – and so many more unfortunate facts that are all aspects of societal atomization which means that such societies are no longer united entities and in that sense successful collective undertakings are no longer in their reach (no shared worldview left to glue the individuals in a unified societal whole).
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- - The convergence, within nature, of a multitude of side-effects, that resulted from “the reason that is at work within the transformation of money into capital”, were called “externalities” because capital refused to pay for eliminating their life disrupting character. These side-effects have thus been left to freely disrupt the equilibrium that has ensured the abundance of flora and fauna and more particularly the stability that ensured an ever increasing complexity of human societal life over the last 10,000 years.
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- - Lately the effects of these disruptions, within Western societies and within nature, have started to converge and are forcing humanity to face its predicament : “what now ?”. Most of us are oblivious to this predicament. But most scientists and some public decision-makers, a rarity in the West, are well aware of this situation… Those of us who listen carefully know for a fact that Beijing and Moscow are realist and are thus well aware of the extreme complexity of the present situation :
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- - - An acute awareness has emerged in the minds of the realists that to face the predicament of humanity it is indispensable, first and foremost and also urgently, to solve 1.1. which basically calls for a new world order in which the West is forced to play by the new rules of the game that the community of nation decides upon.
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- - The United Nations’ effort to combat climate change has taught a few important lessons :
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    *** the West will never contribute in an adequate manner for the bulk of externalities that it is directly responsible for
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    *** climate change is merely a symptom of the larger problem which is that the side-effects of Modernity are destroying the habitat of living species

A Geopolitical Christmas Tale…

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Moscow and Beijing are well aware of the disintegration of the cultural, social, and economic realities in the West that I sketched in 1.2. and in 2. and they have patiently been waiting for the most propitious moment to initiate a strategy to placate the West. It so happens that their forecasting services alerted them to an exceptional convergence of factors that would culminate with the Beijing Winter Olympics.
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Whatever the Western propaganda might be trying to force in the minds, of the people of this earth, the fact of the matter is that Western countries, in 2020, have entered the greatest depression in the whole of Modernity and this depression is bound to last, at least 10 years but most probably more, creating massive poverty and misery while disintegrating the sickest among Western societies.
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Covid like a pin first deflated the Western financial bubble in 2020. The FED’s response was the shuffling of uncounted trillions of dollars of paper around the economy in the hope of igniting the animal spirits on Wall Street. This was realized, among other, by :

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— Cutting Federal funds rate to a range of 0% to 0.25%
— Purchasing massive amounts of debt securities with a questionable value
— Colossal amounts of low interest rate loans to the largest primary dealers
— Lending to banks against collateral in IOUs or commercial paper
— Funneling cash to overnight repo-markets
— Expansion of International swap lines
— Massive amounts of funding to foreign central banks without swap lines
— Cash to the banks against questionable paper collateral at the discount window
— Support of the flow of credit to U.S. corporations
— Lending to corporations through the Commercial Paper Funding Facility (CPFF)
— Lending to households, consumers, and small businesses against asset-backed securities
— Backstopping municipal and state borrowing
— Etc…
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The result of this financial largess became visible in the second part of 2021. An ever increasing inflation sows misery in the poorest families and people resist this inflation by claiming higher wages which results in the multiplication of social conflicts.
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We furthermore recently discovered that all this would be topped this winter by a new wave of Covid infections. The forecasts indicate that the Omicron surge could push the number of infections to their highest level yet. The UT COVID-19 Modeling Consortium at the University of Texas at Austin projects that by the end of January, more than 500,000 people could catch the virus every day on average … with and estimated 3,876 deaths per day on average…
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In sum the West is confronted with : societal disintegration + the greatest of all depressions + hyperinflation + social conflicts + a new Covid wave that could be worse than the earlier ones. The least we can say is that this is going to fatally weaken the US and the same can be said of Europe.

And then came the following…

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2021-12-07 : Putin and Biden have a 2 hour video-talk about the Ukraine crisis.

2021-12-07 : President Biden says that putting American troops on the ground in Ukraine to deter a potential Russian invasion is “not on the table” and that he hoped there would be an announcement by Friday 9th of high-level meetings with Russia and major NATO allies to discuss Moscow’s “concerns relative to NATO writ large” and the possibility of “bringing down the temperature along the eastern front.”
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2021-12-15 : Putin and Xi have a video call and discuss tensions in Europe and the “aggressive” U.S. and NATO rhetoric. Wang Wenbin, spokesperson for the Chinese Ministry of Foreign Affairs, answered the following to a reporter who asked him what was the outcome of this video-call :
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“The world is witnessing the combined forces of changes and a pandemic both unseen in a century against the backdrop of complex and profound changes in the international and regional landscape. We believe that China and Russia, two permanent members of the UN Security Council, take on an important mission in defending regional peace and stability and promoting development and the revitalization of all countries.

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For some time, certain countries have been drawing ideological lines, building new military blocs and stoking regional tensions, which have all brought grave threats and challenges to regional peace and stability and global strategic stability. China and Russia firmly reject this.

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We will continue to follow the two leaders’ consensus, take up responsibility, unite all forces that love peace and support peace, and make active contribution to realizing sustained, universal and common security in the region and the wider world.”.There was no way for China to assert more clearly that it is siding with Russia in its demands… but everyone seems to have missed the seriousness of the Chinese side ……except for M. K. Bhadrakumar who is one of the most lucid observers out there.Few people understand the meaning of the expression “the two leaders’ consensus”. This expression relates to the will of their countries to see these two leaders in place for the long haul during the stabilization of the post-Western world order.Both countries, not in their unanimity but certainly in their large majority, have sensed since some years already that they have someone unique in their present president. A person who outshines the other decision-makers around them in term of their stamina and their mental clarity. How is it possible, that the West does not get this, is beyond my understanding ?.2021-12-17 : Moscow releases the texts of two documents in the form of two draft treaties that many interpreted as an ultimatum of Russia to the West.2021-12-17 : Secretary-General Jens Stoltenberg asserts the alliance’s prerogative to intervene in Ukraine and bluntly rejects Moscow’s notions that it could have a say on the alliance’s future expansion plans.2021-12-19 : Christine Lambrecht, German Minister of Defense, Asserts that NATO was willing to discuss Moscow’s demands but would not allow Moscow to “dictate” to the alliance or its partners.By the 20th of December Western media were littered with articles belittling the partnership between China and Russia as “still having an artificial flavor” and suggesting that China would never fight the US along Russia.

Ultimately, they proclaim, Russia will join the West in defeating China.

But this is the propaganda of a rear guard of Western ideologues who are bluffing their way trying to force their madness on all nations that refuse to submit to their unilateral order.
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The Russian treaty/ultimatum has to be understood as a first act in a wider strategy that is being played out, in concert by Russia and China, in order to provoke the financial and economic fall of the US.

But why pushing the US to fall precisely now ?

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Well the present context offers a unique opportunity. The Chinese sages never tired to repeat that if you are forced to fight you do it when your enemy is at its weakest ! And the present Geopolitical context announces the coming of the peak bacterial catalysis infesting Western wounds. This is why pushing the US to fall precisely now has the best chances to succeed.
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Now about China. It is without any doubt an a-religious country.

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Its early-power society grew, as the outcome of the cultural unification of its tribes, sometimes between 6000 and 5000 years ago. And thereafter it constantly actualized animism with present changing trends by topping it with add-ons in the same way as open-source software integrates innovations from the community… Now animism was a highly pragmatic knowledge formation approach that is rooted in observation over the very long haul that led to the induction of abstract principles from this observation. Animism remains in application today in its appellation of “Chinese Traditional Culture” which is a form of animism+.
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This means that China is — a-religious — highly pragmatic — and a reserved nation with reserved individuals.
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What this means is that the Chinese thinking is not driven by ideology and is not experiencing the need to impose itself on others. Having said that the Chinese have been observing the vile racist aggression coming out of the West over the last few years. They have spoken little. They have observed and have been thinking hard. And now they are at the end of their strategic patience. Chinese leaders know darn well that they have not much of a history in diplomacy which means, if I may say so, that their practice has not had the time yet to grow into a perfectly polished whole. That is why China, in all humility, openly recognizes Russia’s ‘panache’ in the diplomatic field and now relies on it to position its own.
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So it was only natural for China to let Russia publicly initiate the decisive movement forward in their common play for a new world order. China publicly sided with Russia when it announced its treaty-proposal/ultimatum and what is most important is that China detains the weapon of last resort which is the termination of US dollar payments for the delivery of its goods and services. ;

Fast forward…

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Russian leaders have informed their Western counterparts that if they do not start to negotiate soon they will take the necessary technical measures to make them understand that they are deadly serious. It seems that Westerners have understood this part of Russia’s argument. Russian leaders even went further and informed very publicly that if the West was participating in negotiations in order to drag them down they would use their technical means to awake Western attention.
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The latest news is now that negotiations will start in the beginning of January 2022. In the eyes of the Russians one month is amply sufficient to reach an agreement and if there is no agreement by the end of the month they say that they will act.
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Coincidentally President Putin and President Xi will meet in Beijing to open the Winter Olympics on the 4th of February 2022 at Beijing National Stadium. The Russian timing of the conclusion of its negotiations with the US and Nato coincides thus with the very public and media relayed meeting of President Putin and President Xi ! Ho ho…
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Now the fact is that the discourse of Russian leaders leaves no place for a 3rd alternative as a possible outcome of these talks. From what we hear it is — or “we have a deal” and the West accepts a retreat to its posture before the fall of the Soviet Union — or “we have no deal” and China and Russia, on the 4th of February, announce their further game-plan to the world.
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Some Russian officials have already announced that one of the measures that they could take if there is no agreement is to refuse payment in dollars for any goods they export…

And the fact is that China’s Digital Yuan is ready for use by the Chinese public at large. By October there were already 140 million people who had opened “wallets” and remember that this digital yuan has been designed, over the last 7 years, to act as a new technical payment system for international exchanges that will thus for the first time be free of Swift’s intervention and Washington’s judicial long arm…

This Digital Yuan will also be connected to block-chains that will handle the currency exchange between Yuan and local currency, the final payment as well as tax matters, transportation matters,… all this promises to erase the hefty bank commissions and lengthy bureaucratic delays which should catch the attention of the buyers of Chinese goods while reducing the volume of exchanges in US dollars.
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To get a sense of how the digital Yuan is going to impact the world watch these 2 interviews of Richard Turrin who is one of the most knowledgeable English speakers about the subject.

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China’s Central Bank Digital Currency by Fat Tail Investment Research
Big Tech in China and the Digital Yuan by Oriol Caudevilla

Excuse my bluntness…

You tell ’em! Video. 15MB

Humanity’s fate will most probably be decided in this first quarter of 2022

The first quarter of 2022 will most probably be remembered, for a long time to come, for having decided humanity’s model of collective response to “the Great Convergence of Late-Modernity“. If I’m proven right then what happens in this month of January will be determinant for the future of humanity.
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So how best can we summarize the situation ?

1. The general context of the 2020’s

To understand what is humanity’s present situation we have first to comprehend the context in which the nations on this earth are interacting today.
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1.1. The countering of Western hubris

After the fall of the Soviet-Union the West got caught up in a bout of hubris that completely detached it from reality. It thought that its liberal world order had triumphed, that history was coming to an end, and that it got crowned master of humanity. But the nature of reality is a bitch. It always finishes by erasing what goes against its way.
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So how is the nature of reality countering Western ways ?
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1.1.1. The relations between nations are conditioned by the realities of their internal situations

- societal cohesion glues the minds of the individual citizens in a collective entity that acts as one entity. The fact of the matter is that Russia, China, and other non-Western countries are strong and cohesive societies.

- societal atomization un-glues the minds and makes it impossible for a nation to continue to act as one national entity. The fact is that Western nations have engaged on an individualist path since many centuries and over the last 50 years they have atomized in a mass of self-centered egos who can no longer act as one nation.

the fact of the matter is that societally atomized nations, in all circumstances, lose to societally cohesive nations

1.1.2. Reactions to a Western centric International order

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Confronted to Western centric International organizations, that one-sidedly protect Western interests while their governance systems are one-sidedly being kept in the hands of Western countries, China and the bulk of the world population are creating new International institutions that better cater to their interests : — the Asian Infrastructure Investment Bank (AIIB) — the Belt and roads (new Silk Roads) — and the next institution that will dethrone the dollar of its world monetary reserve status could very well be on its way…
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Such new institutions are the sole defense mechanisms against Western non-democratic practices within the present international order. See for yourself.

Europe has 2 representatives in the Security Council of the United Nations while India, Africa, the Tri-Continental-Area, and Latin-America have no representatives.

This gives the West a majority in the Security-Council with a veto power while it barely representsely 10% of the world population.

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The same kind of hegemonic domineering is at work at the world Bank where the US has 15.56 % of the voting rights. Japan has 7.31 %. China has 5.42%. Germany has 4.17 %. The United-Kingdom has 4.05 %. France has 4.05 %, India has 3.16%. Russia has 2.87%. Canada has 2.82 %. etc…
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Now the fact is that the deeper, the existing Western order is being countered by new institutions, the weaker that order becomes and the more pressing is the agreement, of all countries on this earth, about the structuring of a new system of world governance that could take on the predicament of humanity.

Conscious of this China and Russia think that the time has come to confront the West to the realities of the present context.

1.1.3. Fiat money is an instrument of exchange that is ruled by two First Principles

- Contrary to what ideologies are peddling the money in circulation must be sufficient but may not surpass the exchanging needs of society. In other words, within the realm of the economic rules of the game, the economic actors need to have access to money in order to practice their exchanges. If the money in circulation does not satisfy their needs then the value of that money starts to increase and prices start to fall bringing about an era of deflation. But when the money in circulation surpasses their needs that money starts to lose its value and prices start to increase bringing an era of inflation.
  .
  The US has without a shred of a doubt engaged in monetary hubris over the last decades and more particularly over the last 3 years when the volume of dollars in circulation abruptly increased by nearly 50% while the economic activity of the country was flat at a near 0% growth rate ! In this context it is not surprising that reality would slowly be re-imposing its way. As a consequence the value of the dollar started to decrease and US citizens are confronted to increasing prices. Seen the canyon full of recent dollar creation there is no escaping its rout in value. US citizens will thus be forced to confront hyper-inflation while foreign exporters to the US will not escape the necessity to increase their prices. Some might even soon refuse to be paid in US dollars all together.
  .
  These realities are inescapable and the most important question that nobody dares to ask is “what happens when China refuses dollars as payment for its exports ?”.

To use a fiat currency it is imperative that the citizens and the International community trust the emitter of that fiat currency. A dwindling trust in the emitter comes at the cost of the value of its currency and the citizens as well as the International community start to look for alternatives.
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US citizens have visibly lost trust in the emitter of the dollar and those who are awake to the nature of monetary realities are converting their dollars in all kinds of other instruments among which cryptocurrencies like Bitcoin are the most visible. But citizens are also converting their fiat dollars in many other items like : art works, antiques, real estate, farming land, raw materials and all kinds of “real non-perishable goods”. The International community has also taken notice and is reducing its holdings of US paper instruments while converting those in “real non-perishable goods”. Another avenue that the International community has been exploring is — the replacement of Swift as the exclusive intermediary of International transfers of US dollars — the replacement of the US dollar as the world’s reserve currency. China and Russia have created their own swift and China’s digital Yuan is available to import and export companies from China or working with China. If interested to understand how the system works watch these 2 interviews of Richard Turrin who is one of the most knowledgeable English speakers about the subject.
China’s Central Bank Digital Currency by Fat Tail Investment Research
Big Tech in China and the Digital Yuan by Oriol Caudevilla

1.1.4. The military is a tool of last resort

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In a last resort the nation with the most potent military always comes out of the conflict as a winner takes all and it then automatically becomes the architect of the next cycle of International relations.

2. The present situation

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Russia feels cornered its back against a wall and it has had enough of all the bullying by Western nations.

2.1. The first round

In the words of President Putin Russia has no margin left to take a step back against the Western encirclement and it wants written guarantees about the principles of a level playing field that will give all parties confidence in their security. To that effect Russia proposed 2 treaties between itself and the West and its military-wing Nato. It also informed the West and the world that the negotiations needed to be short and to the point and that the treaties need to be signed immediately. If these conditions are not respected President Putin and others in his administration have informed that Russia would take appropriate military and technical actions to protect itself against what they describe is the naked aggression by the West against Russia’s sovereignty..

2.2. The 2nd round

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Some Western representatives rejected any compromise with Russia and in the footsteps of this news a propaganda campaign was launched against the imminent attack of Ukraine by Russia. Russia repeatedly denied this accusation and gave the West a time limit to answer its treaty proposals in writing. If no answer is forthcoming Russia promises to act. The West then proposed a meeting between the US Secretary of State and the Russian Foreign Minister. This proposal seems to have been accepted by Russia which shows that its answer would be so grave that it prefers to try once more the diplomatic card. But by the end of this week, by the 22nd or 23rd of January, Russia will need an answer on the table or its credibility will be tested indeed and so it will be forced to act.

2.3. The US plays the madman

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The United-States are playing the role of the madman that President Richard Nixon had initiated against the Soviet Union in the nineteen-sixties and they are betting that the Russians will not dare to confront them. But the fact is that President Putin would never engage in a dog-fight that he knew he could not win.

3. Without a deal Russia will move to shell-shock the USA back into reality

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In matter of fact only a very profound shock will awake Western big capital holders, and their servants the American and European public decision-makers, to the reality that their countries are cornered and have lost their military superiority.
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What kind of action could this be ?

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Military experts are without any doubt better equipped than I’m to answer this question. But it nevertheless seems to me that, in today’s web addicted world what will be determinant in Russia’s action will be to gain the world’s attention to the fact that the USA has been duly informed about the superiority of Russian missiles. In consequence Russian actions will be limited; sparing lives but destroying US and Nato most crucial infrastructure.
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This vision gambles on the following facts :

- Russia has assurances from China that it stands ready to act

- the minds of US and European decision-makers are very deeply embroiled in ideology and can thus no longer think straight along the lines of reality

- to be shocked back into reality will unmistakably be sobering the minds of Western populations

- the minds of US old male decision-makers are still emotionally attached to the future fate of their grand-kids

all this should unleash sufficient pressure in the minds of US decision-makers to stand back and try to find a face-saving solution that the Russians and the Chinese can agree with.

However one looks at today’s situation the fact of the matter is that not acting now equals to further submit the world to Western diktats that become more egregious by the day. This would necessarily lead to an outcome that is far worse than whatever would be the outcome of the Russian-Chinese gamble that I have tried to describe.

USA policy is for the wealthy only

video 4MB

We’ve Seen the Ultimatum, What Is the “or Else”?

Patrick Armstrong • December 21, 2021

• 1,500 Words • Found Here

We are making it clear that we are ready to talk about changing from a military or a military-technical scenario to a political process that really will strengthen the military security… of all the countries in the OCSE, Euro-Atlantic and Eurasian space. We’ve told them that if that doesn’t work out, we will create counter-threats; then it will be too late to ask us why we made such decisions and positioned such weapons systems. 

Мы как раз даем понять, что мы готовы разговаривать о том, чтобы военный сценарий или военно-технический сценарий перевести в некий политический процесс, который реально укрепит военную безопасность <…> всех государств на пространстве ОБСЕ, Евроатлантики, Евразии. А если этого не получится, то мы уже обозначили им (НАТО – прим. ТАСС), тогда мы тоже перейдем в вот этот режим создания контругроз, но тогда будет поздно нас спрашивать, почему мы приняли такие решения, почему мы разместили такие системы.

— Russian Deputy Foreign Minister Aleksandr Grushko quoted by TASS

Moscow has issued an ultimatum to USA/NATO. It is this: seriously negotiate on the issues laid out here and here. Some of them are non-negotiable.

Ultimatums always have an “Or Else” clause. What is the “or else” in this case? I don’t know but I’ve been thinking and reading other peoples’ thoughts and some ideas/guesses/suppositions follow. They are the order that they occurred to me. Whether Moscow has such a list in front of it or not, it certainly has many “counter-threats” it can use.

Why now? Two possible answers, each of which may be true. US/NATO have been using “salami tactics” against Russia for years; Moscow has decided that a second Ukraine crisis in one year is one thin slice too many. Second: Moscow may judge that, in the USA’s precipitous decline, this will be the last chance that there will be sufficient central authority to form a genuine agreement; an agreement that will avoid a catastrophic war. (The so-called Thucydides Trap).

Of course I don’t know what Putin & Co will do and we do have to factor in the existence of a new international player: Putin, Xi and Partners. Xi has just made it clear that Beijing supports Moscow’s “core interests”. It is likely that any “counter-threats” will be coordinated. The Tabaquis have responded as expected but maybe (let’s hope so) Washington is taking it more seriously.

Other commentaries I think are worth reading: Martyanov, Bernhard, Saker, Doctorow. The Western media is worthless as a source of independent thinking (typical clichéfest from the BBC – bolstered by The Misquotation) but maybe the WaPo shows that the wind is starting to blow from a different quarter: “The Cold War is over. Why do we still treat Russia like the Evil Empire?“

To my CSIS readers: the world is at a grave inflection point and the West had better concentrate its attention. Moscow and Beijing don’t depend on me for advice and I’m not talking to them: regard this as one of the briefing notes that I used to write. Moscow is serious and it does have real “counter-threats”.

MILITARY MEASURES

Moscow could publish a list of targets in NATO countries that can and will be hit by nuclear or non-nuclear standoff weapons in the event of hostilities. These would likely include headquarters, airbases, port facilities, logistics facilities, ammunition dumps, military bases, munitions factories and so on.

Moscow could station medium and short-range nuclear missiles in Kaliningrad and Belarus. The latter requires agreement from Minsk but Belarus President Lukashenka has hinted that it will be granted. Moscow could then make it clear that they are aimed at NATO targets.

Moscow could station Iskanders and have lots of aircraft in the air with Kinzhals and let it be known that they are aimed at NATO targets.

Moscow could make a sudden strike by stand-off weapons and special forces that destroys the Azov Battalion in Eastern Ukraine. Moscow would see two advantages: 1) it would remove the principal threat to the LDNR and 2) it would change the correlation of forces in Kiev. It would also be a live demonstration of Russia’s tremendous military power.

Moscow could remind the West of the meaning of Soviet Marshal Ogarkov’s observation that precision weapons have, to a degree, made nuclear weapons obsolete. A prescient remark, somewhat ahead of its time 35 years ago, but realised now by Russia’s arsenal of hypersonic precision missiles.

The Russian Navy operates the quietest submarines in the world; Moscow could could make and publish a movie of the movements of some NATO ship as seen through the periscope.

I believe (suspect/guess) that the Russian Armed Forces have the capability to blind Aegis-equipped ships. Moscow could do so in public in a way that cannot be denied. Without Aegis, the US surface navy is just targets. Objection: this is a war-winning secret and should not be lightly used. Unless, of course, the Russian Armed Forces have something even more effective.

Moscow could form more shock forces like the First Guards Tank Army.

Russia has large and very powerful airborne forces – much stronger than the light infantry of other countries, they are capable of seizing and holding territory against all but heavy armoured attacks. And they’re being increased. Moscow could demonstrate their capability in an exercise showing a sudden seizing of key enemy facilities like a port or major airfield, inviting NATO representatives to watch from the target area.

The Russian Armed Forces could do some obvious targetting of the next NATO element to come close to Russia’s borders; they could aggressively ping ships and aircraft that get too close and publicise it.

Moscow could make a public demonstration of what Poseidons can do and show in a convincing way that they are at sea off the US coast. Ditto with Burevestnik. In short Moscow could directly threaten the US mainland with non-nuclear weapons. Something that no one has been able to do since 1814.

Moscow could reveal some new wonder weapons (several have been revealed this week: super torpedo, Okhotnik dropping PGM, RPV shooting down helicopter target.)

Does the Club-K Container Missile System actually exist? (If so, Moscow could give a public demonstration, if not pretend that it does). Either way, Moscow could publicly state that they will be all over the place and sell them to countries threatened by USA/NATO.

DIPLOMATIC/INTERNATIONAL MEASURES

Moscow could publicly transfer some key military technologies to China with licence to build them there.

Moscow could make a formal military treaty with China with an “Article 5” provision.

Moscow could make a formal military treaty with Belarus including significant stationed strike forces.

Moscow could station forces in Central Asian neighbours.

Russia and Chinese warships accompanied by long-range strike aircraft could do a “freedom of navigation” cruise in the Gulf of Mexico.

Moscow could recall ambassadors, reduce foreign missions, restrict movement of diplomats in Russia.

Moscow could ban all foreign NGOs immediately without going through the present process.

Moscow could recognise LDNR and sign defence treaties.

Moscow could work on Turkey, Hungary and other dissident EU/NATO members.

Moscow could give military aid to or station weapons in Western Hemisphere countries.

Beijing could do something in its part of the world to show its agreement and coordination with Moscow raising the threat of a two front conflict.

ECONOMIC MEASURES

Moscow could close airspace to civil airlines of the countries that sanction Russia.

Moscow could declare that Russian exports must now be paid for in Rubles, gold, Renminbi or Euros (Euros? It depends).

Moscow could announce that Nord Stream 2 will be abandoned if certification if delayed past a certain date. (Personally, I am amused by how many people think that shutting it down would cause more harm to Russia than to Germany: for the first it’s only money and Russia has plenty of that; for the second….)

Moscow could stop all sales of anything to USA (rocket motors and oil especially).

Moscow could announce that no more gas contracts to countries that sanction it will be made after the current ones end. This is a first step. See below.

As a second and more severe step, Moscow could break all contracts with countries that sanction Russia on the grounds that a state of hostility exists. That is, all oil and gas deliveries stop immediately.

Moscow could announce that no more gas will be shipped to or through Ukraine on the grounds that a state of hostility exists.

Russia and China could roll out their counter-SWIFT ASAP.

SUBVERSIVE MEASURES

Moscow could stir up trouble in eastern Ukraine (Novorossiya) supporting secession movements.

Moscow could order special forces to attack key nazi organisations throughout Ukraine.

Moscow could order special forces to attack military facilities throughout Ukraine.

*********************************************

But I’m sure that whatever “counter-threats” Moscow comes up with will be powerful and surprise the West. My recommendation is that USA/NATO take the ultimatums seriously.

After all, the Russian proposals really are mutually beneficial – their theme is that nobody should threaten anybody and if anybody should feel threatened, there should be serious talks to resolve the issue.

Security is mutual:

if all feel secure, then all are secure;

if one feels insecure, then none is secure.

As we now see: when Russia feels threatened by what USA/NATO do, it can threaten back. Better to live in a world in which nobody is threatening anybody and everybody feels secure.

George Kennan foresaw this a quarter of a century ago:

I think the Russians will gradually react quite adversely and it will affect their policies. I think it is a tragic mistake. There was no reason for this whatsoever. No one was threatening anybody else.

Some great marching

You know, I’ve never really paid attention to the “goose step” march. But when I came to China I learned taht it is realy just a part of what is a much more interesting march. It’s worh the watch. video 17MB

CAN THEY LEARN? ANOTHER US WARGAME DEFEAT

On August 12, 2021 By Patrick Armstrong

First published Strategic Culture Foundation. picked up by ZeroHedge, Verity Weekly, scottadamsshow, usanewsguru, invest.smola.com, alltopcash.com, patriotnews, financial world, in Spanish,

(Note: by tradition, going back to the first Prussian Kriegsspiel, your side is “Blue”, the other side is “Red”. Soviets did it the other way round.)

According to David Halberstam, when Washington was considering escalating its presence in Vietnam, a wargame was held to test options. More bombing aircraft were put into airfields in Vietnam; Red attacked the airfields. Blue brought in more troops to guard the airfields; Red started attacking the supply lines for those troops. More troops to guard the supply lines; more attacks on their support systems. And so on: everything the American side thought up was quickly and easily countered by the Vietnam team. The results were ignored: only a game, not really real.

Forward to 2002 and a very large and complicated exercise simulating a US attack on – not named, but obviously – Iran. The retired USMC general playing Red – a no-nonsense experienced soldier who didn’t believe technology was the answer to everything (especially the projected wonders that the wargame granted to the American side), scorned business-school buzzwords like “network-centric” – thought outside the box and used low-tech weaponry. When the US high-tech took out his communications, as he knew they would, he went silent – his communications were by motorcycle dispatch riders, coded messages in Friday prayers and similar old-school techniques. He fired more missiles that the Blue side could handle and sank most of the invasion force and finished off the rest with swarms of small boats. “The whole thing was over in five, maybe ten minutes“. The invasion force was brought back to life, the rules were modified to reduce the defenders’ abilities – the Red force commander was on the point of destroying the reconstituted landing forces – and the US side “won”. He walked out when he decided that the game was too rigged for him to bother doing anything; as he said in a report: “this whole thing was prostituted; it was a sham intended to prove what they wanted to prove“.

Each of these wargames was supposed to be a learning and testing experience. The first was testing what to do and how to do it in Vietnam, the second, more ambitious, was supposed to test the whole package of the new US military in every aspect – it is said to have cost a quarter of a billion dollars and involved 13,000 participants. What was learned from the two? Certainly nothing was learned from the Vietnam wargame – Washington went ahead and put troops in – just a few at first but rising to an incredible 500,000 at the height and dropped a fantastic number of bombs; corners were turned, light was seen at the end of the tunnel but everyone knew it was a lost cause and no one wanted to say so. The enemy countered and endured everything and, at the end, the US went home defeated. The war game turned out to be a rather accurate predictor of the future. And it doesn’t appear that the US military have learned anything from the 2002 experience either. Certainly nothing in Washington’s behaviour towards Iran gives the impression that the US leadership imagines it could be defeated if it attacks Iran.

Nor, come to think of it, is there evidence that it learned anything much from the Vietnam reality either. Afghanistan was, in many respects, a replay of Vietnam: a determined low-tech force countered everything the US military could think up. In 2018, Les Gelb, the compiler of the Pentagon Papers said:

You know, we get involved in these wars and we don’t know a damn thing about those countries, the culture, the history, the politics, people on top and even down below. And, my heavens, these are not wars like World War II and World War I, where you have battalions fighting battalions. These are wars that depend on knowledge of who the people are, with the culture is like. And we jumped into them without knowing. That’s the damned essential message of the Pentagon Papers.

And now we move forward two decades. Last October another wargame simulated a US defence of Taiwan against a Chinese attack. Another test of some high-falutin war-fighting concept. (One might parenthetically ask how many of these concepts are actually business-school ideas given the predilection of US generals for MBAs. Probably the worst imaginable preparation for what our USMC “Iranian” commander called a “terrible, uncertain, chaotic, bloody business“.) General John Hyten, Joint Chiefs of Staff Vice Chairman, and MBA, reported on the wargame:

Without overstating the issue, [Blue force] failed miserably. An aggressive red team that had been studying the United States for the last 20 years just ran rings around us. They knew exactly what we’re going to do before we did it.

The first thing that went wrong for the Blue force was that it suddenly lost all its communications – as I have been saying (and the Chinese and Russians surely know) one of the fundamental assumptions of the US style in war-fighting is constant, reliable, assured communications. All its “smart” weapons need to be “talking” to their controllers all the time: stop the “talking” and they become immediately “stupid”. Then the US force was hit with wave after wave of missiles. And the rear areas were hit with waves of missiles. And that was that. And, in another wargame in 2020, Poland was annihilated by the Russians: Warsaw was surrounded in five days.

What stood out for me in Hyten’s refreshingly honest presentation was this: “studying the United States for the last 20 years”. Washington officials are not noted for their ability to see things from the other side’s point of view, but he certainly got that one right. China (and Russia and Iran) know that they are on Washington’s hitlist. They have been watching Washington fight wars for two or three decades (winning none of them, despite the hype); they know how Washington fights; they know its strengths and weaknesses. They have put a lot of thought into it. One might also observe that, while Washington fights its wars safely overseas, China, Russia and Iran have very strong memories of wars fought on their own territory. This gives them, as Andrei Martyanov is always pointing out, a rather different view of war – it’s not some affair of choice far away over there, it’s a horrible, deadly, bloody, immensely destructive process in your own home.

The United States has zero historic experience with defending the US proper against powerful and brutal enemies. It is a cultural difference, a profound one and it manifests itself across the whole spectrum of activities, not just the respective military-industrial complexes. In other words, Russians MUST build top of the line weaponry, because the safety of Russia depends on it.

Losing for them is not the American way of losing – no walking away, explaining away and forgetting away: it’s life or death. They take war seriously and they put the effort into thinking about how to defend themselves against an American attack. They know that air superiority and assured communications are the necessities of the American way of war; they know the US military expects to accumulate huge forces undisturbed. They haven’t used these years idly; they won’t wait for the Americans to leisurely assemble the force to bomb them. That’s why they have concentrated on EW and lots of missiles. The US won’t have secure communications, free air power or safe bases: Beijing. Moscow and Tehran, if they have to fight, will fight to win. And do whatever it takes; no umpire will appear to “call foul” and re-float the fleet.

In the real world, Ukraine’s “de-occupation” boasting was silenced in two weeks by a huge Russian mobilisation. Surely somebody in the Pentagon noticed that. HMS Defender’s adventure off Crimea (incidently the only one of the six ships of its class actually fit for sea – not, in itself, a very impressive performance) may also have taught some lessons about the consequences of silly gestures.

Nothing was learned from the Vietnam or Iran wargames, what about this one? General Hyten said:

the U.S. has reevaluated the joint warfighting concept. He said the new strategy being developed is “not quite a clean-sheet approach, because you can never take a clean sheet of paper if you want to get between now and 2030, you have to start with what you have.”

That sounds good – “clean-sheet” – but you know that nothing will really change. Vietnam was supposed to teach a lesson (and the US Army certainly did improve) but, essentially, it did the same things all over again in Afghanistan. For twice as long. I doubt that this exercise will cause the full-scale change that he’s talking about. Complacency will probably return.

Even so, one would like to be a fly on the wall when US senior military brief the President: “failed miserably”, Afghanistan defeat (coming soon to Iraq and Syria), Russian and Chinese military power, hypersonic manoeuvring missiles, EW, layered air defence. The briefings can’t be too upbeat, can they? Could this be why the big exercise in the Black Sea ended so quietly? Could this be in the background of the decision to stop trying to block Nord Stream? Could this be a reason why Biden asked to meet with Putin? The couch-warriors will never understand this of course, but perhaps one can hope that the generals will – Hyten seems to have but, just as American wars are a sequence of one-year wars because each commander kicks the failure down the road for his successor to worry about, his replacement may return to the complacency of being at the top of “the greatest military in the history of the world“.

But, one can hope they’ll learn a little humility.

A reality check on American “democracy”

Video 5MB

RUSSIAN FEDERATION SITREP 20 JANUARY 2022 by Patrick Armstrong

Posted on January 20, 2022 by Patrick Armstrong

ULTIMATUM. The EU is not in the picture – too weak and the US won’t fight for it; NATO ditto. Do Berlin and Paris start to see reality? London has invited Shoygu but is shipping PAWs to Ukraine. Russia keeps up the pressure – a not-very-reliable source says a nuke boat surfaced off the US coast. Lots of exercises – Guards Tank Army, social media videos of military equipment moving around. Live firing of the formidable Iskanders. Lost submarines in the Med. A representative tough-guy piece from a couch warrior (she of we have good int on Russia fame). It is now clear the US/EU/NATO are not going to fight for Ukraine – empty threats and futile sanctions are all Kiev can expect. But the SWIFT threat would be a big shot to the foot. Somebody notices that Russia is pretty sanction proof (Googlish from INOSMI). In short, Russia pretty much has the hammer. We see the fruits of Putin & Co’s long game.

DONBASS. It should be understood that the official position in Moscow at present is that the rebel areas are part of Ukraine and the Minsk Agreement provides a method for resolving grievances. (Note, BTW, given the constant refrain that Moscow must “comply”, that it has no obligation). But this position could suddenly change given that Kiev has never fulfilled any part (especially No 4) and that Kiev’s “allies” haven’t tried to make it. One of the many possible “Or Elses“.

GUNS. Improved Pantsir AD system coming. Completely modernised White Swan makes maiden flight. Three new subs this year. China-Russia-Iran naval drills start tomorrow.

TALK SHOWS. Russian TV loves long talk shows – Doctorow has an interesting piece on one of the most important. “Russian elites talk WAR: ‘Evening with Vladimir Solovyov,’”

PEDOPHILES. The Duma has passed a bill providing for life imprisonment for serial pedophiles.

HACKERS. Russian security is arresting members of the REvil hacking group at Washington’s request. They are thought to be behind the ransomware attack on Colonial Pipeline last year.

COVID. The Duma has postponed a bill requiring QR code proof of vaccination. There is a good deal of resistance to this in Russia.

NAVALIY. Leonid Volkov and Ivan Zhdanov, close allies of Navalniy, have been added to the state register of extremists. Neither is in Russia.

RUSSIAN DOLPHINS OFF US COAST. For your amusement.

CIA TRAINING. We learn that the CIA has been running training programs in Ukraine since 2014. Moscow has a good deal of experience of dealing with Washington-supported nazi resistance in Ukraine.

GALICIA. Anybody know why Ioseb Bissarionis-dze decided to put it in the Ukrainian SSR rather than giving it back to Poland in 1945? An important decision as it’s turned out.

KAZAKHSTAN. That didn’t take long, did it? All the CSTO troops are back home. They say at least 225 (including 19 police and soldiers) died, about 4500 injured. A lot of people in the security organs have been arrested, starting with Masimov, the head of the National Security Committee, some defenestrated; so the plot ran deep. (Here’s a photo of Masimov with – of all people – Hunter and Joe). If this were an attempt by some part of the US deep state to answer Moscow, it only shows how profoundly out of touch they are. Nazarbayev appears, everything’s calm. Interesting take on what it was all about here.

LESSONS LEARNED. Little countries often try to play off the big guys against each other. But Kazakhstan and Belarus have just learned that this isn’t possible today because Washington wants total control. Others will learn from these examples.

NUGGETS FROM THE STUPIDITY MINE. I don’t remember Soviet propagandists assuming their consumers to be as stupid as the creators of this do. Ummm – you told us that Putin tried to kill him, he’s completely in his power now: shouldn’t you at least spend a little effort coming up with some explanation for why he’s still alive to give interviews to you?

THE EMPTINESS OF FORMER FLAPS. ICAO supports Minsk on the Ryanair grounding last year – a few inconsistencies but no “air piracy“. And “Havana syndrome” bites the dust. Ah well, on to the next…

RUSSIA-IRAN. The two Presidents are meeting. The beginning of something big. Very Mackinderish.

SWEDEN. This week drones, last week the Russians were going to snatch Gotland. Years ago somebody in the Swedish security apparatus told me that these stories – “submarine sightings” in those days – were faked up by the people in the Swedish security organs who want it to join NATO.

A treaty with Washington isn’t worth the paper it’s written on. That’s just how I see it, surely saner and smarter men have also noticed this.

-Baxter

American Homeless

video 63MB

What War With Russia Would Look Like

January 10, 2022

Wendy Sherman thinks her aim in talks with Russian officials starting Monday is to lecture them on the cost of hubris. Instead she’s set to lead the U.S., NATO, and Europe down a path of ruin, warns Scott Ritter.

If ever a critical diplomatic negotiation was doomed to fail from the start, the discussions between the U.S. and Russia over Ukraine and Russian security guarantees is it.

The two sides can’t even agree on an agenda.

From the Russian perspective, the situation is clear:

“The Russian side came here [to Geneva] with a clear position that contains a number of elements that, to my mind, are understandable and have been so clearly formulated—including at a high level—that deviating from our approaches simply is not possible,”

Russian Deputy Foreign Minister Sergei Ryabkov told the press after a pre-meeting dinner on Sunday hosted by U.S. Deputy Secretary of State Wendy Sherman, who is leading the U.S. delegation.

Ryabkov was referring Russian President Vladimir Putin’s demands to U.S. President Joe Biden in early December regarding Russian security guarantees, which were then laid out by Moscow in detail in the form of two draft treaties, one a Russian-U.S. security treaty, the other a security agreement between Russia and NATO.

The latter would bar Ukraine from joining NATO and rule out any eastward expansion by the trans-Atlantic military alliance. At the time, Ryabkov tersely noted that the U.S. should immediately begin to address the proposed drafts with an eye to finalizing something when the two sides meet. Now, with the meeting beginning on Monday, it doesn’t appear as if the U.S. has done any such thing.

“[T]he talks are going to be difficult,” Ryabkov told reporters after the dinner meeting. “They cannot be easy. They will be business-like. I think we won’t waste our time tomorrow.”

When asked if Russia was ready to compromise, Ryabkov tersely responded, “The Americans should get ready to reach a compromise.”

All the U.S. has been willing to do, it seems, is to remind Russia of so-called “serious consequences” should Russia invade Ukraine, something the U.S. and NATO fear is imminent, given the scope and scale of recent Russian military exercises in the region involving tens of thousands of troops. This threat was made by Biden to Putin on several occasions, including a phone call initiated by Putin last week to help frame the upcoming talks.

Yet on the eve of the Ryabkov-Sherman meeting, U.S. Secretary of State Tony Blinken simply reiterated these threats, declaring that Russia would face “massive consequences” if it invaded Ukraine.

“It’s clear that we’ve offered him two paths forward,” Blinken said, speaking of Putin. “One is through diplomacy and dialogue; the other is through deterrence and massive consequences for Russia if it renews its aggression against Ukraine. And we’re about to test the proposition of which path President Putin wants to take this week.”

Lessons of History

It is as if both Biden and Blinken are deaf, dumb, and blind when it comes to reading Russia.

Ryabkov has alluded to a fact already made clear by the Russians—there will be no compromise when it comes to Russia’s legitimate national security interests. And if the U.S. cannot understand how the accumulation of military power encompassed in a military alliance which views Russia as a singular, existential threat to its members’ security is seen by Russia as threatening, then there is no comprehension of how the events of June 22, 1941 have shaped the present -day Russian psyche, why Russia will never again allow such a situation to occur, and why the talks are doomed before they even begin.

As for the American threats, Russia has given its response—any effort to sanction Russia would result, as Putin told Biden last month, in a “complete rupture of relations” between Russia and those countries attempting sanctions. One need not be a student of history to comprehend that the next logical step following a “complete rupture of relations” between two parties that are at loggerheads over matters pertaining to existential threats to the national security of one or both is not the peaceful resumption of relations, but war.

There is no mealy-mouthed posturing by Foggy Bottom peacocks taking place in Moscow, but rather a cold, hard, statement of fact—ignore Russia’s demands at you own peril. The U.S., it seems, believes that the worst-case scenario is one where Russia invades Ukraine, only to wilt under the sustained pressure of economic sanctions and military threats.

Russia’s worse-case scenario is one where it engages in armed conflict with NATO.

Generally speaking, the side that is most prepared for the reality of armed conflict will prevail.

Russia has been preparing for this possibility for more than a year. It has repeatedly shown a capability to rapidly mobilize 100,000-plus combat-ready forces in short order. NATO has shown an ability to mobilize 30,000 after six-to-nine-months of extensive preparations.

The Shape of War

What would a conflict between Russia and NATO look like? In short, not like anything NATO has prepared for. Time is the friend of NATO in any such conflict—time to let sanctions weaken the Russian economy, and time to allow NATO to build up sufficient military power to be able to match Russia’s conventional military strength.

Russia knows this, and as such, any Russian move will be designed to be both swift and decisive.

First and foremost, if it comes to it, when Russia decides to move on Ukraine, it will do so with a plan of action that has been well-thought out and which sufficient resources have been allocated for its successful completion. Russia will not get involved in a military misadventure in Ukraine that has the potential of dragging on and on, like the U.S. experience in Afghanistan and Iraq. Russia has studied an earlier U.S. military campaign—Operation Desert Storm, of Gulf War I—and has taken to heart the lessons of that conflict.

One does not need to occupy the territory of a foe in order to destroy it. A strategic air campaign designed to nullify specific aspects of a nations’ capability, whether it be economic, political, military, or all the above, coupled with a focused ground campaign designed to destroy an enemy’s army as opposed to occupy its territory, is the likely course of action.

Given the overwhelming supremacy Russia has both in terms of the ability to project air power backed by precision missile attacks, a strategic air campaign against Ukraine would accomplish in days what the U.S. took more than a month to do against Iraq in 1991.

On the ground, the destruction of Ukraine’s Army is all but guaranteed. Simply put, the Ukrainian military is neither equipped nor trained to engage in large-scale ground combat. It would be destroyed piecemeal, and the Russians would more than likely spend more time processing Ukrainian prisoners of war than killing Ukrainian defenders.

For any Russian military campaign against Ukraine to be effective in a larger conflict with NATO, however, two things must occur—Ukraine must cease to exist as a modern nation state, and the defeat of the Ukrainian military must be massively one-sided and quick. If Russia is able to accomplish these two objectives, then it is well positioned to move on to the next phase of its overall strategic posturing vis-à-vis NATO—intimidation.

While the U.S., NATO, the EU, and the G7 have all promised “unprecedented sanctions,” sanctions only matter if the other side cares. Russia, by rupturing relations with the West, no longer would care about sanctions. Moreover, it is a simple acknowledgement of reality that Russia can survive being blocked from SWIFT transactions longer than Europe can survive without Russian energy. Any rupturing of relations between Russia and the West will result in the complete embargoing of Russian gas and oil to European customers.

There is no European Plan B. Europe will suffer, and because Europe is composed of erstwhile democracies, politicians will pay the price. All those politicians who followed the U.S. blindly into a confrontation with Russia will now have to answer to their respective constituents why they committed economic suicide on behalf of a Nazi-worshipping, thoroughly corrupt nation (Ukraine) which has nothing in common with the rest of Europe. It will be a short conversation.

NATO’s Fix

If the U.S. tries to build up NATO forces on Russia’s western frontiers in the aftermath of any Russian invasion of Ukraine, Russia will then present Europe with a fait accompli in the form of what would now be known as the “Ukrainian model.” In short, Russia will guarantee that the Ukrainian treatment will be applied to the Baltics, Poland, and even Finland, should it be foolish enough to pursue NATO membership.

Russia won’t wait until the U.S. has had time to accumulate sufficient military power, either. Russia will simply destroy the offending party through the combination of an air campaign designed to degrade the economic function of the targeted nation, and a ground campaign designed to annihilate the ability to wage war. Russia does not need to occupy the territory of NATO for any lengthy period—just enough to destroy whatever military power has been accumulated by NATO near its borders.

And—here’s the kicker—short of employing nuclear weapons, there’s nothing NATO can do to prevent this outcome. Militarily, NATO is but a shadow of its former self. The once great armies of Europe have had to cannibalize their combat formations to assemble battalion-sized “combat groups” in the Baltics and Poland. Russia, on the other hand, has reconstituted two army-size formations—the 1^st Guards Tank Army and the 20^th Combined Arms Army—from the Cold War-era which specialize in deep offensive military action.

Even Vegas wouldn’t offer odds on this one.

Sherman will face off against Ryabkov in Geneva, with the fate of Europe in her hands. The sad thing is, she doesn’t see it that way. Thanks to Biden, Blinken and the host of Russophobes who populate the U.S. national security state today, Sherman thinks she is there to simply communicate the consequences of diplomatic failure to Russia. To threaten. With mere words.

What Sherman, Biden, Blinken, and the others have yet to comprehend is that Russia has already weighed the consequences and is apparently willing to accept them. And respond. With action.

One wonders if Sherman, Biden, Blinken, and the others have thought this through. Odds are, they have not, and the consequences for Europe will be dire.

Iran, China, Russia to kick off joint naval drills in Indian Ocean on January 21 — media

The drills will practice various maneuvers, in particular, rescuing a ship swept by fire, releasing a captured vessel and firing against targets.

TEHRAN, January 20. /TASS/. The Iranian, Chinese and Russian navies will begin joint naval maneuvers in the northern Indian Ocean waters on January 21, the ISNA news agency reported on Thursday, citing the Iranian army’s press office.

The drills will practice various maneuvers, in particular, rescuing a ship swept by fire, releasing a captured vessel and firing against targets. The drills are aimed at strengthening the security of international sea routes, fighting piracy and maritime terrorism and exchanging experience, the news agency reported.

Russia’s Pacific Fleet reported on January 18 that the Fleet’s naval group made up of the Guards Order of Nakhimov missile cruiser Varyag, the large anti-submarine warfare ship Admiral Tributs and the large sea tanker Boris Butoma had arrived at the Iranian port of Chabahar for the joint drills of the Russian, Iranian and Chinese navies.

The Pacific Fleet’s naval task force departed from Vladivostok and embarked on its long-distance deployment several days before the new year 2022.

America has big hurtles in front of it

video 5MB

A Short-Term Geopolitical Forecast

9396 Views January 20, 2022 65 Comments

By Dmitry Orlov

Ever since Putin announced his demands for security guarantees from the US and NATO (in brief, stop NATO’s eastward expansion, have NATO retreat to its positions of 1997 and remove offensive weapons from Russia’s immediate vicinity) we have been subjected to a barrage of irrelevancies from Western press:

• Are these security guarantees an ultimatum or a negotiating tool?

• Will the US and NATO agree to them or reject them?

• Will Putin invade the Ukraine or will he be stopped in his tracks through the judicious and timely use of frowning, head-shaking, finger-wagging and tisk-tisking by sundry and assorted Western luminaries?

• If Putin does invade the Ukraine, does this mean that World War III is finally upon us and we shall all surely die?

I hope that I am not alone in being sick and tired of this pathetic, tiresome attempt to throw up a smokescreen and hide the inevitable reality of what is about to unfold. In case it isn’t completely clear to you yet, I would like to spell it all out. I am normally more cautious when making specific predictions, but in this case our immediate future has been carefully plotted out for us by Russia and China, with the US and its assorted puppets reduced to the status of non-playable characters in a video game who can only do one thing: hide behind a dense smokescreen of risible lies.

First, Russian security guarantee demands are not ultimatums. An ultimatum is an “or else” sort of thing, offering a choice between compliance and consequences, whereas in this case both the noncompliance and the consequences will follow automatically. The West and NATO are, for well understood internal political reasons, unable to sign these guarantees; therefore, the consequences will unfold in due course.

Russia has demanded that both the US and NATO put their refusal to agree to the security guarantees in writing; these pieces of paper will be important moving forward. To understand why, we need to take on board the fact that everything within these security guarantees has already been agreed to by the West; namely, the “not an inch to the east” guarantee given to the Russians by the US 30 years ago and the collective security principle agreed to by all members of the OSCE. By signing a document in which they declare their refusal to abide by what they previously agreed to, the US and NATO would essentially declare themselves to be apostates from international law and order. This, in turn, would imply that their own security needs can be disregarded and that instead they deserve to be humiliated and punished.

Further, by putting their refusal in writing, the US and NATO would declare the collective security principle itself—specifically with respect to the US and NATO—to be null and void, meaning that if, for instance, the Bahamas, a sovereign nation since July 10, 1973, decides to reinforce its sovereignty by hosting a Russian missile battery pointed across the Gulf Stream at Miami and Fort Lauderdale, Florida, the US would have no say in the matter, and if the US did try to speak up, they’d get beat up with this very piece of paper they signed. “Do you feel threatened now?” the Russians would ask; “Well, maybe you should have thought of that when you threatened us by putting your missiles in Poland and Romania.”

The initial stated purpose of the two installations of Aegis Ashore in Poland and Romania was to shoot down Iranian missiles, which didn’t exist then, don’t exist now, and never would have taken a giant detour and fly over Poland or Romania in any case. Although the stated purpose of these systems was for missile defense, their launch platforms can also be used to launch offensive strategic weapons: Tomahawk cruise missiles with nuclear payloads. These Tomahawks are obsolete and the Russians know how to shoot them down extremely well (as they demonstrated in Syria) but this is still very annoying, plus seeding the Russian countryside with pulverized American plutonium would not be good for anyone’s health.

Thus, we should expect bad things to happen to these installations, but we should expect to remain rather ill-informed about the details. While the non-negotiations over the Russian security guarantee demands will be as public as possible (in spite of Western plaintive cries asking that they be held in private) the “technical-military means” which Russia will use to deal with Western noncompliance will not be widely publicized. The Romanian installation might become inoperative due to a newly discovered small volcano nearby; the Polish one might succumb of a freak swamp gas explosion.

A further series of unfortunate accidents may cause the US and NATO to become shy and reticent about encroaching on Russia’s borders. NATO troops stationed in the Baltics, a stone’s throw from St. Petersburg, which is Russia’s second-largest city, might complain of repeatedly hearing the word “Thud!” clearly and loudly annunciated, causing them all to be diagnosed with schizophrenia and evacuated. A US spy plane might experience a slight GPS malfunction causing it to blunder into Russian airspace, get shot down, and have its catapulted pilot sentenced to many years of teaching English to kindergarteners in Syktyvkar or Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky. US Navy and NATO vessels, already prone to collisions with each other, underwater mountains and barges, might suffer an unusually large number of such mishaps in proximity to the Russian coastline, causing them to shy away from it. A large number of such events, most out of them transpiring out of sight of the public, news of them suppressed in Western press and social media, would force the mighty US military to confront an uncomfortable existential question: “Are the Russians still afraid of us, or are we just jerking each other off here?” Their response will be to go into denial and to jerk each other off harder and faster than ever before.

But if they are indeed just jerking each other off, then what about their policy of containment? What’s to contain Russia and keep it from recreating USSR 2.0?—other than the fact that the Russians aren’t stupid, learned their lesson the first time around, and Mother Russia will no longer allow a bunch of useless non-Russian ingrates to suckle at her ample bosom. “But when is Russia going to invade the Ukraine?” inquiring minds demand to know, especially those who have been paying attention to Western news sources claiming that Russia has amassed 100090 troops on the Ukrainian border (it hasn’t).

The latest theory is that what is preventing Russia from invading is the warm weather. Apparently, it has been unusually warm since 2014, which is why Russian troops haven’t rolled across the Ukrainian border yet. What have they been waiting for? The next ice age that’s due any millennium now? Instead, Russia just got the bits of the Ukraine it wanted—Crimea, the Donbass and a couple of millions of highly trained Russian-speaking professionals—all without staging an invasion, and is now waiting for the rest of the Ukraine to degenerate into its end state as an ethnic theme park and nature preserve. The only thing that’s not going well with this plan is that the Ukraine needs to be demilitarized, as required by Russia’s recent security guarantee demands.

But what if Russia’s security guarantees aren’t met and US/NATO continue stuffing the Ukraine full of weapons, sending in trainers and establishing bases? Well, then, those will need to be destroyed. This can be done by launching some rockets from small ships sailing around in the Caspian Sea, as was done to destroy ISIS bases in Syria; no ground force invasion needed. It won’t take much to prompt US/NATO to evacuate the Ukraine in a panic, seeing as they have already worked out plans for doing so and have announced that they won’t fight to defend it.

If that’s what unfolds, what do you think will happen next? Will the US start a nuclear war over the Ukraine? Umm… how about “NO!!!” Will the US impose “sanctions from hell”? Perhaps, but you have to understand that at this point in time the US and other Western economies can be accurately caricatured as a crystal vase full of excrement parked on the very edge of a high shelf over a hard marble floor. The hope is that nobody is going to sneeze because the sound pressure might cause it to go over the edge. Sanctions from hell do sound like they could cause a bit of a sneeze. Needless to say, the US will continue to talk about sanctions from hell and maybe even pass some legislation so titled, and claim to have sent “a strong message,” but to no effect.

Will Russia act immediately upon acceptance in writing the West’s refusal to provide it with the requested security guarantees? No, there is bound to be a delay. You see, February 4th is barely two weeks away, and that’s just not enough time to start and finish a military action. What’s on February 4th? Why, the opening ceremony at the Beijing Olympics, of course, at which Putin will be the guest of honor while US dignitaries weren’t even invited.

At the Olympics Putin and Xi will be signing a raft of major agreements, one of which may transform the already very strong relationship between China and Russia into an actual military alliance. The tripartite world order announced by Gen. Milley, in which the US, Russia and China figure as equals, will have lasted all of three months. With Russia and China acting as a unit, the SCO, which by now includes almost all of Eurasia, becomes more than just a geopolitical pole. In comparison, the US and the 29 dwarves of NATO do not quite add up to a geopolitical pole and the world once again becomes unipolar but with the polarity flipped.

And so we should not expect any military action to take place between February 4th and February 20th. Should any military mischief occur during the Olympics, which is traditionally a time of peace in the world, it is sure to be a Western provocation, since the Olympics are a traditional time of Western provocations (Georgia during the Beijing Olympics in 2008; the Ukraine during the Russian Olympics in Sochi in 2014). We can be sure that everyone is very much prepared for this provocation and that it will be dealt with very harshly.

The worst kind of provocation would be if NATO advisers actually succeed in goading the hapless and demoralized Ukrainian troops into invading the Donbass. If that happens, there will be two steps to that operation. The first will involve confusing the Ukrainians into walking into a trap. The second will be to threaten to destroy them using Russian long-range artillery from across the Russian border. When that happened previously, the Ukrainian government in Kiev was forced to sign the Minsk agreements that required the Ukrainian military to pull back and the Kiev government to grant autonomy to the Donbass by amending the Ukraine’s constitution.

But since the government in Kiev has shown no intention of fulfilling the terms of these agreements during the intervening years and instead has done its utmost to sabotage them, there is no reason to expect a new round of Minsk agreements to be signed. Instead, it will be the end of the road for Ukrainian statehood. Putin has promised exactly that. NATO advisers are likely to be frustrated in their efforts to cause the Ukrainians to attack: it is preferable for them to sit there being poked and prodded by their NATO handlers and nagged by US/EU officials and spies than to have their best and brightest obliterated by Russian artillery or to face a final round of national humiliation.

After February 20th, however, we should expect some new and interesting domestic distraction. It could have to do with Western financial house of cards/pyramid scheme finally pancaking, or it could be a fun new virus, or natural gas running out and causing a huge humanitarian emergency. Or it could be a combination of these: the virus can be blamed on China, the gas emergency on Russia, and the financial collapse on both. While everyone is distracted, an aircraft carrier or two might go missing, the Aegis Ashore installation in Poland might get totaled by freak swamp gas explosion and so on and so forth. But then nobody would take notice.

There will still be the major existential question nagging the US military/industrial complex: “Are Russia and China still afraid of us or are we just jerking each other off?” I think I know what answer Russia and China would offer: “Don’t worry about us. Just go on jerking each other off.”

Finally…

End of Part 4

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New Beginnings 3

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Comparison between American subways and Chinese subways

This article reproduces a very interesting discussion by an expat living in China named Jason. He, like MM here, is married to a Chinese woman and has a young child. He lives in a fifth-tier city in the hinterland, sort of like MM does, and he relates his experiences on you-tube for the world to see.

As a result, he has come under attack by both the BBC and CNN with their famous “gray filter” making his videos of bright and shiny China look gray and dingy.

In this series of videos, he compares the top American subway system in the top American city (New York City) with that of his fifth-tier “backwards” Chinese smaller city located in the middle of nowhere. It’s a great series. Reproduced in full and all credit to him, his wife and his child for providing it to us to view.

Video 1

He starts off going through the local Chinese subway stations, and the subway trains. It’s very interesting. Video 125MB

Video 2

Now, Jason finishes up in the Chinese subways and starts filming the New York Subway system. Amazing. video 86MB

The Complaints

I have noticed (since I posted this on LinkedIN) that many people defend the squalor in New York City. They say things like “China’s subways are new, while that of New York are old”. They argue that the comparison just “isn’t fair”.

The idea and the implication are simple. The argument is that you just shouldn’t compare new and old. You have to use the same metric.

Well, the metric is the same.

It actually is.

They are both subways, and they are maintained and operated within their own individual cultures. What the difference is between the different societies and the different governments.

Society

China = Social, family and community oriented.
United States = Individual, selfish, self-centered.

Government

China = merit based, and policed against corruption.
United States = Rampant corruption at all levels, oligarchy run.

Now, as far as the argument goes that the New York Subway system is old, it is a lame excuse. Yeah.

Well, so are the subways in Moscow.

They are old too.

But they are not in the same kind of disrepair as what we see inside of America. It has to do with funding maintenance, and a society of people who care about their surroundings.

Here’s the old subway system in Moscow.

And here is the old subway in Tehran, Iran…

And so, let’s also look at the old subway in North Korea.

North Korea’s marble-clad subway isn’t the image that might first spring to mind when thinking about a commute in North Korea. Taking the trip on the subway in Pyongyang comes cheap, and a ticket can cost just 5 Won ($0.004 USD).

Why is the United States infrastructure so decrepit?

Why?

You ask, why?

(MM turns and spits on the ground.)

Because the wealthy oligarchy has hoarded all the money for themselves, and left nothing for the rest of us. Did you know that New York City is the home for most of the billionaires in the United States.

Yeah.

Money to burn.

Not for you.

What can be done?

The primary difference between the United States and China can boil down to two factors.

The Society
The Government

I do not advocate changing one’s society. If anything, I advise in strengthening it along traditional values and belief systems. Not changing it, and certainly not through massive programs of social reengineering.

That only leaves the way the government operates.

So, it is obvious that the United States form of government must change, the funding priorities must change, the control of society must change, and the financial arrangements must change as well as the type and extent of corruption.

… If the United States is to catch up with the rest of the world, that is galloping ahead full speed.

All must change…

…if America and its people want to catch up with the rest of the world. And live life in calm peace, traditions, and participate in meaningful roles within society.

If not…

…well, expect more of the same, only much worse.

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Russian commentaries on the collapsing United States (with some MM commentary as well) 3 of 3

This is part three of a three part series.

We pick up with the final comments on part two…

Russia is well-prepared for an all-out war with the west because they know that the American empire will not quit until they submit to Washington’s demands.  

Russia is ready, they learned a long-time ago when they were the former Soviet Union during World War II when more than 27 million Russian civilians and soldiers lost their lives fighting Nazi Germany within their borders.  

Washington is backing Ukraine’s aggressive behavior which will bring them closer to war with Russia.  

Although I believe cooler heads will prevail, anything at this point in time can happen with an out of control empire worried about losing their control over the planet.  

The US has its back against the wall, the question is what will they do knowing that Russia and China have the military capabilities including their new hypersonic missiles that can hit the US mainland at anytime.

The US-NATO forces would not prevail on a multi-front war with Russia and China, they should have learned a lesson in Afghanistan with the Taliban who had by far, a less-developed fighting force than Russia or China but had managed to defeat US-NATO forces after 20 years of conflict.  Washington and the Pentagon knows deep down that defeating Russia, China and the rest of their adversaries will be a difficult mission, but it seems that the psychopaths in Washington and Brussels live in a fantasy land and believe they can win this coming war.  

Let’s hope it don’t get that far because it would be disastrous for the entire world.

Pretty heavy stuff. It makes me think of food.

Good hearty and delicious foods, especially soups. Like a nice thick creamy soup. Maybe a cream of asparagus, or cream of broccoli. Don’t you know.

Ok. Let’s continue…

Ukraine, Syria, Afghanistan, Russia sanctions – “All of these harebrained schemes, hatched in Washington, have backfired grandly.”

“Those who have pushed for them are now reduced to just two face-saving maneuvers: blaming their political opponents; and blaming Russia. And these two maneuvers are set to backfire as well.”

This article from our archives was first published on RI in November 2017

Dmitry Orlov Fri, Nov 26 2021 | 1610 words 49,485

Back in the days when I was still trying to do the corporate thing, I regularly found myself in a bit of a tight spot simply by failing to keep my mouth shut.

I seem to carry some sort of gene that makes me naturally irrepressible. I can keep my mouth shut for only so long before I have to blurt out what I really think, and in a corporate setting, where thinking isn’t really allowed, this causes no end of trouble. It didn’t matter that I often turned out to be right. It didn’t matter what I thought; it only mattered that I thought.

American involvement in the middle-eastern project is now limited to Putin’s sporadic courtesy calls to Trump, to keep him updated.

Of all the thoughts you aren’t allowed to think, perhaps the most offensive one is adequately expressed by a single short phrase: “That’s not gonna work.”

The end is near …

Suppose there is a meeting to unveil a great new initiative, with PowerPoint presentations complete with fancy graphics, org charts, timelines, proposed budgets, yadda-yadda, and everything is going great until this curmudgeonly Russian opens his mouth and says “That’s not gonna work.”

And when it is patiently explained to him (doing one’s best to hide one’s extreme irritation) that it absolutely has to work because Senior Management would like it to, that furthermore it is his job to make it work and that failure is not an option, he opens his mouth again and says “That’s not gonna work either.” And then it’s time to avoid acting flustered while ignoring him and to think up some face-saving excuse to adjourn the meeting early and regroup.

I lasted for as long as I did in that world because once in a while I would instead say “Sure, that’ll work, let’s do it.” And then, sure enough, it did work, the company had a banner year or two, with lots of bonuses and atta-boy (and atta-girl) certificates handed out to those not at all responsible for any of it. Flushed with victory, they, in turn, would think up more harebrained schemes for me to rain on, and the cycle would repeat.

America seems to be blissfully unaware of how it comes across to the rest of the world

It is probably one of the main saving graces of corporations that they do sometimes (mainly by mistake) allow some thought to leak through. The mistake in question is a staffing error in promoting those constitutionally incapable of keeping their mouths shut or shutting off their brains. Such errors create chinks in the monolithic phalanxes of corporate yes-men and yes-women.

Trump is too old to be a reformer or a revolutionary. He is of an age when men are generally mostly concerned about the quantity and consistency of their stool and how it interacts with their enlarged prostates.

The likelihood of such mistakes increases with the agony of defeat, which causes attrition among the ranks of qualified yes-sayers, creating holes that can only be plugged by promoting a few non-yes-sayers. However, this only seems to work in the smaller, hungrier corporations; the larger, better-fed ones seem to be able to avoid experiencing the agony of defeat for a very long time by moving the goal posts, outlawing any discussion of said defeat or other similar tactics. Eventually the entire organization goes over the cliff, but by then it is of no benefit to anyone to attempt to inform them of their folly.

It is much the same with governments, except here the situation is even worse. While the smaller, hungrier governments, and those blessed with a fresh institutional memory of extreme pain, do not have the luxury of lying to themselves, the larger political agglomerations—the USSR, the EU, the USA—have the ability to keep themselves completely immunized against the truth for historically significant periods of time.

The USSR clung to the fiction of great socialist progress even when it was clear to all that the cupboard was bare and there were rats gnawing through the rafters. The EU has been able to ignore the fact that its entire scheme is one of enriching Germany while impoverishing and depopulating eastern and southern Europe, neglecting the interests of the native populations throughout. And the amount of self-delusion that is still currently in effect in the USA makes it a rather large subject.

Regardless of how great the lies are and how forcefully they are defended, a moment always comes when the phalanx of truth-blocking yes-men and yes-women stops marching, turns and runs. This event results in a tremendous loss of face and confidence for all involved.

It is the crisis of confidence, more than anything else, that precipitates the going-off-a-cliff phenomenon that we could so readily observe in the collapse of the USSR in the early 1990s. I have a very strong hunch that similar cliff-diving exercises are coming up for the EU and the USA.

But for the time being I am just another disembodied voice on the internet, watching from the sidelines and periodically saying the unfashionable thing, which is: “This isn’t gonna work.” However, I’ve said this a number of times over the years, on the record and more or less forcefully, and I feel vindicated most of the time.

Internationally, for example:

• Carving the Ukraine away from Russia, having it join the EU and NATO and building a NATO naval base in Crimea “wasn’t gonna work.” The Ukraine is a part of Russia, the Ukrainians are Russian, and the Ukrainian ethnic identity is a Bolshevik concoction. Look for a reversion to norm in a decade or two.

• Destroying and partitioning Syria with the help of Wahhabi extremists and foreign mercenaries supported by the US, Saudi Arabia and Israel while Russia, Iran, Turkey and China stand idly by “wasn’t gonna work”; and so it hasn’t.

• Giving Afghanistan “freedom and democracy” and turning it into a stable pro-Western regime with the help of invading NATO troops “wasn’t gonna work,” and hasn’t. Western involvement in Afghanistan can go on, but the results it can achieve are limited to further enhancing the heroin trade.

• Destroying the Russian economy using sanctions “wasn’t gonna work,” and hasn’t. The sanctions have helped Russia regroup internally and achieve a great deal of self-sufficiency in energy production and other forms of technology, in food and in numerous other sectors.

All of these harebrained schemes, hatched in Washington, have backfired grandly. Those who have pushed for them are now reduced to just two face-saving maneuvers: blaming their political opponents; and blaming Russia. And these two maneuvers are set to backfire as well.

In the meantime, the world isn’t waiting for the US to shake itself out of its stupor.

The fulcrum of American influence in the Middle East is Saudi Arabia and the petrodollar. In turn, Saudi Arabia rests on three pillars: the Saudi monarchy, Wahhabi Islam and the petrodollar. As I write this, the next king, Mohammed bin Salman, is busy hacking away at all three: robbing, imprisoning and torturing his fellow-princes, working to replace the Wahhabi clerics with moderate ones and embracing the petro-yuan instead of the now very tired petrodollar.

Not that any of these three pillars were in good shape in any case: the defeat of ISIS in Syria was a defeat for the Saudi monarchy which supported it, for the Wahhabi clerics who inspired it and, consequently, for the petrodollar as well, because Saudi Arabia was until now its greatest defender.

The new guarantors of peace in the region are Russia, Iran and Turkey, with China watching carefully in the wings. American involvement in the middle-eastern project is now limited to Putin’s sporadic courtesy calls to Trump, to keep him updated.

And so here’s my latest prediction: Trump’s goal of “making America great” “isn’t gonna work” either.

The country is so far gone that just taking the first step—of allowing the truth of its condition to leak through the media filters—will undermine public confidence to such an extent that a subsequent cliff-dive will become unavoidable. It’s a nice slogan as slogans go, but Trump is too old to be a reformer or a revolutionary. He is of an age when men are generally mostly concerned about the quantity and consistency of their stool and how it interacts with their enlarged prostates.

Perhaps he will succeed in making America great… big piles of feces, but I wouldn’t expect much more than that.

“You see, ideology is a product of intellectuals, and intellectuals tend to be idiots, … We are born equipped with MonkeyBrain 2.0 that can handle abstraction only too well but always fails when attempting to reconcile it with messy physical reality.”

“And so it would be a grave error to think that, just because communist ideology is idiotic, capitalist ideology is any less so.”

This article from our archives was first published on RI in November 2017

Dmitry Orlov Thu, Dec 2 2021 | 1440 words 30,747

Today is the 100th anniversary of the Russian Revolution of 1917. It caused a lot of death and destruction, which I won’t go into because you can read all about it elsewhere. It also caused a great outpouring of new art, literature, architecture and culture in general, putting the previously somewhat stodgy Russia securely in the world’s avant-garde.

It also resulted in a tremendous surge of industrialization, rapidly transforming a previously mostly agrarian, though gradually industrializing nation into a global industrial powerhouse (at great human cost). But perhaps most importantly, the revolution destroyed all of the previously dominant institutions of privilege based on heredity, class and wealth and replaced them with an egalitarian social model centered on the working class.

And it demonstrated (as much through propaganda as by actual example) how this new model was more competitive: while the West wallowed in the Great Depression, the USSR surged ahead both economically and socially.

For all of its many failings, the USSR did serve as a shining city on the hill to the downtrodden millions around the world, including in the USA, fermenting rebellion, so that even there the one-percent ownership class eventually had to stop and think.

Reluctantly, they decided to stop trying to destroy organized labor movements, introduced state old-age pensions (misnamed “Social Security”) and declared a euphemistic “war on poverty.” And with that a “middle class” was created—so called because it was literally in the middle, having risen out of poverty but still safely walled off from the one-percent ownership class. But as we shall see this effect was temporary.

Eventually the USSR evaporated, as artificial, synthetic political entities often do. The reasons for this disappearing act are too numerous to mention, but one of the main ones was that the Soviet political elite turned itself into a much-hated, privileged caste, and then failed to reproduce, turning into a moribund gerontocracy.

When the old cadres finally started dying out, the new generation that came in included plenty of traitors who did their best to destroy the system and grab a piece for themselves. This effect was plain to see, but was it the root cause? When a complex system collapses, every part of it is touched to one extent or another, and it becomes impossible to say which one played the key role in precipitating the collapse.

With the USSR gone, the owners of the USA had no one to compete against and were no longer under any sort of pressure to maintain the illusion of an equitable and egalitarian society. Instead, they concentrated on two projects, one ideological, the other economic.

The ideological project involved wrecking what was left of the USSR to the greatest extent possible in order to paint a convincing picture of the horrible consequences of communism or socialism and to herd everyone toward wholeheartedly embracing unfettered capitalism. The economic project involved eviscerating the American middle class—a process that by now has largely run its course.

Since the creation of the middle class was a multigenerational project, so is its destruction. But the effects of this process on society are already plain to see: there is an overhang of still relatively well-off retirees while their children and grandchildren have greatly diminished economic and social prospects.

Meanwhile, the hastily erected scaffolding that created the appearance of egalitarianism has been knocked out. Organized labor is all but finished. Borders have been thrown open to foreign labor and cheap imports.

Entry into the middle class has been blocked through a variety of measures including the relentless dumbing down of public education, the equally relentless overpricing of higher education, the health care extortion scheme, the rationing of justice based on wealth and privilege, wealth confiscation using a succession of artificial real estate market bubbles and so on.

Overall, the former middle class is being whittled down to nothing the same way that the Chinese “coolies” were dealt with once the railroads had been built: don’t feed them much but give them plenty of opium (now being grown in Afghanistan under the watchful eye of Western troops). To sum it up: if you aren’t happy with the way things are going in the US, you have a choice.

You can of course blame Russia—for getting rid of the USSR. Or you can blame your owners—your one percent—who have owned you ever since the King of England appointed the Lords Proprietors.

Within Russia itself the commemoration of the October Revolution is no longer a public holiday. But there was a sort of commemoration held on the vast Palace Square in St. Petersburg, which I attended with my five-year-old son on my shoulders. It was his first time in a crowd of 35,000, and he was duly impressed. It was a light-and-sound extravaganza consisting of two shows which played in alternation.

On the vast semicircular facade of the General Staff building was broadcast a multimedia retrospective of the October Revolution that included the reading of historical documents (such as the abdication of Nicholas II) and works of poetry. It ended on an upbeat note—yes, many horrible events took place, but Russia is now reborn—with the General Staff’s façade painted in the Russian tricolor.

After the show, as we filtered out of the Palace Square and walked home along the Palace Embankment, my five-year-old son asked some good questions that he had formulated while watching the show. “Did a lot of people die?” (Yes.) “But Russia was then and is now?” (Yes, Russia has been around for a 1000 years and will probably be around for 1000 years more.) “Why do people have to die?” (Because otherwise we we would be full-up with useless old people and there wouldn’t be enough room for young people.) And then the obvious follow-up: “Why are we full-up with useless old people anyway?” (???) And finally: “Why do we bury dead people?” (Because they smell really bad.) “Ah…” A rather unsentimental youth, wouldn’t you say? But he was only one of the thousands of quite similar-minded ones who were in attendance that day, riding on their fathers’ shoulders or marching along. Welcome to Russia…One of the reasons why the USSR failed was because the idiocy of the ideology of Soviet communism became too painful to tolerate. In a sense, this was inevitable. You see, ideology is a product of intellectuals, and intellectuals tend to be idiots, making “intellectual idiocy” something of an oxymoron. We are born equipped with MonkeyBrain 2.0 that can handle abstraction only too well but always fails when attempting to reconcile it with messy physical reality. And so it would be a grave error to think that, just because communist ideology is idiotic, capitalist ideology is any less so.

By now most thinking people realize that capitalism has failed just has communism had. We can only hope that one day the US will do with its capitalist legacy what Russia has done with its communist one: turn it into a festive art installation that both children and adults can enjoy.

Two reasons: complexity, and too much money

This article from our archives was first published on RI in April 2018

Jacob Dreizin Fri, Nov 26 2021 | 2300 words 58,656

The F-35: Insanely expensive, its costs keep soaring – and it’s worse than Russian planes which cost 20 times less.
.

Lately we have seen some good analysis on the limits and vulnerabilities of the American military in light of events in the former Ukraine and especially Russia’s demonstrated competence in Syria.

So we have the “what” of the issue, but how about the “why”?

As a U.S. Army veteran and a longtime resident of the Beltway—including four-and-a-half years living on Crystal Drive in Arlington, Virginia, which has probably the densest concentration of “defense” contractors anywhere in America—I think I understand what is fundamentally wrong with the U.S. military-industrial complex (MIC.)

First and foremost, the MIC has long been incapable of producing durable, efficient, versatile weapons.

We don’t even have to look to the F-35 on this one.

(America’s latest fighter which has turned into a spectacular technical failure and massive ($1.5 trillion!) expense – see our super-popular article about how this plane stacks up against the Russian competition- edit)

Just consider the most basic item, the M-16.

The M-16 Assault Rifle

My field experience with this piece of junk is that it runs into problems in the presence of even a small amount of sand. When enough sand gets in to the chamber and mixes with the lube oil on the bolt assembly, the grit thus formed results in up to every second round misloading.

God forbid you should brush an oiled open breach against the side of your foxhole—you are out of commission. In the absence of air or artillery support or sheer overwhelming numbers on your side, you are dead meat against anyone with a gun that functions in a sandy environment. And why? Because, as I was told in boot camp (whether it’s true or not), this thing is perfectly built to have zero fault tolerance.

Supposedly, just about every metal component in the M-16 is cast and/or machined to perfection rather than stamped. Contrast this with Russian or Chinese weapons that are said to be built like can openers to spray lead under any conditions. In other words, the M-16 is so sophisticated that it doesn’t work well.

It is now acknowledged that the M-16 with its 5.56mm rounds is insufficiently lethal beyond a couple of hundred meters, making it unsuited to long-distance firefights over open terrain (again those deserts, or perhaps shootouts between mountain ridges.)

The M-1 Abrams tank

Another great example – this can be a real dog. The engine is a gas turbine, like with an aircraft, except that it is being driven around in deserts and even sandstorms, making it extremely finicky and high-maintenance. (Would you fly your Boeing into a sandstorm?) Of course, the Abrams was designed to fight in Germany where sand is not an issue. But during the Iraq adventure, sand so tore up the turbine fans (or whatever) that over 1000 of these million-dollar “power packs” had to be removed and sent up for depot-level maintenance or refurbishment stateside.

Yes, that’s right—these things cannot even be fixed in the field. All you can do is pull them out with a crane and ship them back to the civilians at enormous expense. At the height of the Iraq adventure, around 2007, the maintenance backlog was so bad that even the national media got wind of it.

Of course, when you have the world’s reserve currency, you can afford all that and more—the entire world is paying for your wars.

But the waste and inefficiency are a fact.

The Basic Problem : Excessive Complexity

I think the problem here is that American war planners and logisticians prefer originality, complexity, and/or expense-for-the-hell-of-it over versatility and ease of use and maintenance. This is no surprise given America’s wealth and the longtime generous funding of its armed forces. After all, every military reflects its own society.

Unfortunately for Uncle Sam, what he gets is equipment that may work very well in one environment but not another.

But so much for American equipment per se. Let’s talk about Crystal Drive (a neighborhood in suburban Washington where many defense contractors have offices – edit.) —or more broadly, the MIC.

The Military Industrial Complex (MIC) is failing on a massive scale

It is clear now that the MIC cannot build anything for less than 200 percent of its original planned budget (and that’s being extremely conservative.) Nor can anything it cranks out nowadays meet performance or survivability expectations. Besides the never-ending supersonic train wreck known as the F-35, we have other boondoggle failures such as the Littoral Combat Ship, which by all accounts is less capable and more vulnerable than the 20 to 30 year-old vessels it was supposed to replace.

Or, going back a few years, we see the Army’s “Commanche” helicopter, an intended replacement for the Apache, which blew through $6.9 billion—in 1983-2004 dollars, probably over $10 billion today—before the entire program was scrapped. That’s right, over $10 billion for nothing—not one Commanche was ever delivered for permanent use to an Army operational unit!

Where did that money go, if they didn’t actually manufacture anything besides a few prototypes? Did they spend $10 billion on PowerPoint presentations?

My brain cannot even wrap around this. Can you imagine what Russia or China could do for $10 billion?

However, even that pales before the Army’s cancelled Future Combat Systems program, which burned through an estimated (no one knows exactly) $20 billion from 2003 to somewhere between 2012 and 2014 (depending on what termination milestone you go by), with almost nothing to show beyond a few prototypes, a lot of concept art, and a 29-pound toy robot made by iRobot of “Roomba” vacuum cleaner fame. In fact, I can’t think of one big new U.S. weapons system that has succeeded in the last 25 years, other than perhaps the Stryker armored car (though some have argued that point, and I just don’t know enough about it.)

As pointed out by many other observers, part of the blame lies with our political system, where MIC corporations buy politicians and then receive favors in the form of contracts, whether or not the contracts make any sense. However, I think this is not the only problem, nor even necessarily the biggest.

Fundamentally what I think we have is systemic over-complexity resulting in nothing getting done, or done well anyway.

US intelligence agencies have the same problem

This is akin to the deep systemic crisis in Uncle Sam’s intelligence agencies, where from 9/11 to the Arab Spring to Crimea to the ISIS conquest of Mosul to Russia in Syria, the word is always “we didn’t expect…” In this case, we have numerous agencies—some of them with overlapping functions—that are drowning in paperwork and garbage data (or too much data) and are almost totally useless.

As some readers will remember, it got so bad that in April 2014 the State Department released a photo collage aiming to prove that (among other things) a bearded Chechen battalion commander going by the name Hamza, who appeared in Russian TV footage of the 2008 Olympic War, was none other than the bearded, overweight Slaviansk militiaman going by the call-sign “Babai”—in other words, Russian special forces have invaded the Donbass. (The New York Times ran with this and was then oh-so-vaguely and gently reproached by its own ombudsman.)

Shouldn’t this awful joke have been prevented by the Office of the Director of National Intelligence, which is supposed to promote info-sharing among agencies and centrally vet all claims and conclusions—especially those being trumpeted on the State Department’s website or at its briefings? Apparently not!

Bureaucratic bloat

On the other hand, what the U.S. lack-of-intelligence complex is very good at—besides hiring way too many buxom, flirty young things straight out of college and with no language skills or any experience at all (DIA and NGA, you know your ex-military managers like to beautify their offices)—is providing employment for tens of thousands of its own staff as well as tens of thousands of grotesquely-overpaid contractors, including those who build and run billion-dollar eavesdropping centers that have proven incapable of picking up anything useful, perhaps because when you try to listen to everything, you end up hearing nothing.

The lesson here is that the more offices and agencies, the more managers and political appointees who will seek to justify and expand their turf and budgets by shoveling out as much money on as many contracts as possible, as quickly as possible, in many cases even paying contractors to do little more than just sit around (sometimes at home) waiting for the next contract. (I have seen this many times in Washington.)

Then you get so big that people simply trip over each other and the left hand doesn’t know what the right hand is doing.

The US MIC worked great 50 years ago because less money and people were involved

So I think this is what’s going on not only in the intelligence apparatus, but in the MIC as a whole. We have hundreds of thousands of staff and contractors as well as military officers assigned to liaise with them, all kinds of project managers and “six-sigma black belts” and other buzzwords, juggling millions of PowerPoints across the river from Washington and throughout the country, and they can’t field a helicopter after spending $10 billion on it.

Really? How did this great country ever defeat the Japanese Empire?

Go to the National Air and Space Museum in Washington; you will see the most amazing things—e.g. generators designed to operate on the surface of the Moon, drawing electricity from the heat of plutonium decay—that were developed when there was no Crystal Drive, no Tysons Corner, etc.

Then go to the museum’s extension near Dulles airport and check out the SR-71 “Blackbird”, the fastest and highest-flying airplane ever built (this was about 50 years ago.)

How did they do it?

Although there were more men in uniform back then, the MIC itself (or should I say the Military-Industrial-Intelligence-Homeland-Insecurity-Complex (MIIHIC)) – had but a fraction of today’s civilian workforce. Luckily, most of those paper-pushing “systems integrators” and PowerPoint rangers did not exist. Blueprints were drafted with pencil and paper.

Today, Uncle Sam can’t even build a heavy rocket engine, not to mention a good helmet or ejection seat for his F-35.

No hope for change going forward

So it seems that as a technical civilization we are degenerating.

Sure, there are constant advancements in microelectronics (a.k.a. integrated circuits) and the programs they allow, but in terms of heavy engineering—of which the MIIHIC and other government initiatives like the space program were at the forefront since WWII—it seems that the U.S. is tapped out.

And you know what? Throwing more money at it is just going to make it worse.

The organizations with their budgets and their perfectly reasonable-sounding arguments for ever-greater budgets will grow, their workforces will grow, the contracting sector will grow, more shiny office buildings will go up, but the result will be an ever-increasingly-negative marginal return.

John McCain and all the other broken records in and out of the Pentagon will say we still don’t have enough funds to counter a pointless Russian invasion of parasitic, inconsequential Lithuania (currently headed by a longtime communist) or any other 1990s-era speculative wargame training scenario that somehow carried over into the public consciousness and morphed into the Greatest Threat to World Peace.

Of course, as long as the U.S. has the money to send gazillion-dollar armies and armadas against illiterate natives armed with sharp sticks and coconuts, this may not visibly threaten its hegemony. Almost any problem or mistake can be papered over with money, for a long time anyway.

But eventually, even if the money spigot does not constrict, we will get to the point where the military really can’t be used as anything more than a façade or a gunboat road-show, hoping no one calls the bluff, because the stuff just doesn’t work like it’s supposed to, or else is too vulnerable (witness the evacuation of the U.S. aircraft carrier from the Persian Gulf after Uncle Sam found out that Russia has cruise missiles with a range of at least 1500km, or the ridiculous sail-around of China’s little islands which had the sense to infringe only very slightly and briefly on that country’s imaginary territorial waters), or the natives can devise their own countermeasures.

In fact, I would say we are at that point already. Not to mention, the U.S. Army and the Department of Veterans Affairs are still so tapped-out after Iraq and Afghanistan that another major ground operation is unthinkable. (At this point, Washington is more likely to launch nukes at somebody than risk another ground war.)

So you can anticipate a lot of hand-wringing and a lot more money being thrown into the breach. That’s simply what the machine does; there is no chance to reform it, nor will the Hegemony dissipate willingly (although lately it’s done a good job of dissipating unwillingly.)

But all that money may as well be flushed down the can.

The threshold has been reached and it’s all downhill from here.

If you find yourself in Russia, you will have to drink with Russians, one way or another. Follow this handy guide for advice on how to survive the experience

This article from our archives was first published on RI in October 2016

Vitaly Zubtsov (RBTH) Fri, Nov 5 2021 | 800 words 4,711

Contrary to popular belief, Russians are not alcoholics, and they do not drink just for the sake of doing so. However, Russians are happy to raise a glass to practically any occasion — a new job, a new car, Friday…but especially for a wedding.

As a rule, you have time to prepare for a bender, but sometimes trouble sneaks up on you. Say you get home from work on a Tuesday night having met a friend you had not seen for a long time in the subway. Isn’t this a significant event?

Always be on the alert. There will likely be times when you will have to drink on a weekday evening or in the middle of the night. And definitely on Friday. And most likely on Wednesday: because everybody in Russia knows that Wednesday is a little Friday.

Russians drink other things besides vodka. But of course they do drink vodka. You should be aware that a Russian party is structured differently from parties in other parts of the world.

First, the alcohol is usually bought by the host. This solves two problems at once: at first the guests do not have to know that they will have to drink and then they do not have to regret that they were unable to switch to something else after wine ran out because they did not bring it. The table full of drinks is for all, so drink whatever you want. Just do not overdo it.

Brush up on your knowledge of all key events in world history, religion, politics, sports and arts, and make sure to form an opinion on all current issues, whether or not they seem important to you.

First off, when drinking, Russians are sure to start a conversation about lofty matters. If you do not take part in these discussions, you will run the risk of simply falling asleep at the table – or drinking more to avoid having to talk. Secondly, such knowledge is simply useful. Do not be afraid of expressing your opinion. All conversations and disagreements that take place while drinking will not be held against you — no one will remember them in the morning.

Around 11 p.m., there is unprecedented level of activity in Moscow supermarkets and convenience stores. In Russia, there is a law that says alcoholic beverages cannot be sold later than a certain time, although the time varies. In Moscow, it is 11 p.m., while in St. Petersburg, it is 10 p.m.

Russians like to make lengthy toasts. Of course, the toast depends on the circumstances, but the more solemn and important the event, the longer the toast. It is customary to take a glass in your hand at the beginning of the speech and not lower it until the speaker has finished. You should train yourself to keep your hand raised for a long time. After the toast, you must clink your glass against the glasses of all those present at the table. If you are a single girl, keep in mind that an old Russian superstition holds that the last person you clink glasses with should be an unmarried man – then you will marry soon.

In the West, it is perfectly fine to take a drink and put a half-full glass back on the table before you take another drink. In Russia, however, you have to drink everything in the glass at once, otherwise people will think that you disagree with a person who delivered the toast — for which he likely rehearsed for a week before the event.

The toast “Na zdorovye!” or “to your health,” which foreigners for some reason consider to be the most popular and appropriate toast to make in Russia, is not used by anyone. Ever.

To really prepare for drinking with Russians, watch the classic Soviet film “The Irony of Fate, or Enjoy Your Bath.” This movie is always shown on New Year’s Eve, and everyone knows it. Even if you watch it before your visit, you are likely to have to watch it again. But besides being a classic Soviet movie everyone should know and the source of 95 percent of the references made by your Russian friends, it shows clearly how not to drink — and what can happen to you if your visit to a banya with your friends goes wrong.

To drink with Russians is an art and, like any other, you will not be able to master it at once. But you will never be bored drinking with Russians, and if you can endure the first few times, you may even grow to like this process. Probably you will. And, upon returning home, you will look differently at the wildest parties thrown by your friends, thinking to yourself “That’s nothing; in Russia, they call it ‘propustit po stakanchiku’ (to grab a drink).”

Rufus bartender saves a girl from getting a roofie. video 11MB

China military are motivated, well trained and use state of the art equipment. video 7MB

The BRI is about helping the Chinese people domestically. video 5MB

“Foreign malcontents can never be successfully integrated into a civilized society because they don’t even intend to try; they intend to conquer their host instead. … we have a much harder row to hoe than Old Europe because our own “invaders” are well entrenched and have been for decades, all the way up to the highest levels of government.”

This article from our archives was first published on RI in October 2018

John Freeman Sun, Oct 31 2021 | 1000 words 15,002

We’re getting close to the end now. Can you feel it? I do.

It’s in the news, on the streets, and in your face every day. You can’t tune it out anymore, even if you wanted to.

Where once there was civil debate in the court of public opinion, we now have censorship, monopoly, screaming, insults, demonization, and, finally, the use of force to silence the opposition. There is no turning back now. The political extremes are going to war, and you will be dragged into it even if you consider yourself apolitical.

There are great pivot points in history, and we’ve arrived at one. The United States, ruptured by a thousand grievance groups, torn by shadowy agencies drunk on a gross excess of power, robbed blind by oligarchs and their treasonous henchmen and decimated by frivolous wars of choice, has finally come to a point where the end begins in earnest.

The center isn’t holding… indeed, finding a center is no longer even conceivable. We are the schizophrenic nation, bound by no societal norms, constrained by no religion, with no shared sense of history, myth, language, art, philosophy, music, or culture, rushing toward an uncertain future fueled by nothing more than easy money, hubris, and sheer momentum.

There comes a time when hard choices must be made…when it is no longer possible to remain aloof or amused, because the barbarians have arrived at the gate. Indeed, they are here now, and they often look a whole lot like deracinated, conflicted, yet bellicose fellow Americans, certain of only one thing, and that is that they possess “rights”, even though they could scarcely form an intelligible sentence explaining exactly what those rights secure or how they came into being.

But that isn’t necessary, from their point of view, you see. All they need is a “voice” and membership in an approved victim class to enrich themselves at someone else’s expense. If you are thinking to yourself right now that this does not describe you, then guess what? The joke’s on you, and you are going to be expected to pay the bill…that “someone else” is you.

In reality, though, who can blame the minions, when the elites have their hand in the till as well? In fact, they are even more hostile to reasoned discourse than Black Lives Matter, Occupy Wall Street, or Antifa. Witness the complete meltdown of the privileged classes when President Trump mildly suggested that perhaps our “intelligence community” isn’t to be trusted, which is after all a fairly sober assessment when one considers the track record of the CIA, FBI, NSA, BATF, and the other assorted Stasi agencies.

Burning cop cars or bum-rushing the odd Trump supporter seems kind of tame in comparison to the weeping and gnashing of teeth when that hoary old MIC “intelligence” vampire was dragged screaming into the light. Yet Trump did not drive a stake into its heart, nor at this point likely can anyone…and that is exactly the point. We are now Thelma and Louise writ large.

We are on cruise control, happily speeding towards the cliff, and few seem to notice that our not so distant future involves bankruptcy, totalitarianism, and/or nuclear annihilation. Even though most of us couldn’t identify the band, we nonetheless surely live the lyrics of the Grass Roots: “Live for today, and don’t worry about tomorrow.”

The “Defense” Department, “Homeland” Security, big pharma, big oil, big education, civil rights groups, blacks, Indians, Jews, the Deep State, government workers, labor unions, Neocons, Populists, fundamentalist Christians, atheists, pro life and pro death advocates, environmentalists, lawyers, homosexuals, women, Millenials, Baby Boomers, blue collar/white collar, illegal aliens…the list goes on and on, but the point is that the conflicting agendas of these disparate groups have been irreconcilable for some time.

The difference today is that we are de facto at war with each other, and whether it is a war of words or of actual combat doesn’t matter at the moment. What matters is that we no longer communicate, and when that happens it is easy to demonize the other side. Violence is never far behind ignorance.

I am writing this from the bar at the Intercontinental Hotel in Vienna, Austria. I have seen with my own eyes the inundation of Europe with an influx of hostile aliens bent on the destruction of Old Christendom, yet I have some hope for the eastern European countries because they have finally recognized the threat and are working to neutralize it.

Foreign malcontents can never be successfully integrated into a civilized society because they don’t even intend to try; they intend to conquer their host instead. Yet even though our own discontents are domestic for the most part, we have a much harder row to hoe than Old Europe because our own “invaders” are well entrenched and have been for decades, all the way up to the highest levels of government.

That there are signs Austria is finally waking up is a good thing, but it serves to illustrate the folly of expecting the hostile cultures within our own country to get along with each other without rupturing the republic. Indeed, that republic died long ago, and it has been replaced by a metastasizing mass of amorphous humanity called the American Empire, and it is at war with itself and consuming itself from within.

Long ago, we once knew that as American citizens each of us had a great responsibility. We were expected to work hard, play fair, do unto others as we would have them do unto us, and serve our country when called upon to do so. Today, we don’t speak of duty, except in so much as a slogan to promote war, but we certainly do speak of benefits for ourselves and our “group” of entitled peeps. We will fail because of our greed and avarice.

The United States of Empire has become quite simply too big, too diverse, and too “exceptional” to survive.

Video Interlude…

Rufus saves a lost little girl and reunites her with her parents. video 6MB

A beautiful Chinese girl. video 4MB

Western democracies are ONLY for rich people and corporations. They have and provide very little benefit to the work man, or the citizenry. That’s just the way things are. video 4MB

“This homework assignment should be given to the Democratic members of congress, since they are otherwise preoccupied only with hunting for Russian gremlins and discovering new sexual abnormalities to protect and defend.”

This article from our archives was first published on RI in September 2017

James Howard Kunstler Tue, Oct 26 2021 | 900 words 22,447

Poor old Karl Marx, tortured by boils and phantoms, was right about one thing: History repeats itself, first as tragedy, second as farce. Thus, I give you the Roman Empire and now the United States of America. Rome surrendered to time and entropy. Our method is to drive a gigantic clown car into a ditch.

Is anyone out there interested in redemption? I have an idea for the political party out of power, the Democrats, sunk in its special Okefenokee Swamp of identity politics and Russia paranoia: make an effort to legislate the Citizens United calamity out of existence. Who knows, a handful of Republicans may be shamed into going along with it. For those of you who have been mentally vacationing on Mars with Elon Musk, Citizens United was a Supreme Court decision — Citizens United v. Federal Election Commission 558 U.S. 310 (2010) — which determined that corporations had the right, as hypothetical “persons,” to give as much money as they liked to political candidates.

We’ve made important contributions to world culture…

This “right” devolved from the First Amendment of the constitution, the 5-4 majority opinion said — giving money to political candidates and causes amounts to “freedom of speech.” The Citizens United ruling opened the door for unlimited election spending by corporations and enormous mischief in our national life. Then-President Obama — a constitutional law professor before his career in politics — complained bitterly about the opinion days later in his State of the Union address, saying that the court had “reversed a century of law to open the floodgates, including foreign corporations, to spend without limit in our elections.”

And for the next seven years he did absolutely nothing about it, nor did the Democratic Party majority in congress. Rather, they vacuumed in as much corporate campaign money as possible from every hokey political action committee (PAC) from sea to shining sea, especially in the 2016 presidential election starring Hillary “It’s My Turn” Clinton. It turned out to not be her turn in large part because the voters noticed the stench of corruption wafting off this toxic flow of corporate money, which Hillary was using to vastly outspend her billionaire opponent, troll that he was.

It’s been a heck of a ride, and it’s coming to an end …

Of course, corporations have not always been what they are deemed to be today. They evolved with the increasingly complex activities of industrial economies. Along the way — in Great Britain first, actually — they were deemed to exist as the equivalent of legal persons, to establish that the liabilities of the company were separate and distinct from those of its owners. In the USA, forming a corporation usually required an act of legislation until the late 19th century. After that, they merely had to register with the states. Then congress had to sort out the additional problems of giant “trusts” and holding companies (hence, anti-trust laws, now generally ignored).

In short, the definition of what a corporation is and what it has a right to do is in a pretty constant state of change as economies evolve. And insofar as the current economy is sinking like the USS Titanic — and our republic as a mode of governance with it — surely the time has come to redefine in legislation the role and existential nature of a corporation in this polity. This homework assignment should be given to the Democratic members of congress, since they are otherwise preoccupied only with hunting for Russian gremlins and discovering new sexual abnormalities to protect and defend.

The crux of the argument is that corporations cannot be said to be entirely and altogether the equivalent of persons for all legal purposes. In law, corporations have duties, obligations, and responsibilities to their shareholders first, and only after that to the public interest or the common good, and only then by pretty strict legal prescription. It may be assumed that the interests of corporations and their shareholders are in opposition to, and in conflict with, the public interest. And insofar as elections are fundamentally matters of the public interest, corporations must be prohibited from efforts to influence the outcome of elections.

That’s your assignment Chuck Schumer, Nancy Pelosi, and the rest of the Democratic Party leadership. Get serious. Show a little initiative. Do something useful. Draw up some legislation.

Get behind something real that might make a difference in this decrepitating country.

Or get out of the way and let a new party do the job.

Rufus rescues a girl who jumps overboard. video 6MB

Rufus rescues a man carried away by a flowing stream. video 11mb

Another brilliant essay from Orlov in which he addresses the incredible bumbling incompetence of the US in contrast to Russia’s intelligent competence – Orlov is spot on.

This article from our archives was first published on RI in May 2018

Dmitry Orlov (Club Orlov) Tue, Oct 12 2021 | 5410 words 71,372

“Russia is ready to respond to any provocation, but the last thing the Russians want is another war. And that, if you like good news, is the best news you are going to hear.”

A whiff of World War III hangs in the air. In the US, Cold War 2.0 is on, and the anti-Russian rhetoric emanating from the Clinton campaign, echoed by the mass media, hearkens back to McCarthyism and the red scare. In response, many people are starting to think that Armageddon might be nigh—an all-out nuclear exchange, followed by nuclear winter and human extinction. It seems that many people in the US like to think that way. Goodness gracious!

The curtain is falling on a country in serious trouble

But, you know, this is hardly unreasonable of them. The US is spiraling down into financial, economic and political collapse, losing its standing in the world and turning into a continent-sized ghetto full of drug abuse, violence and decaying infrastructure, its population vice-ridden, poisoned with genetically modified food, morbidly obese, exploited by predatory police departments and city halls, plus a wide assortment of rackets, from medicine to education to real estate… That we know.

We also know how painful it is to realize that the US is damaged beyond repair, or to acquiesce to the fact that most of the damage is self-inflicted: the endless, useless wars, the limitless corruption of money politics, the toxic culture and gender wars, and the imperial hubris and willful ignorance that underlies it all… This level of disconnect between the expected and the observed certainly hurts, but the pain can be avoided, for a time, through mass delusion.

This sort of downward spiral does not automatically spell “Apocalypse,” but the specifics of the state cult of the US—an old-time religiosity overlaid with the secular religion of progress—are such that there can be no other options: either we are on our way up to build colonies on Mars, or we perish in a ball of flame. Since the humiliation of having to ask the Russians for permission to fly the Soyuz to the International Space Station makes the prospect of American space colonies seem dubious, it’s Plan B: balls of flame here we come!

And so, most of the recent American warmongering toward Russia can be explained by the desire to find anyone but oneself to blame for one’s unfolding demise. This is a well-understood psychological move—projecting the shadow—where one takes everything one hates but can’t admit to about oneself and projects it onto another. On a subconscious level (and, in the case of some very stupid people, even a conscious one) the Americans would like to nuke Russia until it glows, but can’t do so because Russia would nuke them right back. But the Americans can project that same desire onto Russia, and since they have to believe that they are good while Russia is evil, this makes the Armageddon scenario appear much more likely.

But this way of thinking involves a break with reality. There is exactly one nation in the world that nukes other countries, and that would be the United States. It gratuitously nuked Japan, which was ready to surrender anyway, just because it could. It prepared to nuke Russia at the start of the Cold War, but was prevented from doing so by a lack of a sufficiently large number of nuclear bombs at the time. And it attempted to render Russia defenseless against nuclear attack, abandoning the Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty in 2002, but has been prevented from doing so by Russia’s new weapons. These include, among others, long-range supersonic cruise missiles (Kalibr), and suborbital intercontinental missiles carrying multiple nuclear payloads capable of evasive maneuvers as they approach their targets (Sarmat). All of these new weapons are impossible to intercept using any conceivable defensive technology. At the same time, Russia has also developed its own defensive capabilities, and its latest S-500 system will effectively seal off Russia’s airspace, being able to intercept targets both close to the ground and in low Earth orbit.

In the meantime, the US has squandered a fantastic sum of money fattening up its notoriously corrupt defense establishment with various versions of “Star Wars,” but none of that money has been particularly well spent. The two installations in Europe of Aegis Ashore (completed in Romania, planned in Poland) won’t help against Kalibr missiles launched from submarines or small ships in the Pacific or the Atlantic, close to US shores, or against intercontinental missiles that can fly around them. The THAAD installation currently going into South Korea (which the locals are currently protesting by shaving their heads) won’t change the picture either.

There is exactly one nuclear aggressor nation on the planet, and it isn’t Russia. But this shouldn’t matter. In spite of American efforts to undermine it, the logic of Mutual Assured Destruction (MAD) remains in effect. The probability of a nuclear exchange is determined not by anyone’s policy but by the likelihood of it happening by accident. Since there is no winning strategy in a nuclear war, nobody has any reason to try to start one. Under no circumstances is the US ever going to be able to dictate its terms to Russia by threatening it with nuclear annihilation.

If a nuclear war is not in the cards, how about a conventional one? The US has been sabre-rattling by stationing troops and holding drills in the Baltics, right on Russia’s western border, installing ABM systems in Romania, Poland and South Korea, supporting anti-Russian Ukrainian Nazis, etc. All of this seems quite provocative; can it result in a war?

And what would that war look like?

Here, we have to look at how Russia has responded to previous provocations. These are all the facts that we know, and can use to predict what will happen, as opposed to purely fictional, conjectural statements unrelated to known facts.

When the US or its proxies attack an enclave of Russian citizens outside of Russia’s borders, here are the types of responses that we have been able to observe so far:

1.

The example of Georgia. During the Summer Olympics in Beijing (a traditional time of peace), the Georgian military, armed and trained by the US and Israel, invaded South Ossetia. This region was part of Georgia in name only, being mostly inhabited by Russian speakers and passport-holders. Georgian troops started shelling its capital, Tskhinval, killing some Russian peacekeeping troops stationed in the region and causing civilian casualties. In response, Russian troops rolled into Georgia, within hours completely eliminating Georgia’s war-making capability. They announced that South Ossetia was de facto no longer part of Georgia, throwing in Abkhazia (another disputed Russian enclave) for good measure, and withdrew. Georgia’s warmongering president Saakashvili was pronounced a “political corpse” and left to molder in place. Eventually he was forced to flee Georgia, where he has been declared a fugitive from justice. The US State Department recently gave him a new job, as Governor of Odessa in the Ukraine. Recently, Russian-Georgian relations have been on the mend.

2.

The example of Crimea. During the Winter Olympics in Sochi, in Russia (a traditional time of peace) there occurred an illegal, violent overthrow of the elected, constitutional government of the Ukraine, followed by the installation of a US-picked puppet administration. In response, the overwhelmingly Russian population of the autonomous region of Crimea held a referendum. Some 95% of them voted to secede from the Ukraine and to once again become part of Russia, which they had been for centuries and until very recently. The Russians then used their troops already stationed in the region under an international agreement to make sure that the results of the referendum were duly enacted. Not a single shot was fired during this perfectly peaceful exercise in direct democracy.

3.

The example of Crimea again. During the Summer Olympics in Rio (a traditional time of peace) a number of Ukrainian operatives stormed the Crimean border and were swiftly apprehended by Russia’s Federal Security Service, together with a cache of weapons and explosives. A number of them were killed in the process, along with two Russians. The survivors immediately confessed to planning to organize terrorist attacks at the ferry terminal that links Crimea with the Russian mainland and a railway station. The ringleader of the group confessed to being promised the princely sum of $140 for carrying out these attacks. All of them are very much looking forward to a warm, dry bunk and three square meals of day, care of the Russian government, which must seem like a slice of heaven compared to the violence, chaos, destitution and desolation that characterizes life in present-day Ukraine. In response, the government in Kiev protested against “Russian provocation,” and put its troops on alert to prepare against “Russian invasion.” Perhaps the next shipment of US aid to the Ukraine should include a supply of chlorpromazine or some other high-potency antipsychotic medication.

Note the constant refrain of “during the Olympics.” This is not a coincidence but is indicative of a certain American modus operandi. Yes, waging war during a traditional time of peace is both cynical and stupid. But the American motto seems to be “If we try something repeatedly and it still doesn’t work, then we just aren’t trying hard enough.” In the minds of those who plan these events, the reason they never work right can’t possibly have anything to do with it being stupid. This is known as “Level III Stupid”: stupidity so profound that it is unable to comprehend its own stupidity.

4.

The example of Donbass. After the events described in point 2 above, this populous, industrialized region, which was part of Russia until well into the 20th century and is linguistically and culturally Russian, went into political turmoil, because most of the locals wanted nothing to do with the government that had been installed in Kiev, which they saw as illegitimate. The Kiev government proceeded to make things worse, first by enacting laws infringing on the rights of Russian-speakers, then by actually attacking the region with the army, which they continue to do to this day, with three unsuccessful invasions and continuous shelling of both residential and industrial areas, in the course of which over ten thousand civilians have been murdered and many more wounded. In response, Russia assisted with establishing a local resistance movement supported by a capable military contingent formed of local volunteers. This was done by Russian volunteers, acting in an unofficial capacity, and by Russian private citizens donating money to the cause. In spite of Western hysteria over “Russian invasion” and “Russian aggression,” no evidence of it exists. Instead, the Russian government has done just three things: it refused to interfere with the work of its citizens coming to the aid of Donbass; it pursued a diplomatic strategy for resolving the conflict; and it has provided numerous convoys of humanitarian aid to the residents of Donbass. Russia’s diplomatic initiative resulted in two international agreements—Minsk I and Minsk II—which compelled both Kiev and Donbass to pursue a strategy of political resolution of the conflict through cessation of hostilities and the granting to Donbass of full autonomy. Kiev has steadfastly refused to fulfill its obligations under these agreements. The conflict is now frozen, but continuing to bleed because of Ukrainian shelling, waiting for the Ukrainian puppet government to collapse.

To complete the picture, let us include Russia’s recent military action in Syria, where it came to the defense of the embattled Syrian government and quickly demolished a large part of ISIS/ISIL/Daesh/Islamic Caliphate, along with various other terrorist organizations active in the region. The rationale for this action is that Russia saw a foreign-funded terrorist nest in Syria as a direct threat to Russia’s security. Two other notable facts here are that Russia acted in accordance with international law, having been invited by Syria’s legitimate, internationally recognized government and that the military action was scaled back as soon as it seemed possible for all of the legitimate (non-terrorist) parties to the conflict to return to the negotiating table. These three elements—using military force as a reactive security measure, scrupulous adherence to international law, and seeing military action as being in the service of diplomacy—are very important to understanding Russia’s methods and ambitions.

Turning now to US military/diplomatic adventures, we see a situation that is quite different. US military spending is responsible for over half of all federal discretionary spending, dwarfing most other vitally important sectors, such as infrastructure, public medicine and public education. It serves several objectives. Most importantly, it is a public jobs program: a way of employing people who are not employable in any actually productive capacity due to lack of intelligence, education and training. Second, it is a way for politicians and defense contractors to synergistically enrich themselves and each other at the public’s expense. Third, it is an advertising program for weapons sales, the US being the top purveyor of lethal technology in the world. Last of all, it is a way of projecting force around the world, bombing into submission any country that dares oppose Washington’s global hegemonic ambitions, often in total disregard of international law. Nowhere on this list is the actual goal of defending the US.

None of these justifications works vis-à-vis Russia. In dollar terms, the US outspends Russia on defense hands down. However, viewed in terms of purchasing parity, Russia manages to buy as much as ten times more defensive capability per unit national wealth than the US, largely negating this advantage. Also, what the US gets for its money is inferior: the Russian military gets the weapons it wants; the US military gets what the corrupt political establishment and their accomplices in the military-industrial complex want in order to enrich themselves. In terms of being an advertising campaign for weapons sales, watching Russian weaponry in action in Syria, effectively wiping out terrorists in short order through a relentless bombing campaign using scant resources, then seeing US weaponry used by the Saudis in Yemen, with much support and advice from the US, being continuously defeated by lightly armed insurgents, is unlikely to generate too many additional sales leads. Lastly, the project of maintaining US global hegemony seems to be on the rocks as well. Russia and China are now in a de facto military union. Russia’s superior weaponry, coupled with China’s almost infinitely huge infantry, make it an undefeatable combination. Russia now has a permanent air base in Syria, has made a deal with Iran to use Iranian military bases, and is in the process of prying Turkey away from NATO. As the US military, with its numerous useless bases around the world and piles of useless gadgets, turns into an international embarrassment, it remains, for the time being, a public jobs program for employing incompetents, and a rich source of graft.

In all, it is important to understand how actually circumscribed American military capabilities are. The US is very good at attacking vastly inferior adversaries. The action against Nazi Germany only succeeded because it was by then effectively defeated by the Red Army—all except for the final mop-up, which is when the US came out of its timid isolation and joined the fray. Even North Korea and Vietnam proved too tough for it, and even there its poor performance would have been much poorer were it not for the draft, which had the effect of adding non-incompetents to the ranks, but produced the unpleasant side-effect of enlisted men shooting their incompetent officers—a much underreported chapter of American military history. And now, with the addition of LGBTQ people to the ranks, the US military is on its way to becoming an international laughing stock. Previously, terms like “faggot” and “pussy” were in widespread use in the US military’s basic training. Drill sergeants used such terminology to exhort the “numb-nuts” placed in their charge to start acting like men. I wonder what words drill sergeants use now that they’ve been tasked with training those they previously referred to as “faggots” and “pussies”? The comedic potential of this nuance isn’t lost on Russia’s military men.

This comedy can continue as long as the US military continues to shy away from attacking any serious adversary, because if it did, comedy would turn to tragedy rather quickly.

If, for instance, US forces tried to attack Russian territory by lobbing missiles across the border, they would be neutralized in instantaneous retaliation by Russia’s vastly superior artillery.

If Americans or their proxies provoked Russians living outside of Russia (and there are millions of them) to the point of open rebellion, Russian volunteers, acting in an unofficial capacity and using private funds, would quickly train, outfit and arm them, creating a popular insurgency that would continue for years, if necessary, until Americans and their proxies capitulate.

If the Americans do the ultimately foolish thing and invade Russian territory, they would be kettled and annihilated, as repeatedly happened to the Ukrainian forces in Donbass.

Any attempt to attack Russia using the US aircraft carrier fleet would result in its instantaneous sinking using any of several weapons: ballistic anti-ship missiles, supercavitating torpedos or supersonic cruise missiles.

Strategic bombers, cruise missiles and ballistic missiles would be eliminated by Russia’s advanced new air defense systems.

So much for attack; but what about defense? Well it turns out that there is an entire separate dimension to engaging Russia militarily. You see, Russia lost a huge number of civilian lives while fighting off Nazi Germany. Many people, including old people, women and children, died of starvation and disease, or from German shelling, or from the abuse they suffered at the hands of German soldiers. On the other hand, Soviet military casualties were on par with those of the Germans. This incredible calamity befell Russia because it had been invaded, and it has conditioned Russian military thinking ever since. The next large-scale war, if there ever is one, will be fought on enemy territory. Thus, if the US attacks Russia, Russia will counterattack the US mainland. Keeping in mind that the US hasn’t fought a war on its own territory in over 150 years, this would come as quite a shock.

Of course, this would be done in ways that are consistent with Russian military thinking. Most importantly, the attack must be such that the possibility of triggering a nuclear exchange remains minimized. Second, the use of force would be kept to the minimum required to secure a cessation of hostilities and a return to the negotiating table on terms favorable to Russia. Third, every effort would be made to make good use of internal popular revolts to create long-lasting insurgencies, letting volunteers provide the necessary arms and training. Lastly, winning the peace is just as important as winning the war, and every effort would be made to inform the American public that what they are experiencing is just retribution for certain illegal acts. From a diplomatic perspective, it would be much more tidy to treat the problem of war criminals running the US as an internal, American political problem, to be solved by Americans themselves, with an absolute minimum of outside help. This would best be accomplished through a bit of friendly, neighborly intelligence-sharing, letting all interested parties within the US know who exactly should be held responsible for these war crimes, what they and their family members look like, and where they live.

The question then is, What is the absolute minimum of military action—what I am calling “a thousand balls of fire,” named after George Bush Senior’s “a thousand points of light”—to restore peace on terms favorable to Russia? It seems to me that 1000 “balls of fire” is just about the right number. These would be smallish explosions—enough to demolish a building or an industrial installation, with almost no casualties. This last point is extremely important, because the goal is to destroy the system without actually directly hurting any of the people. It wouldn’t be anyone else’s fault if people in the US suffer because they refuse to do as their own FEMA asks them to do: stockpile a month’s worth of food and water and put together an emergency evacuation plan. In addition, given the direction in which the US is heading, getting a second passport, expatriating your savings, and getting some firearms training just in case you end up sticking around are all good ideas.

The reason it is very important for this military action to not kill anyone is this: there are some three million Russians currently residing in the US, and killing any of them is definitely not on strategy. There is an even larger number of people from populous countries friendly to Russia, such as China and India, who should also remain unharmed. Thus, a strategy that would result in massive loss of life would simply not be acceptable. A much better scenario would involve producing a crisis that would quickly convince the Russians living in the US (along with all the other foreign nationals and first-generation immigrants, and quite a few of the second-generation immigrants too) that the US is no longer a good place to live. Then all of these people could be repatriated—a process that would no doubt take a few years. Currently, Russia is the number three destination worldwide for people looking for a better place to live, after the US and Germany. Germany is now on the verge of open revolt against Angela Merkel’s insane pro-immigration policies. The US is not far behind, and won’t remain an attractive destination for much longer. And that leaves Russia as the number one go-to place on the whole planet. That’s a lot of pressure, even for a country that is 11 time zones wide and has plenty of everything except tropical fruit and people.

We must also keep in mind that Israel—which is, let’s face it, a US protectorate temporarily parked on Palestinian land—wouldn’t last long without massive US support. Fully a third of Israeli population happens to be Russian. The moment Project Israel starts looking defunct, most of these Russian Jews, clever people that they are, will no doubt decide to stage an exodus and go right back to Russia, as is their right. This will create quite a headache for Russia’s Federal Migration Service, because it will have to sift through them all, letting in all the normal Russian Jews while keeping out the Zionist zealots, the war criminals and the ultra-religious nutcases. This will also take considerable time.

But actions that risk major loss of life also turn out to be entirely unnecessary, because an effective alternative strategy is available: destroy key pieces of government and corporate infrastructure, then fold your arms and wait for the other side to crawl back to the negotiating table waving a white rag. You see, there are just a few magic ingredients that allow the US to continue to exist as a stable, developed country capable of projecting military force overseas. They are: the electric grid; the financial system; the interstate highway system; rail and ocean freight; the airlines; and oil and gas pipelines. Disable all of the above, and it’s pretty much game over. How many “balls of flame” would that take? Probably well under a thousand.

Disabling the electric grid is almost ridiculously easy, because the system is very highly integrated and interdependent, consisting of just three sub-grids, called “interconnects”: western, eastern and Texas. The most vulnerable parts of the system are the Large Power Transformers (LPTs) which step up voltages to millions of volts for transmission, and step them down again for distribution. These units are big as houses, custom-built, cost millions of dollars and a few years to replace, and are mostly manufactured outside the US. Also, along with the rest of the infrastructure in the US, most of them are quite old and prone to failure. There are several thousand of these key pieces of equipment, but because the electric grid in the US is working at close to capacity, with several critical choke points, it would be completely disabled if even a handful of the particularly strategic LPTs were destroyed. In the US, any extended power outage in any of the larger urban centers automatically triggers large-scale looting and mayhem. Some estimate that just a two week long outage would push the situation to a point of no return, where the damage would become too extensive to ever be repaired.

Disabling the financial system is likewise relatively trivial. There are just a few choke points, including the Federal Reserve, a few major banks, debit and credit card company data centers, etc. They can be disabled using a variety of methods, such as a cruise missile strike, a cyberattack, electric supply disruption or even civil unrest. It bears noting that the financial system in the US is rigged to blow even without foreign intervention. The combination of runaway debt, a gigantic bond bubble, the Federal Reserve trapped into ever-lower interest rates, underfunded pensions and other obligations, hugely overpriced real estate and a ridiculously frothy stock market will eventually detonate it from the inside.

A few more surgical strikes can take out the oil and gas pipelines, import terminals, highway bridges and tunnels, railroads and airlines. A few months without access to money and financial services, electricity, gasoline, diesel, natural gas, air transport or imported spare parts needed to repair the damage should be enough to force the US to capitulate. If it makes any efforts to restore any of these services, an additional strike or two would quickly negate them.

The number of “balls of flame” can be optimized by taking advantage of destructive synergies: a GPS jammer deployed near the site of an attack can prevent responders from navigating to it; taking out a supply depot together with the facility it serves, coupled with transportation system disruptions, can delay repairs by many months; a simple bomb threat can immobilize a transportation hub, making it a sitting duck instead of a large number of moving targets; etc.

You may think that executing such a fine-tuned attack would require a great deal of intelligence, which would be difficult to gather, but this is not the case. First, a great deal of tactically useful information is constantly being leaked by insiders, who often consider themselves “patriots.” Second, what hasn’t been leaked can be hacked, because of the pitiable state of cybersecurity in the US. Remember, Russia is where anti-virus software is made—and a few of the viruses too. The National Security Agency was recently hacked, and its crown jewels stolen; if it can be hacked, what about all those whose security it supposedly protects?

You might also think that the US, if attacked in this manner, could effectively retaliate in kind, but this scenario is rather difficult to imagine. Many Russians don’t find English too difficult, are generally familiar with the US through exposure to US media, and the specialists among them, especially those who have studied or taught at universities in the US, can navigate their field of expertise in the US almost as easily as in Russia. Most Americans, on the other hand, can barely find Russia on a map, can’t get past the Cyrillic alphabet and find Russian utterly incomprehensible.

Also consider that Russia’s defense establishment is mainly focused on… defense. Offending people in foreign lands is not generally seen as strategically important. “A hundred friends is better than a hundred rubles” is a popular saying. And so Russia manages to be friends with India and Pakistan at the same time, and with China and Vietnam. In the Middle East, it maintains cordial relations with Turkey, Syria, Israel, Saudi Arabia, Yemen, Egypt and Iran, also all at the same time. Russian diplomats are required to keep channels of communication open with friends and adversaries alike, at all times. Yes, being inexplicably adversarial toward Russia can be excruciatingly painful, but you can make it stop any time! All it takes is a phone call.

Add to this the fact that the vicissitudes of Russian history have conditioned Russia’s population to expect the worst, and simply deal with it. “They can’t kill us all!” is another favorite saying. If Americans manage to make them suffer, the Russian people would no doubt find great solace in the fact they are making the Americans suffer even worse, and many among them would think that this achievement, in itself, is already a victory. Nor will they remain without help; it is no accident that Russia’s Minister of Defense, Sergei Shoigu, previously ran the Emergencies Ministry, and his performance at his job there won him much adulation and praise. In short, if attacked, the Russians will simply take their lumps—as they always have—and then go on to conquer and win, as they always have.

It doesn’t help matters that most of what little Americans have been told about Russia by their political leaders and mass media is almost entirely wrong. They keep hearing about Putin and the “Russian bear,” and so they are probably imagining Russia to be a vast wasteland where Vladimir Putin keeps company with a chess-playing, internet server-hacking, nuclear physicist, rocket scientist, Ebola vaccine-inventing, polyglot, polymath bear. Bears are wonderful, Russians love bears, but let’s not overstate things. Yes, Russian bears can ride bicycles and are sometimes even good with children, but they are still just wild animals and/or pets (many Russians can’t draw that distinction). And so when the Americans growl about the “Russian bear,” the Russians wonder, Which one?

In short, Russia is to most Americans a mystery wrapped in an enigma, and there simply isn’t a large enough pool of intelligent Americans with good knowledge of Russia to draw upon, whereas to many Russians the US is an open book. As far as the actual American “intelligence” and “security” services, they are all bloated bureaucratic boondoggles mired in political opportunism and groupthink that excel at just two things: unquestioningly following idiotic procedures, and creatively fitting the facts to the politics du jour. “Proving” that Iraq has “weapons of mass destruction”—no problem! Telling Islamist terrorists apart from elderly midwestern grandmothers at an airport security checkpoint—no can do!

Russia will not resort to military measures against the US unless sorely provoked. Time and patience are on Russia’s side. With each passing year, the US grows weaker and loses friends and allies, while Russia grows stronger and gains friends and allies. The US, with its political dysfunction, runaway debt, decaying infrastructure and spreading civil unrest, is a dead nation walking. It will take time for each of the United States to neatly demolish themselves into their own footprints, like those three New York skyscrapers did on 9/11 (WTC #1, #2 and #7) but Russia is very patient. Russia is ready to respond to any provocation, but the last thing the Russians want is another war. And that, if you like good news, is the best news you are going to hear. But if you still think that there is going to be a war with Russia, don’t think “Armageddon”; think “a thousand balls of flame,” and then—crickets!

Passerby  on December 29, 2021  ·  at 4:42 pm EST/EDT 

The German army has it’s first trans officer, Anastasia Biefang, who is on record as saying “I love being taken in dark rooms”.

In 2014 the Belgian army discarded its Leopard tanks, as a cost saving measure.

I interpret this as: the West has been busy creating an army that corresponds to a political vision, not to military requirements.

And when I look at the Russian proposals, I don’t get an impression of an ultimatum. Rather, the impression is one of “checkmate”: the West can move any piece it wants, they are all losing moves.

Video…

A service-to-self sentience shows his real self and behaviors. video 2MB

China has developed mobile laser weapon based on Dongfeng EQ2050 4×4 tactical vehicle

weapons defence industry military technology UK

Posted On Wednesday, 29 December 2021 16:07

According to a picture published on the Twitter account of @sugar_wsnbn on December 28, 2021, the Defense Industry of China has developed a mobile laser weapon system based on a modified Dongfeng EQ2050 nicknamed Mengshi, 4×4 light tactical vehicle.

Citing a U.S. Government report, China’s energy laser weapons program has a breadth and intensity that should greatly concern American and Allied defense planners. Some Chinese military experts expect that energy weapons will become more prevalent in 10 to 20 years and will dominate the battlefield in 30 years.

At the edition 2014 of Zhuhai Airshow, the China Academy of Engineering Physics displayed its “Low-Level Guard-1,” a 10-kilowatt electric-powered fiber optic laser. This fixed device consisted of a power module and an equipment module housing the laser and optical guidance/tracking systems. This apparently became the basis for the 30 kilowatts Low-Altitude Laser Defending System (LASS) first displayed by the Poly arms marketing company at a September 2016 military exhibit in South Africa. It claims to have a 4-kilometer range at the 30-kilowatt power level and is useful mainly for defeating swarms of small plastic drones.

According to our first analysis, the original crew compartment of the Dongfeng EQ2050 4×4 light tactical vehicle has been modified with a two doors crew cabin at the front and a fully enclosed compartment located in the middle of the chassis. The laser weapon system is integrated on a turret and can be lowered inside the vehicle in road position.

According to a Chinese source, the whole system is able to track and detect drones at a maximum range of 3 km and the laser weapon will be used to destroy UAVs (Unmanned Aerial Vehicles) after detection.

The Mengshi or Dongfeng EQ2050 is a Chinese-made light tactical vehicle based on the design of the American Humvee, manufactured for government use by the Dongfeng Motor Group. In 2004 a total of 57 EQ2050 vehicles were sent to the PLA for trials and evaluation. The vehicle is now in service with Bangladesh, Belarus, Central African Republic, China, Gabon, Laos, Mali, Tajikistan,, Trinidad and Tobago, Turkmenistan, Venezuela and Zimbabwe.

The Dongfeng EQ2050 is powered Cummins EQB150-20 turbocharged diesel developing 150 hp coupled to a 5-speed gearbox. The vehicle can run at a maximum road speed of 120 km with a cruising range of over 500 km.

END OF PART 3

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Don’t rely on fate

This is a very short but simple article / post. The message is simple and it is clear. Don’t wait for something to happen. Just smile, take the bold step, and make it happen.

In MM here, we discuss world-line navigation via campaigns. We discuss use of fate-forecasting to maps out our auspicious and inauspicious times, and how we can generate a calmness; a bubble of calmness that surrounds us. But one thing that I haven’t really stressed is how important it is for us to become captains of our own unique destinies.

Hopefully this article will underline this most essential point.

Video 22MB

If there is something that you want in your life… ask for it.

You can use your affirmation prayer campaigns to do so, you know, but you can also physically ask the person, the people, or the situation to open up some doors for you.

It’s much easier when you know that you are good, and kind. It’s much easier when you know what you want, and are not afraid to takes risks to get it.

Just ask.

Meanwhile…

One day in college, I was taking a walk in a park, and I saw her sitting on a bench and wearing a really beautiful dress. I went up and told her, “Your dress is really pretty!” She was like, “Oh my gosh, thank you SO MUCH!” and started to cry in my arms, explaining that she had been having a really shitty day. One thing ultimately led to another, and we’ve now been married for three wonderful years.

Be the best that you can be.

I went to one of my works nights out at a local bowling place. I kept glancing over at this gorgeous girl over in the other lane and occasionally noticing her glancing back.

After about half an hour of debating with myself I decided to just go over and speak to her, because what’s the worst that can happen right? So I walk over and start speaking to her usual flirty stuff and I feel we hit it off nicely, so confidently I walk back to my lane and continue the night as normal and end up home. A sudden fear hits the back of my head that I didn’t give her my name, number or any means of contacting me… I blew it!

So I go to sleep, and wake up the next morning to discover a Facebook friend request from the girl, so I obviously accept and message her the usual formalities and then ask the glaring question: How did you get my name? Her reply was “you yelled that’s how (insert my full name) does it you mother fuckers after getting a strike,”. I’ve never both hated and loved myself so much for that moment… But it worked out, we’ve been together in a long distance relationship for 2 years and it’s safe to say I’m in love.

Be good, and be kind. Be the Rufus. I believe in you.

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The Western Bloc’s ruling class are really delusional psychopathic lunatics who are deluded by obvious drug abuse

Hum. Do you think the title is too soft? Maybe I should tell everyone what I REALLY think, huh?

Hum.

Yeah, today, one of my comments on LinkedIN was banned and erased because it was identified as “Disinformation”. I guess that I am now a “source of disinformation”. I’m bad news, you all.

Sigh.

I said that China was beautiful and that the skies are pretty much blue all the time, and that the pollution problem is pretty much going away.

I guess that this first-hand OPINION of mine is classified as “disinformation” and thus I lose my First Amendment Rights because the Tech Oligarchy says that Rights no longer apply to citizens using their platform.

Well, I can see and understand moderation of comments. I do it, don’t you know. No insults. No stuff about the Jews-Jews-Jews. No stuff about how great and exceptional the USA is. No stuff about how everything is going to change when Candidate XXXXX replaces President YYYYY in the United States.

But that’s just me.

But don’t call an opinion something else. Say what it is.

It is a comment that disagrees with the opinions of the owner of the website. Period. That’s all. Speak your mind. Look people in the eye (or in the cam) and speak your peace.

Sigh.

Hey! Does anyone still believe that America is free?

Banning speech is NOT FREEDOM. It’s something else. So why should the United States exist at all, if it does not represent what it says it represents? Why not call it as it actually is; A military dictatorship disguised as an oligarchy that operates a miltiary empire and is served by serf / slaves controlled by electronic means and fear.

This is all so silly. It makes me yearn for a simpler time….

Simpler.

Well, maybe not THAT simple.

Maybe simpler like this…

Oh Baby!

Yeah. The age of big rail, and comfort. I love those ashtrays in the observation car. I can easily see myself drinking a cocktail, maybe a whiskey sour, and reading a newspaper. Perhaps checking out the prices on Stetson hats.

A cute dame besides me. Smelling like spring flowers, and wearing an lovely hat. Maybe a perfumed hankerchief with her phone number in red lipstick…

An Easier time…

A time when geeks were just regular (if shunned) people, not psychopathic megalomaniacs.

A Nicer time…

…when women had a greater variety of color choices to select from. When women wore bigger earrings. When women would put their hair up when they went out, but put their hair down when they were behind closed doors…

I like that everyone is holding a cocktail. I’ll bet the men-folk became used car salesmen, eh?

A Pleasanter time. A time when things were peaceful and easy going. Like Petticoat Junction, the Walton’s, or Mayberry RFD…

Cast of Petticoat Junction. There’s uncle Joe there. He almost served as a role model for me.

Oh, by the way, it’s easy to see why I had such a crush on the girls, don’t you know. Thin and trim. Lovely. Sweet, and kind. Nice eyes and great lips.

They were so fine…

One was a red head. One was a blonde, and the other was a brunette. They really covered all the bases in that family. I wonder the true story of their fathers. As I recall, it was never brought up.

It was a Cheaper time…

More comfortable.

I get a distinctive Peter Frampton vibe from this picture…

A Happier time. No one is going to tell you what you can do, or say, or think. No one is going to get into your face for smoking a pipe, or having a beer…

It was our generation that made all the big and nasty weapons that the lunitic government leadership so proudly threatens the rest of the world with. We all should have jsut stayed one, gone fishing and smoked weed in joints.

And Safer… too.

Yes, I do miss all that. And sometimes, I feel that I was born just a half a decade too late. It’s an odd feeling…

This car’s a beaut, eh? Too bad I haven’t a clue as to what it is. (I do love the awnings over the windows in the house in the background.)

I missed out in this by just a few years.

Well, let’s jump back to reality.

The world seems to be going down the drain. It’s not. It just seems to be because all the United States is collapsing at all levels. Have you seen the boarded up downtowns in the cities, the mob riots in the malls and shopping areas, the police shoot-outs and gun downs, and of course the train swarms where gangs of pack urban society strip a train completely bare?

The USA is falling to pieces.

Why?

Because it is run by idiots.

The West’s ruling “elites” truly are stupid!

15668 Views January 14, 2022, Found HERE

First, check this out:

I would just add that to think that the Russian winter can prevent the Russian military from fighting is simply breathtakingly stupid. However, since The Telegraph can post such nonsense, this goes to show that the general public in the West has also been stupidified beyond rescue and can be fed any bullcrap without batting an eye.

While the leaders of the (already dead) Empire are consulting meteorologists (or even astrologists?), they are completely missing the basic reality of modern warfare. These seem to be especially unaware of three basic facts:

Modern warfare is primarily conducted with long range, standoff, weapons and this makes maneuver by fire far more important than maneuver by forces.
Modern warfare places a huge importance on integrated air defenses working together under automated battle management systems. Modern air defense missiles can shoot down targets several hundred of kilometers away. No western air defense system can stop hypersonic weapons.
Modern warfare is primarily non-linear, that is to say that it is more like soccer than like US football: each player (say a battalion tactical group) “follows/opposes” another player rather than trying to hold a line and defend territory.

Those who think that Putin is preparing a WWII style attack simply don’t understand modern warfare at all.

I want to conclude with two small notes:

Strategic vs operational/tactical mobility

The US can very quickly deploy a military force pretty much anywhere on the planet were modern air defenses are absent. This means that in terms of strategic mobility, the USA remains the leader in the deployment of a light force very far away from home.

Russian mobile forces are much much heavier than their US counterparts. A Russian Airborne Division is fully mechanized, and comes with its own artillery, armor, EW, etc.. This weight makes it impossible for the Russian to use, say, IL-76s or An-124s to deploy such an Airborne Division (or brigade or even battalion) somewhere in faraway African or Latin America. However, by this sacrifice of strategy mobility Russia achieves a operational/tactical mobility which US/NATO countries can only dream of. Simply put, Russia does not have the means to deploy a full infantry battalion somewhere in distant Paraguay, but she does have the means to transport a major Airborne Force (up to several divisions) anywhere inside Russia (this especially applies to forces designated as the “reserve of the commander in chief”) or, very roughly, within about 1000km from the Russian border. Once landed, that force will not only have a firepower mobile western forces can’t even begin to hope to acquire one day, they can also quickly relocate being, as I mentioned, totally mechanized (the move of the Rusbat from Bosnia to Pristina is a good illustration of this type of capability).

All of the above is to show how utterly stupid all the discussions about Russian forces being 100, 200 or even 400km away from the Ukie border. If needed, Russia could easily move a very large force (again, fully mechanized) to the Ukie border or even into the Nazi-controlled Ukraine. I do NOT believe that they have such plans (as Russia has much better options) but Russia definitely has the possibility to very quickly augment the 100k soldiers allegedly currently within 400km of the Ukie border.

Cuba, Venezuela, Nicaragua, etc.

I hear a lot of speculations about Russian missiles (or forces) being deployed “Cuban Missile Crisis” -style to either Cuba, Venezuela, Nicaragua or other friendly nations in Latin America. I would never say never (Putin loves to surprise), but in my opinion other than a reopening of the Russian intel basis in Lourdes, Russia will not actually deploy missiles in any of those countries. There are a couple of reasons for that:

Russia has no need to move her missiles anywhere because she now has the means to strike at the entire continental United States with a wide array of long range standoff weapons.
These countries are all unstable to some degree, and the issue of protecting advanced Russian weapons systems (or forces) from possible political turmoil is a headache nobody in Russia needs.
Deploying weapon systems of forces in a sovereign country require close consultations and negotiations with the host country (including a so-called SOFA). Why go through these headaches we Russian can act unilaterally without consulting with anybody?

Finally, not only can Russia threaten the continental United States without involving any third country, Russia can threaten US interests were they are the most vulnerable: abroad (especially in CENTCOM and in Far East Asia and Pacific region). Personally, I very much hope to see some truly major Russian weapon systems deliveries to both Iran and China. That being said, assisting Latin American counties like Cuba, Venezuela, Nicaragua, Bolivia, Chile or any other country struggling for its sovereignty would be a very good idea. Cuba would especially benefit from modern Russian air defenses and EW capabilities.

For the time being, let’s hear more about “sanctions from hell” and even “personal sanctions against Putin” or how the Russian tanks cannot deal with snow (or mud) in the exact same location where the USSR defeated the united Europe under Hitler in WWII or, before that, the united Europe under Napoleon.

Frankly, it appears to me that the 3B+PU crazies have totally taken over the Empire, and history shows how well that ends every time these “geniuses” and “hyenas” get involved in international politics.

And, finally, I really hope that Russia manages to finally protect the LDNR from the Ukronazis but WITHOUT any direct military intervention in the Ukraine (I have no problems with deniable, indirect, efforts to assist the LDNR). Such a non-invasion would be the ultimate AngloZionist nightmare and I sure hope they get it!

Andrei

Conclusion

Well, it’s being run by idiots. That’s not your problem though. Their idiocy is running through everything. But you can use a filter to control the flow of bullshit in your life.

Do so.

Aim and strive to re-manifest the joys of life that have been bleached away from you over the last few decades. Strive to get them back.

Start small. Add affirmations. Concentrate on the pleasant memories that matter to you.

Whether dancing at the beach…

Driving a “real” car again…

Having a family “sit down” dinner at the table, as a daily event… a very big THING. It’s very, very fundamental to having a good, happy and calm life.

According to Jill Castle, RD and founder of The Nourished Child, research about family meals concludes that they play an important role in children's growth, development and health. "Not only do kids who eat meals with their families eat healthier, they are more likely to get good grades, have higher self-esteem and lower rates of mental health concerns," she tells PEOPLE.

It can be challenging for any family to make time together as a unit, yet alone to do it on a consistent basis, but it’s these experiences that create a strong bond among family members, especially when children are involved.

"They are a huge help in modeling routines and behavior to our kids, for exposing them to a wide variety of food that we want them to eat, and for reconnecting after periods of being apart," Amy Palanjian, creator of Yummytoddlerfood.com and author of Busy Little Hands: Food Play! Activities for Preschoolers, explains to PEOPLE. 

"It's not always possible for everyone in a family to eat together due to schedules, and sometimes an adult may not be ready for a meal at the same time as a child and they may choose to have something like a glass of wine and a small snack while their child eats.

"It's the focus, conversation, and sitting down together without distractions that really matter—and it's okay if that looks different from a 'family meal,' " Palanjian adds. 

Experts talk to us about the significance of these family meal experiences, for both parents and children, and how effective they can be no matter how 'traditional' they are or aren't.

-People

Eating a meal with loved ones and freinds is the FIRST MOST IMPORTANT step in generating a safe, and calm environment for you and your loved ones. It is critical.

Oh, and by the way. Always remember…

You can have the last beer. You can have the last slice of pizza. You can’t have both.

Or having a fun picnic with friends and family. Drinking wine. Eating fresh bread and cheese. Enjoying the day and nature…

Maybe eating some vintage food made by your grandparents. Dig out that old recipe book.

Dig it out.

Dust it off.

Decompile your grandmothers script writing…

Here is a loaf of Italian bread with an Italian seasoned meat loaf concoction, baked in an oven in aluminum foil and covered in melted cheese.

Yum.

No one makes thes things any longer. I guess it’s just too easy to go and eat at “Olive Garden” instead.

Vintage dinner recipe: Savory supper on a bread slice – Horseradish and tomato version

Look at these ingredients! OMG. Yum!

Ingredients

2/3 cup (small can) undiluted evaporated milk
1-1/2 pounds ground beef
1/2 cup cracker meal
1 egg
1/2 cup chopped onion
1 tablespoon prepared horseradish
1 teaspoon garlic salt
1 teaspoon Morton salt
3/4 teaspoon Ajinomoto (MSG)
1/8 teaspoon pepper
1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
2 cups (8 ounces) grated process-type American cheese
3 7-inch loaves French bread
Heavy-duty aluminum foil
2 medium-sized tomatoes (each cut in 6 wedges)
12 strips of cheese for garnish

Directions

Combine first twelve ingredients. Cut bread loaves in half lengthwise. Spread meat mixture evenly over cut surface of each half. Wrap heavy-duty aluminum foil around crust side of bread, leaving top uncovered. Place on cookie sheet.

Bake in moderate oven (350 degrees) 25-30 minutes. Garnish with tomato wedges and strips of cheese. Bake 5 minutes longer. To serve, cut slices across or diagonally.

Serves 6 (Or two hungry American men.)

…

Or, you know… being a Rufus. Change your life for the better.

video. 19MB

And one final word…

Be good. Be kind. And you all will be allright.

Do you want more?

New Beginnings 3

Articles & Links

Master Index

You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
You can find out more about the author HERE.
If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

Russian commentaries on the collapsing United States (with some MM commentary as well) 2 of 3

This is part two of three parts.

In the first part, we concluded with an article how the Chinese decapitated the CIA and NED assets inside of China. China identified who the spies were, captured them and executed them immediately. This occurred when President Trump and Mike Pompeo / John Bolton were trying to start a pro-democracy movement in HK, unleash bio-weapons to kill livestock, and try to coordinate saboteurs inside the Chinese mainland.

Here we continue.

But before we do, I would like to say that nothing is better on a long cold day than a hot bowl of soup that has been cooking all afternoon. Especially when it is served with a nice crunchy bread. Don’t you think so? I love the smells and aromas of a good pot of soup or a hearty stew.

Ok, let’s continue.

Let’s remember what America actually is today… Everyone in the world believes it is a cluster fuck

Face the facts, the United States is a cluster fuck, and it is pure idiocy to believe that it can act as a unified force to take on Asia. It’s truly mind-boggling. video 2.4MB

Let’s remember who really won the “Korean War” . video 6MB

The United States is in a state of crisis. video 2MB

A comment…

Yes.

Idiocrates  on December 29, 2021  ·  at 3:37 pm EST/EDT 

For me its more than a feeling. The US has a proven track record of not being able to negotiate. Their posture has been to ‘appear’ mad, insane to scare the enemy into submission. Its human nature: a normal person is usually afraid of a madman and what he might do.

However, now, the US not only appears to be insane, they ARE insane, after practicing it for so long.

Another point is that I think it is not enough for Russia to neutralize Ukraine, to remove it as a source of insecurity.
Without clear and present danger to the US homeland, without a serious and unambiguous threat to Uncle Shmuels digs all Russian action will be meaningless. The yanks don't give 2 shits about anyone i.e EU, Ukraine and even Israel (yes moneybags notwithstanding).
If Russian does not scare the Dejesus out of normal and decent Americans, none of the ruling elites will get the message.
Clearly time for words has passed.

Russia is actually ahead of the United States on many issues championed by the American Left

This article from our archives was first published on RI in June 2015

Lisa Marie White Wed, Dec 29 2021 | 3330 words 23,663 Comments

We all know what it feels like to log onto the Newsweek-owned Daily Beast, or the puerile random listicle generator known as Buzzfeed, and peruse the invective-laden anti-Russian, anti-Putin screeds contained therein. These hysterical publications serve a function; that function is to convince members of the American public who might balk at militarism that today’s Russia is a dangerous, dirty, backward, evil place, and its leader is some amalgamation of Dr. Evil and Emperor Palpatine.

Unlike during the lead-up to the invasions of Iraq and Afghanistan, where the left took the lead in opposing the Bush administration’s reckless Middle East policy, American liberals have more or less given Obama a free hand in his dealings with Russia and the Evil Putin. Liberals opposed the Iraq War, and spent many an hour arguing with Bushies about the errors of his foreign policy. It just so happens that these individuals turned out to be right, but their insistence on facts, logic, and commitment to the truth have gone out the proverbial window when it comes to Russia and Ukraine. “Putin is just like Stalin,” my earnest, well-educated, liberal friends tell me. “His next target is Moldova and he hates gay people and Pussy Riot and now he wants to use prison labor to build the World Cup venues and he hates all women and doesn’t support women’s rights. I don’t understand why you are so pro-Russian.” I am pro-Russian because I can tell the difference between right and wrong. I can also realize when a country and a leader are being demonized to further an American geopolitical agenda. Furthermore, I can see that the more the United States tries to create some philosophical difference between the U.S. and Russia as existed during the Cold War, the more the former opens itself up to critique.

I guess it comes as no surprise when the U.S. mainstream media spends pages of copy wringing its hands over the deaths of con artists like Boris Nemtsov, but can’t find a smidgen of space to tell the story of innocent victims like Vanya – who suffered horrific injuries as the result of Kiev’s “anti-terrorist operation.” I would like to point out to the well-meaning urban hipsters who may be reading this that they are siding with people like John McCain (R-Ariz.) and Lindsey Graham (R-SC) and are being duped into supporting a neo-conservative war agenda. American liberals may not be on the same page with Vladimir Putin on many issues, which is great for them, because American liberals are not required to live in Russia. However, it must be pointed out that, in many ways, Russia is actually ahead of the United States on issues that tend to be dear to liberals’ hearts. Due to the constant deluge of invective on Russia’s “backward” slide, when I am aware of the precise extent and stench of America’s dirty laundry, these sanctimonious moral lectures from Americans on “human rights” don’t exactly gel with me.

Capital Punishment

Rather than getting its panties in a twist about a piece of legislation that a foreign country has merely proposed, perhaps the NYT would prefer it if Russia followed America’s lead and started executing its prisoners instead of asking them to repay their debt to society. Capital punishment in Russia has been indefinitely suspended – in contrast to the U.S.’s busy death chambers. Since 1976, the U.S. has executed 1,408 individuals. Thus far in 2015, 14 prisoners have been executed. Texas and Oklahoma alone are responsible for 637 executions. Even for those who support capital punishment, it cannot be denied that America’s death chambers have likely put innocent people to death. By contrast, when Russia entered the Council of Europe in 1996, Boris Yeltsin bumbled his way into abolishing the practice.

Capital punishment has not been reinstated under the administrations of Dmitri Medvedev or Vladimir Putin. In 2008, the UN took a vote on passing a moratorium on the death penalty. Russia was one of the 106 nations that voted in favor; the U.S was among the 46 that voted against. Despite the objections of countries such as the U.S., Saudi Arabia, and Iran, the measure was approved. Not only does the U.S. far outpace Russia in use of the death penalty, America executes individuals who would not be eligible for the death penalty in Russia. Women, children, and the mentally disabled are exempt from capital punishment. The last person executed in Russia was Sergey Golovkin, a convicted serial killer. In fact, Foreign Minister Sergei Lavrov has spoken out against the death penalty.

Rates of Incarceration

Perhaps the Russians do not need to clear out their prisons through the use of a barbaric and outdated punishment simply because they don’t have as many individuals in prison. Think Progress reports that the U.S. has the largest prison population in the developed world. Additionally, minority American men are more likely than their white counterparts to land in prison.

According to this chart, the incarceration rate in Russia lands somewhere between the U.S. states of Washington and Utah. You read that correctly. The entirety of the Russian Federation has a smaller percentage of its population in prison than the state of Washington. Washington has approximately 7 million residents; Russia has 143 million people. While Russia, China, and the United States overall have the highest prison rates per 100,000 people, the United States has 707; Russia has 470; and China has somewhere between 124 and 172. I wonder when I will see the New York Times gleefully trumpeting this fact as part of a smug commentary on the U.S.’s backward slide.

I also wonder how many World Cup venues could be built with just the population of the Louisiana penal system.

Recognition of Palestine

According to a Gallup poll, Democrats are slowly withdrawing their support for Israel. The left-wing Slate writes of the importance of Palestinian independence. Slate’s Josh Keating mentions naughty Russia in passing because they are unlikely to recognize Kosovo, but neglects to tell its readership that the Soviet Union voted to acknowledge Palestine in 1988. It’s safe to say that this is a cause for concern for many Western liberals, as the Guardian became rather worked up over the firing of an American professor because of his pro-Palestinian stance.

Gun Control

In spite of The New Republic’s dire warnings about drunken redneck Russians shooting anyone who looks at them cross-eyed, even with the new regulations, Russian gun laws are still considered to be restrictive. Even a cursory glance at Russia’s gun policy would make many GOP voters explode with rage.

Russia places limits on the types and number of firearms citizens can own – a very significant distinction from America’s “anything goes” gun policies. Possession of shotguns and other firearms is regulated by law, and gun owners must provide documentation and a “statement from a territorial police officer that weapons can be safely kept at the applicant’s residence” to their local police department.

Russian gun owners must also obtain a gun license. Gun licenses are valid for five years and have to be renewed. Russia also does not allow the controversial practice of open carry, which most American liberals oppose. Additionally, the Russian government requires that citizens who acquire a gun for the first time not only attend firearm safety classes and pass a federal safety exam, but they must also pass a background check. Sensible gun legislation. What a backward sewer!

Of course, perhaps I am being too hard on the United States. Russia doesn’t have the National Rifle Association buying off every politician from dog catcher to members of Congress.

Abortion

It’s been brought to my attention that Russian ladies need Western feminism. I disagree. Acquiring access to family planning is central tenet of mainstream feminism. American feminists have been trying for years to get conservative Republican politicians to stop trying to restrict their access to birth control and abortion. I am not here to argue for or against abortion. I am here to tell you that abortion is free and legal in Russia, and has been for quite some time. So what would the appeal of Western feminism be for Russian women? Are they going to give them something they already have? American feminists can’t even get free abortion and they can? So Russian women need feminism for what, exactly?

While abortion has been legal in the U.S. since Roe v. Wade, individual states have passed legislation placing limits on abortion. While legislators in the Russian Duma have proposed a bill that would limit access to abortion, the proposal seeks to limit state insurance payments for abortions. This is still more generous than American abortion practices, where no public money goes to pay for abortions. As of right now, abortions are available to women over the age of 16 up to the 12 th week of pregnancy. No Russian woman seeking an abortion under her government’s health plan is required to undergo a transvaginal ultrasound.

Maternity Leave

Yes, Russian women have it rough without the vicissitudes of feminism. If only they lived in the more advanced and civilized United States, they could give up their maternity leave benefits. In fact, the United States is so far ahead of the curve in their lack of same that they are the only industrialized nation in the world that does not guarantee paid maternity leave for new mothers.

Educational Attainment

Russia has led the world in citizens with college degrees. A 2011 report by the Organization for Security and Cooperation found that 53.5% of Russian adults held a degree. Even though Russian women are not getting on board with feminism do not support FEMEN’s cultural appropriation of African protest, some of these college graduates (maybe as many as half) actually have ovaries.

Health Care

Health care continues to be a contentious issue in the U.S. Although Obamacare has lowered the percentage of uninsured adults, there are still 42 million Americans without health care. Russia, like many developed nations around the world, has universal health coverage. No, it is not perfect. Most systems like Russia’s face problems such as coverage gaps and budget shortfalls, but it is a system that Russia has had in place since Soviet times, and is a guarantee that it gives to all of its citizens. Also, did I mention there is free abortion?

Admittedly, I do not know much about the Russian health care system. They are protesting their right to hang onto their Soviet-style health care system. Although the Western media gleefully reported that Russians protested cuts in health care due to sanctions and low oil prices, I am pretty certain that citizens taking to the streets to express their displeasure with their government’s policy is a sign of a healthy democracy. Furthermore, taking sick pleasure in other people having a hard time because you don’t happen to like their leader isn’t what I would call progressive. It also doesn’t make America’s health care system any better.

The Down & Dirty

Since Russia will hopefully still be hosting the World Cup in 2018, it’s safe to assume that the Western press will continue to beat the same very dead horses they banged on about during Sochi – gay rights and Pussy Riot – because these issues take precedence over the humanitarian tragedy occurring right now in Ukraine.

Let me take my American liberal friends on a little tour, and show them why the focus on these issues is actually war propaganda. It’s very cleverly disguised war propaganda, but war propaganda nonetheless.

Gay Rights

Americans are exceptional. We know that. They are exceptionally specious when it comes to the issue of the LGBT community in Russia.

During the lead-up to the Sochi Olympics, we heard day after day after day how the “gay propaganda” law in Russia would soon lead to gay people being rounded up in cattle cars and shipped off to concentration camps in Siberia. The blame for all of this was laid at the feet of one Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin, who calmly and rationally explains his views on the subject here. Despite the fact that Putin actually does not hate gay people, the Western press forged ahead painting a picture of a Russia where homosexuals are “hunted” with the full support of the Russian public and its demonic leader. In fact, when Russia jailed anti-gay nationalist Maxim Martinskovich for his crimes, it wasn’t good enough for the Daily Beast and CNN tried to take the credit, even though Martinskovich had been on the Russian government’s radar for a while and had actually been jailed in 2007. CNN even tried to claim that before his arrest, Putin was refusing to arrest Martinskovich, conveniently leaving out the fact that Martinskovich had fled to Cuba.

Facts continue to be pesky things for the U.S.’s campaign to vilify Russia over its LGBT record. The United States does not own the patent on LGBT equality. Far from it. Several U.S. States have “no promo homo”laws that are similar to the one passed in Russia. So I guess no Olympics for Utah. Oh, wait.

The existing laws alone would make the United States look hypocritical, but the number of states proposing anti-gay laws continues to increase. Twenty-eight states have proposed laws that range from religious refusals to anti-transgender laws. Indiana infamously passed a “religious freedom” bill earlier this year, and Michigan is moving forward with an anti-gay adoption law. Michigan already has a “right to bully” law, passed in 2011. As a matter of fact, Russia’s anti-gay propaganda law is nothing compared to the laws that exist in 79 countries – some of which are U.S. allies. Here are the countries where you can die for being gay. Please note that Russia is not among them – but Saudi Arabia is. Israel restricts same-sex couples from using surrogates. Likewise, the democratic and peace-loving Ukraine is the most homophobic country in Europe. And EU candidate Georgia isn’t much better.

One doesn’t have to agree with Putin’s views on the subject, nor do they have to be particularly supportive of Russia in general to see that it is being singled out and demonized

for a policy that was passed through a democratic process. To my knowledge, the U.S. has never changed a domestic policy simply because a foreign press was whining about how unfair it was, so I am uncertain why Russia is expected to do so.

Pussy Riot

You guys cannot be serious with this. How is walking into a church, interrupting a service, going into a sacred area of said church, dancing around like five-year-olds, and scaring a bunch of little old Russian ladies brave? Or a protest? Seriously? I am all for freedom of speech and freedom of expression, but if they wanted to protest Putin I am sure they could have found a service that he actually attended. Even then, I am doubtful that he would have cared. I am not religious myself, but I believe there is such a thing as freedom of religion, and people have a right to worship in peace.

Pussy Riot calls itself a “feminist punk band.” First of all, there is nothing feminist about Pussy Riot. They are grown women in their mid-20s who don’t mind men twice their age referring to them as “girls.” Western Feminism 101 will tell you that calling grown woman a girl is degrading. Secondly, there is nothing “punk” about them. Punk is about being real, and challenging the status quo. If Pussy Riot is about being real, why did they change their name from the Russian “Bойна” to the English “Pussy Riot”? Perhaps because their intended audience is actually outside Russia?

Then there is the matter of their chosen venue. The original Cathedral of Christ the Savior was demolished by Joseph Stalin in 1931 and was rebuilt only after the fall of the Soviet Union. Considering that this church symbolizes the utter hatred of religion that was par for the course during Soviet times, it is little wonder that today’s Russians were so offended. Not only does the church have symbolic value, but the Romanovs were canonized there in 2000. It is where Yeltsin lay in state after he finally keeled over from heart failure in 2007. What exactly made them this angry that they chose this church for their protest? Were they murdered for their beliefs by Stalin? Were they shot and bayoneted to death for being the daughter of a tsar? Is this challenging status quo? Protesting in a cathedral that is charged with the weight of sad chapters in Russia’s history? Is that challenging the status quo, or being an insensitive brat?

And what exactly has the Russian Orthodox Church done to incur this ire? There have been no abuse cover-ups. There have been no sex scandals. There have been no Orthodox Christians with reality shows on TLC who pretend that their son isn’t molesting his sisters (and who maintain the support of prominent politicians). There was nothing”brave” or”heroic” about their performance, just like there was nothing brave or heroic about them throwing live stray cats at McDonald’s workers to “protest capitalism.” Personally I think they should have gone to jail for animal cruelty.

American liberals like to pretend this “song” was about Putin. There are only a couple of lines in the song that actually refer to Putin and the Patriarch. Most Western media claims they were arrested for “hooliganism” when they were charged with hooliganism motivated by religious hatred. Read that last part very carefully. The rest is about how backward they think the Orthodox church is. That’s fine if they feel that way, but I am pretty sure there is no law in Russia that demands that you join.

Americans were outraged! How dare they? How dare they what? Employ their own laws? Prosecute crimes and hand out punishment i in a manner in which they see fit? And what if this had happened in the United States? You’re telling me that the country that lost its damn mind when Miley Cyrus gesticulated with a foam finger at the”sacred” VMAs would have looked the other way if someone protested in this manner at the National Cathedral in D.C. or the Cathedral of St. John the Divine in NYC? How about you go to Boston and interrupt Sunday mass at the Cathedral of the Holy Cross? I’m sure everyone would have been totally calm. Just like everyone stayed calm when Seth MacFarlane had a potty mouth at the”solemn” Academy Awards. Or how like nobody cared when someone spray painted graffiti at a national park.

I suppose I am not an arbiter of what is and what is not acceptable speech, and what is and is not a challenge to the status quo. But I do know that, had Pussy Riot not been little white girls, maybe the American media would have called them thugs.

I know Russia isn’t perfect, and that’s not the point. But whatever issues Russia has, I feel it is always better to let a country sort these sorts of things out for themselves. Take it from me, the U.S. has plenty of problems of its own. If anything, Russia should take the U.S.’s constant nagging as a compliment. After all, this is the same country that called Nelson Mandela a terrorist.

The United States talks all the time about winning “hearts and minds.” Through the sheer preponderance of facts in their favor, Russia has won my mind. I have freely given it my heart.

A video interlude…

Life in America 1. To understand the entire picture, you have to see the ENTIRE picture, and it is not pretty. video 9MB

Life in America 2. The American government has failed it’s citizenry. It’s all one big pile of shit. video 8MB

Life in America 3. Crime is rampant and it’s every man for himself. video 1MB

China Will Overtake the US In the Course of the Next Ten Years: Max Parry

By Max Parry and Steven Sahiounie

Global Research, December 26, 2021

 The US is faced with a long list of hot-spots and tensions.  Beginning with the situation in Iraq, where the Parliament has asked the US troops to leave.  However, the US has refused a withdrawal, and instead has announced the 2,500 soldiers will be kept on the ground, but in a support mission, not combat.

The tensions between the US and Russia are at the boiling point as Washington threatens, but President Putin replies, “We didn’t come to the US or UK borders, no, they came to ours,” he said recently.

Presidents of the US and China held a virtual meeting, but did not make headway in resolving lingering US-China trade war disputes.  Trump started a trade war in 2018 which has resulted in both nations paying higher taxes to bring in goods from the opposing country.

The US and other western powers have been meeting with Iranian officials concerning renewal of the Iran nuclear deal cancelled by Trump.  Iran says the removal of sanctions is a fundamental priority, and it is not clear if the US will accept those terms.

Steven Sahiounie of MidEastDiscourse interviewed Max Parry to gain some insight into these situations which are headlines in the international news.

Max Parry is an independent journalist and geopolitical analyst based in New York.  His writing has appeared widely in alternative media, including the Center for Research on Globalization, the Unz Review, Dissident Voice, and the Greanville Post where he serves as an associate editor.  He frequently appears as a political commentator for Sputnik News and Press TV.

1. Steven Sahiounie (SS): The US military is pulling out of Iraq. In your opinion, is the Iraqi military capable of preventing an ISIS resurgence?

Max Parry (MP): First of all, the timetable for the expected drawdown of coalition troops from Iraq is still up in the air. Until now apparently, the resolution passed by the Iraqi parliament following the Soleimani assassination was completely disregarded by Washington.

Initially, the ostensible reason for the protracted reentry of foreign forces in the country was to combat Daesh (editor’s note ISIS) and that pretext for the US-led combat mission expired nearly four years ago, yet coalition forces still remain. Given the historical precedent set by American foreign policy, part of me tends to agree with the pessimistic fears that the announcement by senior US and Iraqi officials of the transition to an “advisory role” is likely just another cosmetic facelift for a continued U.S. occupation. While to some extent I am cynical that Washington has any real intention of withdrawing, the recent developments in Afghanistan arguably marked a turning point for waning US influence in the region so perhaps it is a real pullout of boots on the ground in Iraq after all.

I would note that the resurgence of Daesh, which had been mostly eliminated at the hands of the Iraqi PMU in the areas under its control unlike the former caliphate territory under U.S. occupation, began shortly after the inauguration of Joe Biden earlier this year. It also seems like whenever there is any inkling the US is going to leave the country, an ISIS terrorist attack conveniently occurs (never against the US bases though curiously) and gives the perfect excuse for Washington to remain.

Meanwhile, the U.S. frequently serves as the air force on behalf of the remnants of Daesh by targeting the PMU even as they are fighting ISIS across the border in Syria. At the end of the day, the U.S. uses Daesh as a strategic asset in the region to dominate countries like Iraq and the only hope for ISIS to be eliminated lies with the PMU, not al-Kadhimi and the Iraqi government which essentially allowed the U.S. to murder Soleimani and al-Muhandis on its territory and continuously provokes the Popular Mobilization Forces.

2. SS: The US/EU political pressure on Russia is increasing. In your opinion, how will Moscow react to this pressure?

MP: The source of the tensions between the US/EU and Moscow is the absence of a security guarantee rightfully demanded by the latter from the West, Ukraine and NATO which are leaving Russia with little choice but to take a hard line against their provocations. It is Washington which has continuously withdrawn from arms reduction treaties and NATO that has enlarged eastward despite informal pledges not to expand made to the Kremlin at the end of the Cold War. Russia has no choice but to interpret this encirclement and unfriendly course of action as hostile.

I think we could see in Ukraine what we saw in Georgia back in 2008, one of the shortest conflicts in the history of warfare, where US and Israeli-backed Georgia provoked Russia by shelling civilians in Abkhazia and South Ossetia. I believe the same kind of war crimes could occur in Donbass with Ukraine provoking Russia by escalating the conflict in Donetsk and Luhansk. After all, the Russian troop buildup on its border was triggered by Ukrainian President Zelensky’s decree stating Kiev’s intentions to retake Crimea from Russia and Donbass from the Russian-speaking separatists. I do not believe NATO is suicidal enough to directly attack Russia but I do see a potential hot war brewing between Ukraine and Russia with the West using Kiev as a cat’s paw for imperialism against Moscow.

3. SS: The Biden administration is in an economic war with China. How will this economic tension reflect on the world economy?

MP: Fundamentally, if you take a close look at Biden’s Built Back Better initiative and legislation, on a geopolitical level it is basically a counter to China’s Belt and Road infrastructure project.

For example, its framework weaponizes the issue of climate change as means to single out China and the New Silk Roads to be punished by economic warfare, namely in the form of sanctions. The U.S. geostrategy is clearly dead set on containing China’s infrastructure development and investment of the global south. Meanwhile, at the G7, the World Economic Forum, and these other Western financial institutions we’ve seen them adopt this “Build Back Better” slogan in coordinated unison for the so-called “Great Reset” or Fourth Industrial Revolution, as some call it, in the wake of the pandemic.

We can see how the US-China trade war is playing out in the realm of big tech, with the success of TikTok and U.S. attempts to designate it a threat to national security. Not to mention, there were the sanctions on Huawei. This is because China is on pace to overtake the U.S. as the preeminent country in the world not just economically but geopolitically in the next ten years and this conflict is taking shape in every aspect of the world economy. The U.S. is desperate to halt the rise of Beijing in the global arena because while it has depleted trillions from the Treasury on endless wars and wasteful military spending, domestically it has been de-industrialized and outsourced virtually all of its manufacturing overseas since the 1970s. We are truly witnessing the emergence of a multipolar world and I believe these efforts by the U.S. to keep pace with China were not made soon enough to make any difference.

4. SS: Will the Zionist Lobby in the US be successful in preventing a new nuclear deal with Iran?

MP: I don’t believe the United States is committed to a return to the JCPOA under Biden. Iran has made it abundantly clear the U.S. must lift all sanctions imposed since 2018 after the Trump administration unilaterally withdrew from the agreement. Biden has been in office nearly a year and has had ample time to make good on his campaign pledge, the ball has been in his court. Instead, we’ve only seen Washington demand further concessions from Iran regarding ballistic missiles, for example, if the agreement is to be re-implemented.

The Zionist lobby tried to sabotage the non-proliferation framework from being adopted and was instrumental in Trump’s move to kill the deal in total violation of international law. While AIPAC’s powerful influence over Washington obviously remains under the Democrats, Biden seems more concerned with using the abandonment of the JCPOA as a political football to score points against Trump and the GOP rather than follow through on returning to what was considered a foreign policy victory under Obama. I foresee a crisis coming to a head between the US and Israel which has become a pariah and total PR disaster for the U.S. where the tide of public opinion domestically is starting to turn against the Zionist entity. That said, I think we are still some ways away from any South Africa-like moment for the Palestinians, unfortunately.

5. SS: Is the Nord Stream 2 pipeline project operational? How is this affecting the relationship between Russia and the EU?

MP: Construction of the pipeline was completed but it is not yet operational, awaiting certification from Germany’s energy regulator. This has huge implications for EU-Russia relations and for the Ukraine crisis, as Ukraine is a transit country economically reliant on gas transit feeds the new pipeline would bypass. The US would also be impacted because its economic foothold in Europe would be reduced. In the midst of this, the EU and US are accusing Russia of using the pipeline and its supply of natural gas to Europe to its advantage. These factors are all behind what is driving the crisis in Ukraine and the NATO provocations in the Black Sea against Russia.

Video Interlude…

American homeless. This is NORMAL inside of America. video 8MB

American homeless 2. This is NORMAL inside of America. video 6MB

American homeless 3. This is NORMAL inside of America. video 7MB

Russia is allowing the US to overextend before the cauldron collapses around it

This article from our archives was first published on RI in June 2018

Tom Luongo Wed, Dec 22 2021 | 1430 words 27,281

It’s important for bullies to always win. Because once their weakness is exposed they can no longer be bullies.

Empires don’t start out as bullies. They start out as the reaction to the last Empire which became a bully after embracing hubris over humility.

Empires have to resort to bullying near the end because they are fundamentally weak. They all over-extend themselves through currency debasement which, in turn, degrades the cultural advantage the society had over the previous Empire.

Donald Trump knows how to bully with the best of them. I go back and forth about his status as a bully, however. He is a mercurial figure whose unpredictability is predictable.

I see him more as Loki than the typical bully. In other words, it’s probably fair to say that to Trump bullying is just another tactic.

So, as the head of the U.S., an Empire in the early stages of collapse, fundamentally weakened by two generations of empire building after the failure of Bretton Woods, Trump will bully his opposition because he knows that an Empire that is not feared is one that will soon be laughed at.

And when that happens, it’s game over.

Trump understands that the U.S. can no longer afford to pay for the post-WWII institutional order. Europe’s been rebuilt but the EU is in the process of tearing it down for the sake of globalism.

And Germany is the one benefiting on our dime.

So, if you are opposed to the Empire, regardless of your politics, seeing Trump take it to the G-7 and, in particular, Germany should be welcomed.

Where you should be worried however, is how that same bullying is being turned on Russia and Iran. In my latest article for Strategic Culture Foundation I remind everyone that none other than Mr. Realpolitik, Henry Kissinger, was advising Trump on Ukraine and Crimea in early 2017.

And after looking at the way Trump is prosecuting our relationship with Russia it’s clear to me now Kissinger had a stronger influence on Trump than anyone thought.

As the Kremlin Turns

The Left still screaming about Russia collusion are themselves delusional. Trump hasn’t been secretly doing nice things for Putin behind everyone’s back. There’s no coordination of policy between them.

I spent most of 2017 arguing with MAGA folks convinced that Trump and Putin were waging a secret war on the Deep State and the Neocons. 4-D chess arguments abounded.

When the reality was that while Trump and Putin keep in touch to ensure little direct conflict between the U.S. and Russian forces in Syria takes place, that is not evidence that Trump is soft on Russia in any way.

Not provoking a nuclear-armed country is not evidence of collusion, just functional brain cells. A statement I can’t make about most of Trump’s critics this week.

This is an operating principle which governed this week’s summit between Trump and North Korean leader Kim Jong-un as well. Trump was smart to meet with Kim, who did outmaneuver the U.S. over the past five years, by achieving nuclear-armed status.

It forced the U.S. to the table and Trump, smartly, took the opportunity to save face and choose peace.

The same thing is not on the horizon with Russia today.

The Kremlin has moved on. It would like a better relationship with Washington but it has no illusions about it happening. To Putin’s credit he has not ruled out speaking with Trump, but as Alistair Crooke points out today, there’s little good reason for him doing so.

Trump has crossed so many lines with his Kissinger-inspired policy to force Russia to abandon its relationship with China through economic and political aggression that there’s little to be gained by chatting about anything other than the weather.

Beware the Cauldron

To beat a bully you have to let him over-extend himself. He has to feel confident of your passivity in the face of his aggression. That means if you slap him in the face, he turns the other cheek.

If you attack his friends, he doesn’t attack you.

For more than a year we’ve seen these things play out around the world vis a vis Russia in Syria and in Europe. The attacks are both military, Syria and Ukraine, and financial, the Nordstream 2 pipeline.

I’ve detailed all of this at length over the past year. Putin has taken so many shots to the chin that U.S. / Russian relations bear a great resemblance to the “Rumble in the Jungle” where Mohammed Ali let George Foreman punish him for round after round, expending himself in a futile attempt to knock Ali out.

And once Foreman’s arms felt like lead and his legs like Jello, Ali struck so hard and so fast that he stunned the world.

Russian military strategy is dominated by this type of thinking. Lure your opponent in. Create a weak spot and allow him to attack it over and over. Invite the chaos. Allow him to think he is winning.

So here’s where we are today:

If Trump is successful in getting Germany to cower before his sanctions regime that will, in turn, put Iran under heavy pressure financially and socially.
That may yet lead to a formal withdrawal of IRGC Quds forces from Syria. Yet another win.
But, it will only happen if the U.S. leaves the border crossing at Al-Tanf. Small pirce to pay.
Germany’s government is on increasingly shaky grounds as AfD are making her life miserable in the Bundestag and her partner Horst Seehofer of the CSU, as Interior Minister is openly defying her over migrant policy.
The U.S. negotiates a deal with Turkey to control Manbij, possibly to undermine Russia’s relationship with Erdogan, keeping the Turks in Syria to complicate peace talks.
Military conflict in Ukraine likely in the next few weeks with the UAF attacking the Donbass and an incident in the Sea of Azov.
This supports a failing Poroshenko government in trouble before the election and sucker Putin into direct support which can justify more sanctions and keeping the EU on board because of “Russian Aggression” and “Not supporting the Minsk process.”
Trump is openly tying sanctions and trade normalization with the Nordstream 2 pipeline in brazen mafia-style negotiating tactics further complicating Merkel’s life.
Five more Russian companies were sanctioned this week over ‘cyber attacks.’
He’s openly threatening major multinationals who do business in the U.S. for being a part of Nordstream 2.

I think you get the point. I could go on for another page or two.

Closing the Trap

The point is that this is classic bullying behavior. Trump is pot-committed, as poker-players say, to this policy.

Once you start with sanctions and threats, you can’t stop. It’s go all the way or have your bluff called. With Europe Trump holds aces. They are dependent on the U.S. and their weakness will be the U.S.’s gain over the next year or two. Europe’s sovereign debt crisis will explode and the U.S. will see massive foreign in-flows.

It’ll be a massive win but it won’t be the win. And in winning over Europe it sets him up for the big loss; the fight for the Middle East and Eurasian integration.

His gambit with Russia and Iran becoming an all-or-nothing proposition. Trump has just about pushed all-in. Russia/Iran/China’s passivity has emboldened him. The fecklessness of the Obama administration creating dumpster fires in Ukraine and Syria, however, handed him bad cards and a dwindling stack.

He hasn’t won a hand in the Middle East yet. Sure he’s made headlines but Putin, Rouhani, Nasrallah and Assad have won all the skirmishes that matter. Any wins Trump has gotten were easy ones to pick up. The framework for a deal has always been the same. And no amount of Kissinger-style complications were going to change them.

Iran no more wants to stay in Syria than Putin wants to intervene in The Donbass. So, getting Iran out of Syria is easy. All Trump has to do is leave. Israel won’t like it, but it won’t be their decision. Putin made that clear to Netanyahu when he visited Moscow.

The Kurds are the ones to make that decision for Trump, now that they are openly negotiating with Damascus after Trump backstabbed them over Manbij.

Without the support of the Kurds, the U.S. cannot stay in Syria at all.

So, when we reach the showdown hand Trump won’t have aces. And the classic Russian cauldron will collapse in around him. And losing there will be the end of the U.S. empire abroad.

And the world will rejoice.

Now that its aircraft carrier fleet, global ABM systems, and NATO has been rendered useless, the US can get on with dismantling its entire bloated, over-stretched, global network of military bases.

This article from our archives was first published on RI in March 2018

Dmitry Orlov (Club Orlov) Fri, Dec 17 2021 | 3400 words 16,944

A lot of people seem to have lost the thread when it comes to nuclear weapons. They think that nuclear weapons are like other weapons, and are designed to be used in war. But this is pure mental inertia.

According to all the evidence available, nuclear weapons are anti-weapons, designed to prevent weapons, nuclear or otherwise, from being used. In essence, if used correctly, nuclear weapons are war suppression devices. Of course, if used incorrectly, they pose a grave risk to all life on Earth. There are other risks to all life on Earth as well, such as runaway global warming from unconstrained burning of hydrocarbons; perhaps we need to invent a weapon or two to prevent that as well.

Some people feel that the mere existence of nuclear weapons guarantees that they will be used as various nuclear-armed countries find themselves financially, economically and politically in extremis.

As “proof” of this, they trot out the dramaturgical principle of Chekhov’s Gun.

Anton Chekhov wrote: “Если вы говорите в первой главе, что на стене висит ружье, во второй или третьей главе оно должно непременно выстрелить. А если не будет стрелять, не должно и висеть.»” [“If you say in Act I that there is a gun hanging on the wall, then it is a must that in Act II or III it be fired. And if it won’t be fired, it shouldn’t have been hung there in the first place.”]

And if you point out that we are talking about military strategy and geopolitics, not theater, they then quote Shakespeare’s “All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances…” and believe that it is QED. Now, I happen to agree wholeheartedly with Chekhov, when it comes to dramaturgy, and I agree with the Bard as well, provided we define “the world” as “the world of theater,” from which the worlds of geopolitics and nuclear physics are both dramatically different.

Let me explain it in terms that a drama major would understand. If there is a nuclear bomb hanging on the wall in Act I, then, chances are, it will still be hanging on that wall during the final curtain call. In the meantime, no matter how many other weapons are present on stage during the play, you can be sure that none of them would be used. Or maybe they will be, but then the entire audience would be dead, in which case you should definitely ask for your money back because this was billed as a family-friendly show.

Back in the real world, it is hard to argue that nukes haven’t been useful as deterrents against both conventional and nuclear war. When the Americans dropped nuclear bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, they only did this because they could do so with complete impunity. Had Japan, or an ally of Japan, possessed nuclear weapons at the time, these attacks would not have taken place. There is a considerable body of opinion that the Americans didn’t nuke Japan in order to secure a victory (the Japanese would have surrendered regardless) but to send a message to Joseph Stalin. Stalin got the message, and Soviet scientists and engineers got cracking.

There was an uncomfortable period, before the USSR successfully tested their first atomic bomb, when the Americans were seriously planning to destroy all major Soviet cities using a nuclear strike, but they set these plans aside because they calculated that they didn’t have enough nukes at the time to keep the Red Army from conquering all of Western Europe in retaliation. But in August 29, 1949, when the USSR tested its first atomic bomb, these plans were set aside—not quite permanently, it would later turn out—because even a singular nuclear detonation as a result of a Soviet response to an American first strike, wiping out, say, New York or Washington, would have been too high a price to pay for destroying Russia.

Since then—continuously except for a period between 2002 and two days ago—the ability of nuclear weapons to deter military aggression has remained unquestioned. There were some challenges along the way, but they were dealt with. The Americans saw it fit to threaten the USSR by placing nuclear missiles in Turkey; in response, the USSR placed nuclear missiles in Cuba. The Americans didn’t think that was fair, and the result was the Cuban Missile Crisis. Eventually the Americans were prevailed upon to stand down in Turkey, and the Soviets stood down in Cuba. Another threat to the deterrent power of nuclear weapons was the development of anti-ballistic weapons that could shoot down nuclear-tipped missiles (just the ballistic ones; more on that later). But this was widely recognized to be a bad thing, and a major breakthrough came in 1972, when the USA and the USSR signed the Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty.

Over this entire period, the principle that kept the peace was Mutual Assured Destruction: neither side would provoke the other to the point of launching a nuclear strike, because such a move was guaranteed to be suicidal. The two sides were reduced to fighting a series of proxy wars in various countries around the world, which were so much the worse for it, but there was no danger of these proxy conflicts erupting into a full-scale nuclear conflagration.

In the meantime, everybody tried to oppose nuclear proliferation, preventing more countries from obtaining access to nuclear weapons technology—with limited success. The cases where these efforts failed testify to the effective deterrent value of nuclear weapons. Saddam Hussein of Iraq didn’t have any “weapons of mass destruction” and ended up hung. Muammar Qaddafi of Libya voluntarily gave up his nuclear program, and ended up tortured to death.

But Pakistan managed to acquire nuclear weapons, and as a result its relations with its traditional nemesis India have become much more polite and cooperative, to the point that in June of 2017 both became full members of Shanghai Cooperation Organization, along with China, Russia and other Eurasian nations. And then North Korea has made some breakthroughs with regard to nuclear bombs and ballistic missiles, and as a result of that the US has been reduced to posturing and futile threats against it while South Korea has expressed some newfound respect for its northern neighbor and is now seeking rapprochement.

In 2002 the prospect of continued nuclear deterrence was set a major setback when the US pulled out of the ABM treaty. Russia protested this move, and promised an asymmetrical response. American officials ignored this protest, incorrectly thinking that Russia was finished as a nuclear power. Since then, the Americans spent prodigious amounts of money—well into the trillions of dollars—building a ballistic missile defense system. Their goal was simple: make it possible to launch a first strike on Russia, destroying much of its nuclear arsenal; then use the new American ABM systems to destroy whatever Russia does manage to launch in response. On February 2, 2018 the Americans decided that they were ready, and issued a Nuclear Posture Review in which they explicitly reserved the right to use nuclear weapons to prevent Russia from using its nuclear deterrent.

And then, two days ago, all of that came to a happy end when Vladimir Putin gave a speech in which he unveiled several new weapons systems that completely negate the value of US missile defense shield—among other things. That was the response the Russians promised to deliver when the US pulled out of the ABM treaty in 2002. Now, 16 years later, they are done. Russia has rearmed with new weapons that have rendered the ABM treaty entirely irrelevant.

The ABM treaty was about ballistic missiles—once that are propelled by rockets that boost the missile to close to escape velocity. After that the missile follows a ballistic trajectory—just like an artillery shell or a bullet. That makes its path easy to calculate and the missile easy to intercept. The US missile defense systems rely on the ability to see the missile on radar, calculate its position, direction and velocity, and to launch a missile in response in such a way that the two trajectories intersect. When they cross, the interceptor missile is detonated, knocking out the attacking missile.

None of the new Russian weapons follow ballistic trajectories. The new Sarmat is an ICBM minus the “B”—it maneuvers throughout its flight path and can fly through the atmosphere rather than popping up above it. It has a short boost phase, making it difficult to intercept after launch. It has the range to fly arbitrary paths around the planet—over the south pole, for instance—to reach any point on Earth. And it carries multiple maneuverable hypersonic nuclear-armed reentry vehicles which no existing or planned missile defense system can intercept.

Among other new weapons unveiled two days ago was a nuclear-powered cruise missile which has virtually unlimited range and goes faster than Mach 10, and a nuclear-powered drone submarine which can descend to much larger depths than any existing submarine and moves faster than any existing vessel. There was also a mobile laser cannon in the show, of which very little is known, but they are likely to come in handy when it comes to frying military satellites. All of these are based on physical principles that have never been used before. All of these have passed testing and are going into production; one of them is already being used on active combat duty in the Russian armed forces.

The Russians are now duly proud of their scientists, engineers and soldiers. Their country is safe again; Americans have been stopped in their tracks, their new Nuclear Posture now looking like a severe case of lordosis. This sort of pride is more important than it would seem. Advanced nuclear weapons systems are a bit like secondary sexual characteristics of animals: like the peacock’s tail or the deer’s antlers or the lion’s mane, they are indicative of the health and vigor of a specimen that has plenty of spare energy to expend on showy accessories.

In order to be able to field a hypersonic nuclear-powered cruise missile with unlimited range, a country has to have a healthy scientific community, lots of high-powered engineers, a highly trained professional military and a competent security establishment that can keep the whole thing secret, along with an industrial economy powerful and diverse enough to supply all of the necessary materials, processes and components with zero reliance on imports. Now that the arms race is over, this new confidence and competence can be turned to civilian purposes.

So far, the Western reaction to Putin’s speech has closely followed the illogic of dreams which Sigmund Freud explained using the following joke:

1. I never borrowed a kettle from you
2. I returned it to you unbroken
3. It was already broken when I borrowed it from you.

A more common example is a child’s excuse for not having done her homework: I lost it; my dog ate it; I didn’t know it was assigned.

In this case, Western commentators have offered us the following:

1. There are no such weapons; Putin is bluffing
2. These weapons exist but they don’t really work
3. These weapons work and this is the beginning of a new nuclear arms race

Taking these one at a time:

1. Putin is not known to bluff; he is known for doing exactly what he says he will do. He announced that Russia will deliver an asymmetric response to the US pulling out of the ABM treaty; and now it has.

2. These weapons are a continuation of developments that already existed in the USSR 30 years ago but had been mothballed until 2002. What has changed since then was the development of new materials, which make it possible to build vehicles that fly at above Mach 10, with their skin heating up to 2000ºC, and, of course, dramatic improvements in microelectronics, communications and artificial intelligence. Putin’s statement that the new weapons systems are going into production is an order: they are going into production.

3. Most of Putin’s speech wasn’t about military matters at all. It was about such things as pay increases, roads, hospitals and clinics, kindergartens, nurseries, boosting retirements, providing housing to young families, streamlining the regulation of small businesses, etc. That is the focus of the Russian government for the next six years: dramatically improving the standard of living of the population. The military problem has already been resolved, the arms race has been won, and Russia’s defense budget is being reduced, not increased.

Another line of thought in the West was that Putin unveiled these new weapons, which have been in development for 16 years at least, as part of his reelection campaign (the vote is on March 18). This is absurd. Putin is assured of victory because the vast majority of Russians approve of his leadership. The elections have been about jockeying for a second place position between the Liberal Democrats, led by the old war horse Vladimir Zhirinovsky, and the Communists, who have nominated a non-communist oligarch businessman Pavel Grudinin, who has promptly disqualified himself by failing to disclose foreign bank accounts and other improprieties and now appears to have gone into hiding. Thus, the Communists, who were previously slated for second place, have burned themselves down and Zhirinovsky will probably come in second. If Americans don’t like Putin, then they definitely wouldn’t like Zhirinovsky. Putin is practical and ambivalent about “our Western partners,” as he likes to call them. Zhirinovsky, on the other hand, is rather revenge-minded, and seems to want to inflict pain on them.

At the same time, there is now a committee, composed of very serious-looking men and women, who are charged with monitoring and thwarting American meddling in Russian politics. It seems unlikely that the CIA, the US State Department and the usual culprits will be able to get away with much in Russia. The age of color revolutions is over, and the regime change train has sailed… all the way back to Washington, where Trump stands a chance of getting dethroned Ukrainian-style.

Another way to look at the Western reaction to Russia’s new weapons is using Elizabeth Kübler-Ross’s stages of grief. We already saw denial (Putin is bluffing; weapons don’t work) and the start of anger (new arms race). We should expect a bit more anger before moving on to bargaining (you can have the Ukraine if you stop building Sarmat). Once the response comes back (“You broke the Ukraine; you pay to get it fixed”) we move on to depression (“The Russians just don’t love us any more!”) and, finally, acceptance. Once the stage of acceptance is reached, here is what the Americans can usefully do in response to Russia’s new weapons systems.

First of all, Americans can scrap their ABM systems because they are now useless. Russia’s Defense Minister Sergei Shoigu had this to say about it: «То, что сегодня создаётся в Польше и Румынии, создаётся на Аляске и предполагается к созданию в Южной Корее и Японии — этот “зонтик” противоракетной обороны, получается, “дырявый”. И не знаю, зачем за такие деньги теперь этот “зонтик” им приобретать.» [“What is being built in Poland and Romania, and in Alaska, and is planned in South Korea and Japan—this missile defense ‘umbrella’—turns out to be riddled with holes. I don’t know why they should now buy this ‘umbrella’ for so much money.”]

Secondly, Americans can scrap their aircraft carrier fleet. All it’s useful now for now is threatening defenseless nations, but there are much cheaper ways to threaten defenseless nations. If Americans are still planning to use them to dominate sea lanes and control world trade, then the existence of hypersonic cruise missiles with unlimited range and drone submarines that can lurk at great ocean depths for years make the world’s oceans off-limits for American navy’s battle groups in the event of any major (non-nuclear) escalation because now Russia can destroy them from an arbitrary distance without putting any of their assets or personnel at risk.

Lastly, Americans can pull out of NATO, which has now been shown to be completely useless, dismantle their thousand military bases around the world, and repatriate the troops stationed there. It’s not as if, in light of these new developments, American security guarantees are going to be worth much to anyone, and America’s “allies” will be quick to realize that. As far as Russian security guarantees, there is a lot on offer: unlike the US, which is increasingly seen as a rogue state—and an ineffectual and blundering one at that—Russia has been scrupulous in adhering to its international agreements and international law. In developing and deploying its new weapons systems, Russia has not violated any international agreements, treaties or laws. And Russia has no aggressive plans towards anyone except terrorists. As Putin put it during his speech, «Мы ни на кого не собираемся нападать и что-то отнимать. У нас у самих всё есть.» [“We are not planning to attack anyone or take over anywhere. We have everything we need.”]

I hope that the US doesn’t plan to attack anyone either, because, given its recent history, this won’t work. Threatening the whole planet and forcing it to use the US dollar in international trade (and destroying countries, such as Iraq and Libya, when they refuse); running huge trade deficits with virtually the entire world and forcing reserve banks around the world to buy up US government debt; leveraging that debt to run up colossal budget deficits (now around a trillion dollars a year); and robbing the entire planet by printing money and spending it on various corrupt schemes—that, my friends, has been America’s business plan since around the 1970s. And it is unraveling before our eyes.

I have the audacity to hope that the dismantling of the American Empire will proceed as copacetically as the dismantling of the Soviet Empire did. (This is not to say that it won’t be humiliating or impoverishing, or that it won’t be accompanied by a huge increase in morbidity and mortality.) One of my greatest fears over the past decade was that Russia wouldn’t take the US and NATO seriously enough and just try to wait them out. After all, what is there to really to fear from a nation that has over a 100 trillion dollars in unfunded entitlements, that’s full of opioid addicts, with 100 million working-age people permanently out of work, with decrepit infrastructure and poisoned national politics? And as far as NATO, there is, of course, Germany, which is busy rewriting “Deutschland, Deutschland, über alles” to be gender-neutral. What are they supposed to do next? March on Moscow under a rainbow banner and hope that the Russians die laughing? Oh, and there’s also NATO’s largest Eurasian asset, Turkey, which is currently busy slaughtering America’s Kurdish assets in Northern Syria.

But simply waiting them out would have been a gamble, because in its death throes the American Empire could have lashed out in unpredictable ways. I am glad that Russia chose not to gamble with its national security. Now that the US has been safely checkmated using the new Russian weapons systems, I feel that the world is in a much better place. If you like peace, then it seems like your best option is to also like nukes—the best ones possible, ones against which no deterrent exists, and wielded by peaceful, law-abiding nations that have no evil designs on the rest of the planet.

A video interlude again…

Video of American shuttered stores. video 36MB

China does innovate. That’s a fact. Video 28MB

The Future is with China. Video 3MB

Poking the Russian Bear: US-NATO Aggression and Russia’s Red Line

By Timothy Alexander Guzman

Global Research, December 26, 2021

On November 30^th, a report published by Reuters ‘Putin warns Russia will act if NATO crosses its red lines in Ukraine’ said that Putin mentioned what is at stake if NATO expands eastward while they deployed the Aegis Ashore missile defense systems in Poland and Romania:

The Russian leader, who questioned why NATO had ignored repeated Russian warnings and expanded its military infrastructure eastwards, singled out the deployment in Poland and Romania of the Aegis Ashore missile defence system. He made it clear he did not want to see the same launch MK41 systems, which Russia has long complained can be used to also launch offensive Tomahawk cruise missiles, in Ukraine.

“Creating such threats (in Ukraine) would be red lines for us. But I hope it doesn’t come to that. I hope that a sense of common sense, responsibility for both our countries and the world community will prevail,” said Putin

To make matters worse, US senators from the Republican party submitted a bill that calls for $450 million in military aid to the Ukraine with new sanctions on the Nord Stream 2 project. The bill will also label Russia a “state sponsor of terrorism” according to a December 18^th report from rt.com, ‘Russia reacts to US ‘state sponsor of terrorism threat’:

On Wednesday, eight American Republican party senators submitted a bill, speculatively titled the ‘GUARD Act’, containing a range of measures designed to support Kiev. The proposed legislation would authorize an additional $450 million in military aid and impose new sanctions on Nord Stream 2, the recently constructed pipeline that will bring Russian gas to Europe through the Baltic Sea, which Ukraine and the US have strongly opposed.

The bill would also officially designate Russia as a “state sponsor of terrorism” if Moscow advances militarily on its eastern European neighbor. In recent weeks, American and Ukrainian intelligence services have accused the Kremlin of “aggressive actions” on the border with Ukraine, including troop buildup, and said they suspected a Russian invasion could be in the works

Another important article from rt.com ‘China & Russia are ready to end US dominance of global finance’said that Russia and China are on the way to bypass the US dollar:

A financial partnership between China and Russia, the world’s largest energy importer and the world’s largest energy exporter, is an indispensable instrument for dethroning the petrodollar. In 2015, approximately 90% of trade between Russia and China was settled in dollars, and by 2020, dollar-denominated trade between the two Eurasian giants had almost reduced by half, with only 46% of trade in dollars. Russia has also been leading the way in cutting the share of US dollars in its foreign reserves. The mechanisms for de-dollarizing China-Russia trade are also used to end the use of the greenback with third parties – with advancements being seen in places such as Latin America, Turkey, Iran, India, etc. The US has been pumping out dollars to the entire world for decades, and at some point, the tide will change as the sea of dollars return home with increasingly diminished value

Russia and China has also been working on alternatives to the SWIFT system:

The SWIFT system for financial transactions between banks worldwide was previously the only system for international payments. This central role for SWIFT began to erode when the US used it as a political weapon. The Americans first expelled Iran and North Korea, and in 2014, Washington began threatening to expel Russia from the system as well. Over the past few weeks, the threat of using SWIFT as a weapon against Russia has intensified.

China has responded by creating CIPS and Russia developed SPFS, both being alternatives to SWIFT. Even several other European countries have banded together with an alternative to SWIFT to curb Washington’s extra-territorial jurisdiction and thus continue trading with Iran. A new China-Russia financial architecture should integrate CIPS and SPFS, and make them more available to third parties. If the US expels Russia, then the decoupling from SWIFT would intensify further

The US wants its dollar to remain king by any means necessary. One of the main reasons Washington went to war with Iraq was not only about oil, it was because Saddam Hussein had switched from selling oil in US dollars to accepting payments in Euros as retribution for US sanctions. In Libya, Muammar Gaddafi was overthrown and murdered by US-backed forces because he was creating an alternative currency which was a gold-backed African dinar to replace U.S. dollars and Euros in the African continent.

A recent press conference, the US president and liberal war hawk, Joe Biden was asked about what consequences Russia would face if they invaded Ukraine’s territory. The liberal cheerleaders for war at CNN have been reporting what US and European leaders have been up to in regards to planning harsh sanctions on Russia because it’s President, Vladimir Putin is misbehaving, therefore punishment must be served by the American empire, So how dare you Vlad for wanting to protect your country!, “the kinds of costs the US and European allies are discussing for Russia are “designed to be implemented very, very fast,” the official said, without detailing what those measures would be. “That is partly why we have chosen the measures that we are working on.” One of their actions is most likely to cut Russia off the Swift payment system since the US dollar is still the world’s reserve currency for the moment. “The Biden administration has repeatedly said there will be severe economic consequences. Biden’s national security adviser Jake Sullivan also made clear last week there will be further US defensive military support for Ukraine as well as US support for NATO countries on the eastern flank of Russia invades Ukraine”, continued:

I’ve made it absolutely clear to President Putin,” Biden said. “If he moves on Ukraine, the economic consequences for his economy are going to be devastating. Devastating, number one. Number two, we will find it required that we’ll have to send more American and NATO troops into the Eastern Flank, the (Bucharest) 9, all those NATO countries where we have a sacred obligation to defend them against any attack by Russia. And number three, the impact of all of that on Russia and his attitude, the rest of the world, his view of Russia would change markedly. He’ll pay a terrible price

In early December, rt.com also has been documenting what’s been happening with the Ukraine’s decision to recklessly build-up its troop levels in the Donbass region which is a clear threat to Russia’s security concerns:

Ukraine has now stationed well over 100,000 troops and large quantities of hardware in the war-torn Donbass region, the Russian Foreign Ministry alleged on Wednesday morning, amid rising tensions. Speaking at a briefing on Wednesday, diplomatic spokeswoman Maria Zakharova claimed that “the Armed Forces of Ukraine are increasing [their] military force, pulling heavy equipment and personnel.”

“According to some reports, the number of troops… in the conflict zone already reaches 125,000 people, and this, if anyone does not know, is half of the entire composition of the Armed Forces of Ukraine,” she said. Zakharova also condemned Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky for submitting a bill to the national parliament that would allow units from foreign armed forces to enter the country as part of multinational exercises next year. According to her, such a move directly contradicts the Minsk agreement, signed in 2014 in a bid to end the fighting between Kiev’s forces and troops loyal to two self-declared breakaway republics

What’s even more dangerous is the talk of a first-strike option with nuclear weapons against Russia by Mississippi’s high-ranking member of the Senate Armed Services Committee, Senator Roger Wicker as reported by FOX news:

Sen. Wicker made the startling comment during an on-air interview where he was asked about the escalating situation abroad. Wicker, who sits on the Senate Armed Services Committee, said that he is ruling nothing out as a potential response to defend Ukraine’s sovereignty against Russia and its leader, President Vladimir Putin. “I would not rule out American troops on the ground,” Wicker said, adding, that “We don’t rule out first-use nuclear action”

Let’s make something clear, if the US and Europe are considering a war against Russia through Ukraine, it can escalate into another nuclear standoff reminiscent of the 1962 Cuban Missile crisis.

Russia is well-prepared for an all-out war with the west because they know that the American empire will not quit until they submit to Washington’s demands. Russia is ready, they learned a long-time ago when they were the former Soviet Union during World War II when more than 27 million Russian civilians and soldiers lost their lives fighting Nazi Germany within their borders. Washington is backing Ukraine’s aggressive behavior which will bring them closer to war with Russia. Although I believe cooler heads will prevail, anything at this point in time can happen with an out of control empire worried about losing their control over the planet. The US has its back against the wall, the question is what will they do knowing that Russia and China have the military capabilities including their new hypersonic missiles that can hit the US mainland at anytime.

The US-NATO forces would not prevail on a multi-front war with Russia and China, they should have learned a lesson in Afghanistan with the Taliban who had by far, a less-developed fighting force than Russia or China but had managed to defeat US-NATO forces after 20 years of conflict. Washington and the Pentagon knows deep down that defeating Russia, China and the rest of their adversaries will be a difficult mission, but it seems that the psychopaths in Washington and Brussels live in a fantasy land and believe they can win this coming war. Let’s hope it don’t get that far because it would be disastrous for the entire world.

END OF PART 2

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Russian commentaries on the collapsing United States (with some MM commentary as well) 1 of 3

One of the things that I really love about China is the speed and convenience of everything. Facial recognition, QR scans and payments, instant thermal scans and observation, not to mention the zero fees on all financial transactions. It’s really a fiscal paradise.

By big treat is to open up wechat, scan my local supermarket for sales on wine, and then face scan to pay and in ten minutes it’s delivered to my door stop. That would NEVER happen in the USA. Never.

But I do miss some things. Don’t you know.

I will tell you all that I truly miss an original “New York Style” pizza. You just cannot get it anywhere outside of the USA. And when I read the sad, sad news that the price of a slice is going to increase, well I must tell you, it caused a dark pit to form in my stomach.

Such is change.

What’s the matter with the moronic “leadership” in Washington DC today? Can’t they “get it”? You spend like crazy and eventually you and your families are substantially devalued. Your lifestyle decreases, and the value of the cash in your wallet turns to dust. Or maybe slime. Ooozy slime.

Pizza.

What’s the matter with these morons?

Long time MM readers will understand about the current Geo-political situation. As of December 2021, both Russia and China has had enough of the United States efforts to start world War III, and so they laid down terms.

China was first with “red lines” which America pretty much ignored, followed by Russia which laid down ultimatums.

People (!) facts need to be stated. Russia and China would not do this unless they had a firm “check mate” on the tarmac and ready to go.

Yikes!

This article consists of a bunch of articles from China and Russia concerning the Geo-political scene. It consists of some articles dating as far back as 2017 (at the start of the Trump presidency) and includes others that are more recent.

This is part 1 of three parts.

All in all, you can plainly see that the rest of the world considers the collapsing American government to be ruled by absolute idiots that need to be “put to sleep” (which is a eutheism that means killed humanely) lest a global conflagration engulfs the world and destroys everything.

I post it here because of some insanity comments out of the United States on MM here. Somehow one or two of my articles got passed around some American Conservative websites that the comments reflected a Hal Turner, Rush Limbaugh (dead) and FOX “news” viewpoint. Totally unaware of where they are, or what this site represents. They just skim read, skim comment, and depart.

The mind control apparatus is really in full swing there. And the people are just spouting insane nonsense.

So here is what the rest of the world is saying about the USA. No “America is not back” It’s dying…

The U.S. doesn’t have diplomats any more. Their foreign policy is “steal it, kill those who resist”. 

Of course there will be no negotiation. 

In any meeting they will do what they do best: use many words and try to confuse whoever is in the room, all the while watching for an opportunity to steal something.

Russia knows this. I’ve got my popcorn ready.

-Patrick

But before we get to the Geo-political nonsense, let’s talk about pizza.

I mean to say, I wonder if the “leadership” of the United States, in their quest to (so called) defend “democracy” actually eating pizza. I suspect that they are way too busy having their servants cook healthy and delicious foods such as steak and caviar for them instead of eating the kinds of food that us “normal’s” eat.

I just cannot picture Blinkedin eating a Big Mac. Can you?

Here’s a homemade attempt at a New York Style pizza. ‘ll bet that the elites in Washington DC doesn’t even know what this actually is…

Well, I’ll tell you what…

These Jack-asses in the “leadership” roles inside of the “United States” are morons and are so disconnected from reality that I sincerely and truly doubt that they know the difference between a Big Mac and a Whopper. As I really doubt it. Truth this!

And a whopper…

Sigh.

They are probably too busy drinking their Chardonnay and eating their escargot to worry about how their actions influence the rest of the world. Well, boys and girls, a day of reckoning is fast approaching. Don’t you all know.

Washington Prepares to Fail in Ukraine

This chapter will not end well for President Biden or Washington’s political class.

December 23, 2021

Douglas Macgregor

It’s an indisputable fact: Washington leads the world in self-delusion.

Washington’s political class is poised to march into a hurricane of its own making in Ukraine, a perfect storm of foreign- and defense-policy blunders likely to plunge the American people into future crises and conflicts. Having refused to acknowledge Russia’s vital strategic interest in Ukraine, Washington now wants to subject Ukraine and the NATO alliance to a dangerous and unnecessary test by confronting Russian conventional military power. In turn, Washington and its allies now face a test—one that they could have avoided but are now likely to fail. First, the facts.

The Biden administration is spending $768.2 billion for national defense. Russia spends only $42.1 billion, less than the $48 billion spent by the Republic of Korea. Yet Russian ground forces are superior in capability and striking power to the U.S. Army and Marines, even if both countries’ ground forces were able to deploy to Ukraine.

Russia’s conventional-ground-force superiority stems, in part, from the strategic advantage of fighting close to Russia. Its potency is also a reflection of President Vladimir Putin’s insistence on fundamental defense reform and reorganization. The reform process involved years of struggle to expel old generals who resisted change and install new, resolute fighting forces, composed of young, single men with a profound sense of Russian patriotism and toughness. The policy has resulted in an operationally flexible grouping of smaller capability-based Russian fighting formations, designed to ruthlessly exploit the striking power of Russia’s rocket artillery, tactical ballistic missiles, and loitering munitions.

Far to the west and behind the Polish border sits an awkward collection of U.S. Army and NATO Ground Forces that, despite decades of cooperation, are still challenged to fight effectively as one force. In the last 20 years of operations in Afghanistan and Iraq, most of America’s allies seldom had anything to contribute to our efforts, save a flag and inexperienced troops who were forced to operate under political restrictions. Thus, like the U.S. Army that leads them, the allied ground forces cling to the illusion that NATO can fight future conflicts on land the way Anglo-American allies did during World War II—with large, densely packed divisions, corps, and armies. These are lucrative targets for Russian strike formations.

Additionally, institutional policies to impose diversity and inclusion on the U.S. Armed Forces at the expense of demonstrated character, competence, and intelligence, demoralize our troops. As a result, the dedication, cohesion, and pride of achievement required to sustain America’s professional fighting force have been seriously damaged.

The implications are clear: A U.S.-Russian confrontation in Eastern Ukraine could easily resemble the 1940 Anglo-French experience, with the Wehrmacht provoking a serious backlash at home. Supply-chain bottlenecks, consumer-goods inflation, and soaring energy costs could all worsen if events in Ukraine spiral out of control. As more and more Americans wake up to falling standards of living, how will they react to yet another war for suspicious aims that have absolutely nothing to do with their own vital strategic interests, and make their daily lives even harder?

Reality is sitting on Ukraine’s eastern border, not in the South China Sea or in the strait of Taiwan, and there is ostensibly nothing Washington can do about it. The questions that should concern Washington’s political class are: Will NATO survive its ignominious retreat in the face of superior Russian military power? And, why is Washington conducting policy not from strength, but from weakness—a weakness thus far disguised by the outward show of military power against weak opponents without armies, air defenses, or air forces?

Nietzsche said, “War makes the victor stupid.” After 1991, America’s senior military and political leaders found many reasons to spend enormous sums on defense, but no reason to change the way U.S. forces fight, or to devise a national military strategy tied to tangible, concrete interests and the preservation of American national power.

As John Kenneth Galbraith warned, “People of privilege will always risk their complete destruction rather than surrender any material part of their advantage. Intellectual myopia, often called stupidity, is no doubt a reason. But the privileged also feel that their privileges, however egregious they may seem to others, are a solemn, basic, God-given right.”

Washington’s corrupt and morally bankrupt leaders are walking into a minefield. If they embroil U.S. and allied forces in Ukraine, extraordinary discontent at home and abroad awaits them. However, like so many privileged classes before them, the Biden administration may prefer “complete destruction” rather than acknowledge that its most cherished beliefs are utter delusions. It’s safe to say that whatever happens in Ukraine, this chapter will not end well for President Biden or Washington’s political class.

Here’s a video!

America’s spending priorities are all fucked up! video 8MB

Insanity.

And it is, don’t you know.

Let’s talk about reality…

While the American elite oligarchy are busy eating their fine delicious foods, indulging in fun pursuits, the rest of America suffers. Their solution? To destroy the rest of the world for personal profit. And let the American citizens waste away in what ever conditions that remain. video 3MB.

The TRUE face of America.

As a German I am not happy at all. 

The MSM here is fiercely propagating the “Russia,China-bad, EU/USA/UK-good” narrative. 

They employ the usual agitprop techniques: the enemy has to be personified and then demonized, the ally generalized and blessed. And thus it’s almost always Putin, and almost always the USA, the EU etc.
Other techniques include not telling full stories, of which Ukraine is the best example. There is ZERO mentioning of UKR being a de-facto Neonazi Junta.
And so on and forth.
I am actually deeply afraid that our leaders gave “simply gone insane” and believe that the usual MO will continue forever. 

That is exploitation and gradual erosion of other countries to supply the locust-capitalism of the USA-dominated world. My parents believed in socialism of the GDR. It’s good that they are dead already. 

-Darkmoon

Sad. So sad.

Shocking facts and statistics about how corrupt the US economy has become.

This article from our archives was first published on RI in December 2018

Michael Snyder (End of the American Dream) Fri, Nov 12 2021 | 1200 words 14,399 Comments

Editor's Note: This is manifestly true in telecommunications as amply demonstrated in Thursday's article: Russia: $10/Month for Superfast Broadband, in US $70 for Slower Speeds - Survey of 195 Countries. At America's tech leader and having the biggest economy, cellular and internet access should be the cheapest in the world, instead it is the most expensive, and it doesn't work as well. Another article the same day addresses the problem from a different perspective - Conservatives have swallowed the (((free trade))) ideology hook, line, and sinker: Conservatives' Obsession With Free Markets Is Foolish, and Not at all Conservative.

Vibrant competition is absolutely essential in order for a capitalist economic system to function effectively. Unfortunately, in the United States today we are witnessing the death of competition in industry after industry as the biggest corporations increasingly gobble up all of their competitors.

John D. Rockefeller famously once said that “competition is a sin”, and he was one of America’s very first oligopolists. According to Google, an oligopoly is “a state of limited competition, in which a market is shared by a small number of producers or sellers”, and that is a perfect description of the current state of affairs in many major industries. In early America, corporations were greatly limited in scope, and in most instances they were only supposed to exist temporarily. But today the largest corporations have become so huge that they literally dominate our entire society, and that is not good for any of us.

Just look at what is happening in the airline industry. When I was growing up, there were literally dozens of airlines, but now four major corporations control everything and they have been making gigantic profits…

AMERICA’S airlines used to be famous for two things: terrible service and worse finances. Today flyers still endure hidden fees, late flights, bruised knees, clapped-out fittings and sub-par food. Yet airlines now make juicy profits. Scheduled passenger airlines reported an after-tax net profit of $15.5bn in 2017, up from $14bn in 2016.

What is true of the airline industry is increasingly true of America’s economy. Profits have risen in most rich countries over the past ten years but the increase has been biggest for American firms. Coupled with an increasing concentration of ownership, this means the fruits of economic growth are being monopolised.

If you don’t like how an airline is treating you, in some cases you can choose to fly with someone else next time.

But as a recent Bloomberg article pointed out, that is becoming increasingly difficult to do…

United, for example, dominates many of the country’s largest airports. In Houston, United has around a 60 percent market share, in Newark 51 percent, in Washington Dulles 43 percent, in San Francisco 38 percent and in Chicago 31 percent. This situation is even more skewed for other airlines. For example, Delta has an 80 percent market share in Atlanta. For many routes, you simply have no choice.

And of course the airline industry is far from alone. In sector after sector, economic power is becoming concentrated in just a few hands.

For a moment, I would like you to consider these numbers…

Five banks control about half of the nation’s banking assets.
Many states have health insurance markets where the top two insurers have an 80 percent to 90 percent market share. For example, in Alabama one company, Blue Cross Blue Shield, has an 84 percent market share and in Hawaii it has 65 percent market share.
When it comes to high-speed Internet access, almost all markets are local monopolies; over 75 percent of households have no choice with only one provider.
Four players control the entire U.S. beef market and have carved up the country.

After two mergers this year, three companies will control 70 percent of the world’s pesticide market and 80 percent of the U.S. corn-seed market.

I knew that things were bad, but I didn’t know that they were that bad.

Capitalism works best when competition is maximized.

In socialist systems, the government itself becomes a major player in the game, and that is never a desirable outcome. Instead, what we want is for the government to serve as a “referee” that enforces rules that encourage free and fair competition. Jonathan Tepper, the author of “The Myth of Capitalism: Monopolies and the Death of Competition”, made this point very well in an excerpt from his new book…

Capitalism is a game where competitors play by rules on which everyone agrees. The government is the referee, and just as you need a referee and a set of agreed rules for a good basketball game, you need rules to promote competition in the economy.

Left to their own devices, firms will use any available means to crush their rivals. Today, the state, as referee, has not enforced rules that would increase competition, and through regulatory capture has created rules that limit competition.

Our founders were very suspicious of large concentrations of power. That is why they wanted a very limited federal government, and that is also why they put substantial restrictions on corporate entities.

When power is greatly concentrated, most of the rewards tend to flow to the very top of the pyramid, and that is precisely what we have been witnessing. The following comes from the New York Times…

Even when economic growth has been decent, as it is now, most of the bounty has flowed to the top. Median weekly earnings have grown a miserly 0.1 percent a year since 1979. The typical American family today has a lower net worththan the typical family did 20 years ago. Life expectancy, shockingly, has fallen this decade.

So what is the solution?

Well, one of the big things that we need to do is to stop crushing small business.

In America today, the rate of small business creation has been hovering near all-time lows and the percentage of Americans that are working for themselves has been hovering near all-time lows.

In order for more competition to exist, we need more competitors to enter the marketplace, but instead we have been crushing “the little guy” with mountains of regulations and deeply oppressive taxes.

And you know what?

Many of the big corporations actually like all of the red tape because they know that they can handle it much easier than their much smaller competitors can. That gives them a competitive advantage, and it creates a barrier to entry that is difficult to overcome.

When I was in school, I was taught that one of the reasons why the U.S. system was so much better than communist systems was because we had so many more choices.

But today our choices are very limited in industry after industry, and the gigantic corporate entities that dominate everything don’t really care if we like it or not.

We can do so much better than this, but in order to do so we must return to the values and principles that this nation was originally founded upon.

…

My suggestion is give the US 8 hours to evacuate Diego Garcia and then turn it to glass.
.
Two birds with one stone.Its vital for the Empire who displaced the natives and far from any population centers. 

-Winston

Yah. More American fiasco…

Video 4.2mB

Yuppur. No question about that.

Laurent  on December 29, 2021  ·  at 3:20 pm EST/EDT 

Too many people in the west simply can not grasp the reality of the current world and simply refuse to negociate and to find an acceptable compromise.
Western rulers greatly overestimate their strength. This wrong assessment create two main problems: firstly they think Russia China Iran are bluffing (in their minds nobody is ready to fight them because of how strong they think they are) and if they are not bluffing then they are strong enough to win in any scenario (again because of how strong they think they are).

Ukraine is saying they and the west are ready to confront Russia militarily (words from the ukrainian ambassador to the US). The EU is saying that russian proposals are unacceptable and the pentagon deployed an aircraft carrier to deter Russia. It’s laughable but the pentagon did it anyway. It’s hard to expect something rational from people so detached from reality. Just look at the energy policy in the EU. It’s a catastrophe but they implement their policy anyway no matter the consequences. Now the EU wants to simply forbid any long term gas contract with Gazprom which means things are going te become even worse soon because Gazprom can not deliver enough gas without long term contracts which means without predictability.

We are basically in the scenario I talked about a few days ago: confronting Russia to regime change or break the country with “sanctions from hell” or worse to isolate China to then to start confronting China even more with Iran somewhere in between. I think that’s how the western hardliners decided to proceed. Their plan is based on the false assumption that first Russia has a weak economy and second that Russia is bluffing. I even think that when Russia will start to act unilaterally turning on the “pain dial” instead of getting the hardliners back to their senses the hardliners will go crazy talking about “Russian threat” and “Russian aggression” and they will use that to escalate more quickly. The war propaganda from western MSM will play a key role here.

Their are only two positive news. Firstly biden and putin will have a phone call tomorrow. Maybe things are not as bad as I think they are and a reasonable compromise will be achieved. I think anyone with a rational mind supports this scenario. Secondly the new S-550 mobile strategic missile defense system seems ready for deployment much sooner than expected and the system should be capable of striking spacecraft, warheads of intercontinental ballistic missiles and hypersonic targets.

Do you know what this all reminds me of…

Yuppur.

No question about it at all. Roller Disco.

Roller Disco.

Don’t ask me why.

Is should be obvious to most aware and thinking people. Who understand Jimmy Carter and the “Russian Menace”. Roller Disco was popular during the Sunset years of the Russian Empire. Just like Tictok is popular during the Sunset Years of the American Empire.

Which brings me up to…

US and NATO Nuclear Lunacy Still Raving

By John LaForge

Global Research, December 29, 2021

Antiwar.com 23 December 2021

While Civil Society and a global movement work steadfastly across dozens of fields for the abolition of nuclear weapons, planning, preparations, and rehearsals for attacks using deployed H-bombs and nuclear missiles are routine in the US military and NATO. Two years ago, the US Joint Chief of Staff published online, then quickly deleted, its thermonuclear mass destruction titled “Nuclear Operations, Joint Publication 3-72.”

Before the Joint Chiefs took it down, Steven Aftergood of the Federation of American Scientists managed to preserve a copy. The manual relies on abstractions and euphemism to depict the unthinkable. It says,

“The employment of nuclear weapons could have a significant influence on ground operations.”

Of course “employment” means detonation, and “significant influence” means searing fireballs, vaporized victims, blast and shock-wave devastation, demolished hospitals and schools, vast firestorms, and permanent radioactive contamination of water, soil, and the food chain.

The manual explains that nuclear attacks create “conditions” without describing them.

It says,

“Using nuclear weapons could create conditions for decisive results and the restoration of strategic stability.”

Then, as if US presidents had never said,

“Nuclear war cannot be won and must never be fought,”

the report pretends it can and should. 

“[T]he use of a nuclear weapon will…create conditions that affect how commanders will prevail in conflict.”

US nuclear war practice takes place routinely with allied European militaries. “Steadfast Noon” is NATO’s code name for its annual nuclear attack practice, and Hans Kristensen reports for the Federation of American Scientists that,

 “This is the exercise that practices NATO’s nuclear strike mission with the B61 … nuclear bombs the US deploys in Europe.”

Jan Merička wrote in European Security Journal News Oct. 19, 2017, that Steadfast Noon is designed

“to simulate nuclear strikes…and was conducted from the Kleine Brogel Air Base in Belgium and Büchel Air Base in Germany, where US B61 thermonuclear bombs with the force of up to 340 kilotons of TNT are stored.” (FYI: Hiroshima was incinerated with a 15 kiloton US bomb.)

To illustrate the Pentagon’s ho-hum acceptance of mass destruction, it recently opened in Omaha its new, $1.3 billion Strategic Command headquarters for supervising and targeting the nuclear arsenal, and it named the building after General Curtis LeMay, who, the Omaha World Herald reported, designed and conducted the incendiary bombing of 60 Japanese cities at the end of WWII, bombing that “incinerated entire cities” killing as many as 900,000 civilians.

General LeMay’s motto and that of Strategic Command used to be “Death from Above,” but after the war it was changed to “Peace is Our Profession.”

In Germany, readiness for attacks with nuclear weapons is maintained by the USAF 702nd Munitions Support Squadron, which tends to Germany’s 33rd Fighter-Bomber Wing at Büchel Air Force Base.

Headlines from last October’s bombing “theater” included, and …

“NATO Holds Secret Nuclear War Exercises in Germany,”
“German Air Force training for nuclear war as part of NATO;”

And from 2017,

“NATO nuclear weapons exercise unusually open”;

And in 2015,

“NATO nuclear weapons exercise Steadfast Noon in Büchel.”

While the uninitiated might be aghast, the US military plans and prepares all year round for nuclear attacks at its far-flung “Defense Nuclear Weapons School” of the Air Force Nuclear College.

According to the school’s website, one branch (of “Armageddon Academy”) is at the Ramstein Air Force Base in Germany, the largest US military base outside the country. Other branches are in New Mexico, Florida, Texas, Georgia, Oklahoma, and Ohio. Outlines for this school’s ghoulish courses can been read online. (The site may have been altered since I first reported on it in last June.) For example, the school says boastfully that it…

“is responsible for delivering, sustaining and supporting air-delivered nuclear weapon systems for our warfighters … every day.”

Course outlines on the website include,

“Theater Nuclear Operations, a 4.5-day course that provides training for planners, support staff, targeteers, and staff nuclear planners for joint operations and targeting. 

The course provides an overview of nuclear weapon design, capabilities, and effects…. 

Objectives: …Understand the US nuclear planning and execution process; 

Understand the targeting effects of nuclear weapon employment.” 

Another class is, “Integrated Munitions Effects Assessment … a five-day course that provides students … proficiency in creating target models, developing attack plans using … nuclear weapons….” 

Students “will be able to import, edit, and modify target sites”, “Calculate probabilistic attacks against predefined targets; [and] develop attack plans using … nuclear weapons.…”

I am of the mind that setting the stage for nuclear attacks is both criminal and insane. Luckily, millions of people are involved in the newly invigorated movement to rid the world of such madness, via the 2017 Treaty on the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons. Read it sometime. At least you will have, unlike the American “leadership”..

Jose Garcia  on December 29, 2021  ·  at 2:54 pm EST/EDT 

I’ve seen better clown shows when I went to a PT Barnum and Bailey circus. This is beyond ridiculous. It’s more a symptom of insanity than anything else

A video interlude…

Did you all realize that throughout China, the school children are being trained on how to handle mass causalities, provide CPR and perform field triage? Yes, it is so, these are extra courses in additional to the military training that all school children get. video 36MB

The only language Americans really understand is this: to get a taste of their own medicine.

Until Americans are fearful of being bombed back to the Stone Age--just as America routinely bombs other nations around the world--the United Snakes of America will continue to do what it does best: lie, cheat, steal, exploit, bomb, invade, rape, and colonize with impunity as it has done since 1776.

Posted by: ak74 | Dec 30 2021 18:31 utc | 10

"Democratic elections are but a recent innovation, and a most uncertain one. For instance, during the 2016 election in the US, the establishment trotted out an entire array of craven, feckless, corrupt opportunists, and Trump knocked them all out with a feather ..."

This article from our archives was first published on RI in November 2018

Dmitry Orlov Sat, Dec 18 2021 | 1900 words 11,461 Comments

When I was five and spending the summer in a small village a couple of time zones east of Moscow I witnessed the execution of a rooster. My brother and I walked over to a neighbor’s house to pick up some eggs. Just as we arrived the neighbor finally caught the rooster and chopped his head of.

The now headless rooster then put on quite an aerobatic performance that was quite amazing. After doing an unlimited takeoff he repeatedly soared and plummeted, executed several touch-and-gos (more like crash-and-goes, actually) and was undeterred by what previously would have been head-on collisions. I was by then quite familiar with the poor aerodynamic qualities of barnyard fowl and was duly impressed with the energetic and breathtakingly erratic behavior of a bird liberated from the mental straitjacket of its brain. Unfortunately, the performance only lasted for a minute or so. A word to the wise: I later learned that it is possible to prolong the show, should the need ever arise, by heating up the hatchet so as to cauterize the severed neck. More recently, I have learned that such sans-têteaerobatics are not restricted to chickens.

Figurative birds, of the mechanical variety, can exhibit something similar. A prime example is the greatest boondoggle in the history of military aviation, the F-35 Joint Strike Fighter. It too is liable to losing its head, in the sense of the pilot blacking out. In addition to being ridiculously expensive (over $1.5 trillion in projected project costs) and plagued with problems (only half of the built planes are considered ready for any sort of mission and there are over a thousand known defects that haven’t been fixed, including ones that make it useless for air-to-air combat or ground support) F-35 pilots often report feeling sick and there have been many incidents where they lost consciousness, probably due to oxygen starvation and circulation problems.

In response, the fatally flawed jet’s maker Lockheed Martin, whose motto seems to be “One boondoggle deserves another,” has decided to add a subsystem. Called Auto-GCAS (for Ground Collision Avoidance System), it takes over automatically if it detects the danger of ground collision and the pilot fails to respond to the alarm and take corrective action. Auto-GCAS then throttles up and directs the plane upward, pulling a maximum of five g’s. What does that do to a pilot who is already feeling sick or is unconscious? Once a safe altitude is reached, the plane levels out and Auto-GCAS shuts off. If the pilot happens to be offline for good, the process repeats until the plane runs out of fuel and crashes. I hope that you are impressed with the sheer brilliance of the plan. A show designed to impress was recently staged at an airfield in Utah, where 35 F-35s took off, one right after the other. It has not been independently verified how many of them landed. Auto-GCAS is slated to be ready for use by 2024, but Pentagon’s planners are hoping to accelerate the process.

All of this made me wonder about the general behavior to be expected of hierarchically organized, centrally controlled systems once they are deprived of their control module. Auto-GCAS is by no means the worst case. For instance, there is the Russian Perimetr system, a.k.a. Dead Hand. If it detects that the Russian military leadership has been incapacitated by a nuclear strike, it will launch an all-out nuclear attack, obliterating the aggressor. This may seem like a really bad plan, but then attacking Russia is a really bad plan too, and one bad plan deserves another.

What makes this plan bad is that it doesn’t elicit the right response. The right response is: “Oh, we see, attacking Russia is sheer suicide, so let’s not do that.” But where’s the money in not planning to attack Russia? And so instead the “One boondoggle deserves another” crew sets forth to build anti-ballistic missile systems (which don’t work) and deep underground bomb shelters stocked with years’ worth of supplies (which is gold-plating; a large shallow grave to jump into when the time comes would work just as well).

And yet as far as planning for decapitation goes, Dead Hand is state of the art. Most other large-scale centrally controlled systems are woefully unprepared for the loss of their command modules. For instance, look at finance. After the financial collapse of 2008 it quickly became obvious that nobody competent or responsible was in charge.

The “solution” was for central banks to start blowing financial bubbles by zeroing out interest rates and flooding the world with new debt. Debt that expands much faster than the economy is garbage debt, and it gave rise to various other kinds of garbage: garbage energy from shale and tar sands, garbage money in the form of cryptocurrencies, garbage real estate investment schemes, garbage corporate balance sheets bloated with debt used up in stock buybacks, a large crop of garbage oligarchs gorging themselves on all of this garbage “wealth” and much else. Things look good while all this garbage is packaged up in financial bubbles, but once they pop (and as all children know all bubbles pop eventually) everyone will end up wearing the garbage.

There are plenty of examples of political auto-decapitation as well. In the US, Trump realized that he can become president simply by insulting all of his competitors (who richly deserved such treatment) and so he did. But now the hive mind of Washington is deeply at odds with the bumblebee-mind of Trump, and neither qualifies as any sort of a head, except perhaps in a strictly symbolic sense. Things are no better in Europe. In the UK, an anti-Brexit team is in charge of negotiating Brexit, struggling to make it as anti-Brexit a Brexit as possible.

That doesn’t seem like any sort of “headedness.” In Germany, Merkel is on her way out, and her replacement has the unenviable task of hammering together a governing coalition out of parties that are too busy knocking heads with each other. The multi-headed bureaucratic hydra in Brussels is not exactly popular with anyone. What is the recourse? Emperor Macron of France, perhaps? Is Europe ready to be headed by a diacritical character? (A macron is a horizontal line you place over vowel letters to represent a long vowel: Mācron.)

There are systems that are properly headless: flocks of birds, schools of fish, communes of anarchists, etc. They are anarchically structured and individuals within them take on temporary, task-based leadership roles as the situation demands and can only expect to be obeyed in accordance with their competence in executing the tasks.

But most of the human systems we have are hierarchically structured and require to be headed by someone. Democratic elections are but a recent innovation, and a most uncertain one. For instance, during the 2016 election in the US, the establishment trotted out an entire array of craven, feckless, corrupt opportunists, and Trump knocked them all out with a feather, not because he is any sort of proper leader, but because it was so easy.

For an even more amazing example of democratic failure, look at today’s Ukraine—the most recent experiment in Western democracy. There, a constitutionally elected, though remarkably corrupt and indecisive president was violently overthrown in 2014 in a US-managed coup and replaced with an American puppet so unpopular that yesterday he was forced to introduce martial law—just in order to be able to cancel the elections scheduled in three months and to remain in office de facto.

To produce a rationale for declaring martial law he sent some small boats on a truly idiotic mission. The boats sailed into a Russian-controlled high traffic zone in the Black Sea, refused to respond when hailed and then pointed weapons at Russian border patrol. For this they were duly arrested and hauled off to jail, and their boats confiscated. Previously, an ongoing civil war instigated by this same president resulted in some fifty thousand casualties, but no martial law was ever deemed necessary. What’s different now? Oh, the elections, of course!

If these are the fruits of democracy, perhaps the Ukrainians should consider going back to a monarchy. Dynastic succession has worked much better and for much longer periods of time. For instance, at the time of its annexation by Russia in 1783, Crimea was ruled by Shahin Girei, a descendant of Genghis Khan who was born around 1155.

That one dynasty, spanning 628 years, ruled the largest empire that ever was. At one point it included all of China, most of Russia, Korea, Persia and India, plus many lands in between. Genghis had decreed that no part of the Mongol Empire could be ruled by anyone who wasn’t a direct descendant of his, and so it was.

The Mongol Empire ended peacefully, with Shahin Girei abdicating his throne and accepting protection from Catherine the Great. Maybe that’s the plan, then: install a Ukrainian Emperor and immediately have him abdicate his throne and accept protection from Putin the Great. Then Putin will turn the heat and the hot water back on, the armed thugs will be marched off to someplace safe for disarming and de-thugging, and the nuke plants will stop breaking down.

Since we seem to be headed (no pun intended) for unstable and disrupted times, it bears pointing out that while democracy may be very nice when everything is going along according to plan, it is not particularly resilient in the face of severe disruption. And what is the plan now—in the US, or in the EU (or what will be left of it)?

We have some truly ghastly examples of the fruits of democracy in the form of the Weimar Republic in Germany or the Interim Government between February and October of 1917 in Russia. If you don’t fancy being ruled by headless chickens, consider picking a leader using whatever ad hoc procedure that works.

The idea is to avoid any more Robespierrian Reigns of Terror, Reichstag fires or October Revolutions—because we already know what those are like.

Another video interlude…

China is not Afghanistan. Any one who thinks so is a fucking idiot. video 3.2MB

China is not Syria. Anyone who thinks so is a fucking idiot. video 4MB

I have been watching the shitshow since Kosovo, more intensely so since Libya. I did my time in the US Marines in the early to mid 1980´s (helos) and was mentored by people with trigger time since WWII in various places around the world. They served both as enlisted and as officers, in different branches of service. I can offer a few perspectives, as somebody who just watched it all pass by, without any affiliation to current people whom are official. I kind of like it that way, because I learn about what is going on through a process which seems to be natural and holisitic, cheerleadering for no one side out of hand. Overall, I want more peace and less absolutely useless violence.

The Russians: in a nutshell they are very tightly wired. Their comportment during the heavy fighting in Syria said it all. They were absolutely professional, orderly and courageous. I could not believe what I was observing upon watching footage of Russian attack helicopter pilots engaging heavily defended targets, at extremely close range, over and over again. Their officers fought and died over there while leading, with barely a whimper. There is a reason why people fear the Russian military now and it is a sound position and appreciation of them in my book. They are not playing. This is also reflected in their political leardership at this point, which is exceptionally clear eyed.

The U.S.: The officer corps is a mess, thinking it is just a career path. They never tell it straight, are almost always worried about appearances and they ability to drive ships in the 7th fleet is a good place to start with for examples of this. The personnel themselves can be formidable but, the politics has probably made that completely impossible. Political leadership, coupled with extremely poor intelligence capacity and outright conceit at the decision making level has lead to one surprize after another. Weapons development and procurement has been used as if it´s only purpose was large scale theft. The biggest problems by far are they act as if nobody has any idea what they are doing or just can´t see where the are going …….. while at the same time relying on plans and direction from people who are cowards and are not prepared to sustain a good old fashioned paper cut.

You know, backing off and picking a new direction could be good for everybody. peace can help. Punks like Gloria and Hillary and that ilk in general are dragging us into an inferno. Russia will start removing pieces from the chess board with lighting speed and very soon, if they are not heeded. The party is over, the police are on the scene, my advice is go home and give it a rest. Fix our shcools and road systems, it is much safer and beneficial.

My take, thank you for letting me post it.

-John

Another video interlude…

China is not Vietnam. Anyone who thinks it is is an idiot. video 2MB

China is not Yemen. Anyone who thinks so is an idiot. video 3.4MB

NATO Preparing for Large-scale, High-intensity Armed Conflict with Russia?

By Rick Rozoff

Global Research, December 28, 2021

We are at a Dangerous Crossroads in the History of Humanity.  

Rick Rozoff provides us with a selection of excerpts from major Russian media sources pertaining to the Russia- US/NATO confrontation on Russia’s Western border with Ukraine.

 The objective is to inform Western readers on how the official Russian media views and analyses this ongoing crisis which could lead the World into a World War III Scenario. 

The excerpts include statements by Russia’s Defense Ministry

***

Emphasis added

1. Russian Information Agency Novosti.

Graphics supplied by Anti-Bellum

Defense Ministry: NATO is preparing for a large-scale armed conflict with Russia

“NATO is preparing for an armed conflict with Russia , Deputy Defense Minister Alexander Fomin said at a briefing for military attachés and representatives of foreign embassies accredited in Moscow.

“The military construction of the bloc has been completely redirected to prepare for a large-scale, high-intensity armed conflict with Russia,” the colonel-general said.

He explained that the North Atlantic Alliance in its documents, including the military strategy of 2019, directly calls our country the main source of “threats to coalition security.”

At the same time, Fomin noted, the Rome Declaration is still in force, which states that Russia and NATO do not consider each other as adversaries. The parties confirmed this at the 2010 summit in Lisbon. [At which Dmitry Medvedev became the first and to date only Russian or Soviet head of state to participate in a NATO summit – RR]

Targeted provocations by NATO near the Russian borders are highly likely to lead to an armed conflict, the Deputy Defense Minister emphasized. As an example, he cited the attempt of the British destroyer Defender in June of this year to penetrate the territorial waters of Russia off the coast of Crimea. At the same time, the actions of the British Navy ship were provided by the American strategic reconnaissance aircraft RC-135.

As Fomin pointed out, the intensity of such flights in the Black Sea region increased by more than 60 percent compared to 2020, the number of sorties increased from 436 to 710. Strategic bombers B-IB and B-52H of the US Air Force flew 92 times against 78 in 2020 in the airspace of the Black Sea region with access to the conditional line of using weapons. To the west of Crimea, the planes flew up to the Russian borders at a distance of 15 kilometers.

“In total, this year, the command of the NATO Joint Armed Forces conducted 15 exercises in the Black Sea. In 2020, there were eight,” the Deputy Defense Minister continued.

The presence of ships and auxiliary vessels from non-regional NATO states “has become virtually permanent.”

“From January to December of this year, 30 calls of NATO ships were made, in 2020 there were 23 of them. The total duration of stay was more than 400 days, in 2020 – 359,” Fomin said.

Activity in the Baltic region

In the Baltic zone, aircraft of NATO countries made more than 1,200 sorties, and more than 50 warships went out for naval reconnaissance. More than 20 exercises were held in the region in 2021.

“At the same time, neutral states and our closest neighbors: Finland and Sweden are actively involved in coalition activities ,” the colonel-general noted.

He also stressed that after the US withdrew from the Treaty on the Elimination of Intermediate-Range and Shorter-Range Missiles, NATO actually ignored Vladimir Putin ‘s initiative to impose a moratorium on the deployment of new intermediate and shorter-range missiles in Europe and the possibility of developing reciprocal measures to remove existing fears.

“Every year, the NATO bloc conducts 30 major exercises, during which scenarios for conducting military operations against Russia are being worked out. Within the framework of combat training events, special attention is paid to the creation of strike groups near the borders of our country. In particular, a series of Defender exercises were held in May-June of this year. Europe-2021 with the transfer from the United States of America and Western Europe to the “eastern flank” of reinforcement troops of up to 40 thousand people,” Fomin said.”

***

At the same time, a contingent of about 13 thousand troops from the non-regional states of the bloc is constantly present in Eastern Europe. It has about 200 tanks, 400 armored vehicles, 50 guns and three dozen aircraft and helicopters.

====

2. From Sputnik News

Russian Defence Ministry: NATO Preparing for Large-scale High-intensity Conflict With Moscow

Moscow has expressed concerns about the concentration of Western alliance missile systems, troops, warships and aircraft near Russia’s borders, and NATO’s decades’ long eastward expansion. This month, the Russian Foreign Ministry formally signalled that it considers Ukraine to be a ‘red line’ for Moscow which NATO is strongly advised not to cross.

NATO is preparing for a large-scale armed conflict with Russia, in contravention of the Rome Declaration of 2002, Russian Deputy Defence Minister Alexander Fomin has said.

***

From Drang nach Osten “Push Eastwards”

[Russia’s] deputy defence minister warned that NATO’s efforts to expand and strengthen its military infrastructure on its eastern flank have had a negative impact on the security architecture of the entire European continent, but are only one of multiple actions taken by the alliance over the decades to do so.

“In 1999, a military operation which was not approved by the United Nations was carried out in Yugoslavia. The bombing of Belgrade killed innocent civilians, and the country’s economy was disrupted. The disintegration of Yugoslavia led to a new round expansion of the bloc and the incorporation of Albania, Croatia and Montenegro, and after that Northern Macedonia,” Fomin said.

At the same time, he noted, the ‘Western partners’ continued to assure Moscow “of the absence of aggressive designs against Russia,” and that Russia believed these assurances, notwithstanding the freezing of interaction with NATO in 1999 in connection with the Yugoslav crisis.

Fomin recalled that the most significant expansion of NATO eastward took place in 2004, when the Baltic states of Latvia, Lithuania and Estonia, as well as Bulgaria, Romania, Slovakia and Slovenia joined the bloc.

This and other waves of expansion significantly increasing the alliance’s military potential on its eastern flank, he said, pointing out that NATO’s borders have moved over 1,000 km eastward, providing it with opportunities to use non-strategic weapons to strike targets inside Russia.

“For example, the minimum flight time from air bases in Estonia to St. Petersburg has been reduced to several minutes. Most of Kaliningrad region is within striking range of artillery systems alone….A significant number of pieces of infrastructure have been transferred to NATO’s disposal, expanding the possibility for the deployment and transfer of troops,” Fomin said.

The reference to Lakenheath is outdated.
.

The officer added that the bloc’s arsenal was beefed up considerably by weapons, vehicles and personnel of the former Warsaw Pact members, plus new ports in the Baltic and Black Seas, and an expansion of NATO’s naval forces.

From TASS

Russian Defense Ministry says NATO aims to deter, not engage with Russia

NATO has focused on the military deterrence of Russia while it used to prefer engaging in joint projects, said Russian Deputy Defense Minister Alexander Fomin.

“The current deplorable state of relations between Russia and NATO can be explained by the fact that the alliance has often resorted to using hybrid methods to contain Russia, combining dialogue with a build-up of military preparations,” Fomin said on Monday….

He said that the deterioration of relations between Russia and NATO began earlier than 2014.

“After the end of the Cold War, the Russian Federation has repeatedly made attempts to find new forms of engagement with NATO, to create a stable, equal system of European security for all,” Fomin said. “It would be wrong to believe that the deterioration of Russia-NATO relations began in 2014.”

“The declared goals of equal cooperation by the alliance were not fulfilled much earlier, in fact, immediately after the collapse of the Warsaw Pact,” he went on to say. “At the same time, Russia was then unprecedentedly open to constructive partnership with the West and carried out a voluntary demilitarization of the country on its western borders.”

Russia also withdrew its troops from the Warsaw Pact countries, the deputy minister said.

The CIA falsely believed it was ‘invincible’ in China — here’s how its spies were reportedly discovered and killed in one of the biggest blows to the agency

David Choi

Aug 16, 2018, 4:27 PM

A new Foreign Policy report cites sources detailing how the communication system between the CIA’s spies and handlers in China nearly a decade ago was compromised.
The vulnerability contributed to the deaths of at least 30 spies, the sources said.
This internet-based system, imported from operations in the Middle East, was apparently brought to China under the assumption that it could not be breached.
But, according to the report, the program actually had telltale links to the CIA that would have allowed China to work out what was going on.

A firewall used by the CIA to communicate with its spies in China compromised their identities and contributed to their executions by the Chinese government, several current and former intelligence officials told Foreign Policy magazine in a report published Wednesday.

In a two-year period starting in 2010, Chinese officials began accurately identifying spies working for the US.

Chinese authorities rounded up the suspects and executed or imprisoned them before their handlers were able to determine what was going on.

“You could tell the Chinese weren’t guessing,” one of the US officials said in the report. “The Ministry of State Security were always pulling in the right people.”

“When things started going bad, they went bad fast.”

US intelligence officials cited in the report are now placing the lion’s share of the blame on what one official called a “f—– up” communications system used between spies and their handlers.

This internet-based system, brought over from operations in the Middle East, was taken to China under the assumption that it could not be breached and made the CIA “invincible,” Foreign Policy reported.

“It migrated to countries with sophisticated counterintelligence operations, like China,” an official said.

“The attitude was that we’ve got this, we’re untouchable.”

Intelligence officers and their sources were able to communicate with each other using ordinary laptops or desktop computers connected to the internet, marking a stark departure from some of the more traditional methods of covert communication.

This “throwaway” encrypted program, which was assumed to be untraceable and separate from the CIA’s main communication line, was reportedly used for new spies as a safety measure in case they double-crossed the agency.

Unbeknownst to the CIA, however, this system could be used to connect with mainstream CIA communications, used by fully vetted CIA sources.

According to the report, the vulnerability would have even allowed Chinese intelligence agencies to deduce it was being used by the US government.

The Chinese set up a task force to break in to the throwaway system, Foreign Policy said, but it was unclear how they ultimately identified people.

The consequences for this breach were grim.

About 30 spies were reportedly executed, though some intelligence officials told Foreign Policy that 30 was a low estimate.

The US officials were reportedly “shell-shocked” by the speed and accuracy of Chinese counterintelligence, and rescue operations were organized to evacuate their sources.

The last CIA case officer to meet with sources in China reportedly handed over large amounts of cash in hopes that it would help them escape, Foreign Policy said.

The CIA has since been rebuilding its network in China, but the process has been an expensive and long endeavor, according to The New York Times, which in 2017 first reported on the suspected vulnerability and sources’ deaths.

END OF PART 1

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Some selected favorite artworks by William Adolphe Bouguereau with a slight detour towards the crazed religious Right in charge of the American government

This is going to be a (far too abbreviated) article about the great paintings of a man that the world has seemingly forgotten. Which is a shame. But it is also something else as well. For I am going to get really, and absolutely personal about art and what it means to me, and about the United States as well.

You see, and must understand, art is a creation that massages our emotions. If that art generates good thoughts, or treasured memories within us, it becomes priceless and valuable. But consider what would happen if somehow an evil person is able to take that treasured moment away from you. What then?

Thus this post.

The artist that we shall discuss is one of my all-time favorites. His name was William Adolphe Bouguereau, and I had the opportunity to see his works up front and close up in the Carnegie Mellon museum of art in Oakland, Pennsylvania (It’s an upscale suburb of Pittsburgh.)

And while he is no longer popular or appreciated in Art History class, his works and the emotions that they generate lives on through MM.

Carnegie Mellon museum of art in Oakland, Pennsylvania

Indeed, he is not forgotten here.

Fundamentally, William Adolphe Bouguereau was a most amazing painter. And while his paintings inspire and astound, when you look at his works up close, you wonder just how in the world was he able to do what he did. Up close, everything just seems to be dabs and drabs of paint here and there.

You can well imagine him put a drop here, and then a drop there, and then somehow, by some miracle it all comes together in an amazing work of art.

He is considered to be a “French Academic Classical painter, teacher, frescoist and draftsman”. He died in 1905 after 432 amazing works of art.

To see a complete collection of his works you can visit the Art Renewal Center here. Prepare to be stunned and amazed. (Pssst. You can also order prints of his works there to put up in your house or favored spot. - Just a thought. Don't you know.)

What I really want to say about this is that beauty surrounds us everywhere.

And if you have an opportunity, take an afternoon with friends or family and visit an Art museum, and then have a nice lunch. Go out. Have fun. Enjoy life. And if by chance you ever get the chance to see any Academic Classic paintings, by all means go forth and enjoy.

Check out his amazing works.

Inside the art museum. — Having a fun time with the family inside the Carnegie Mellon art museum.

…

Sigh.

And now the sad part of the story.

I strongly love art for the emotions, the memories and the images that they represent to me on a very personal and visceral basis. While I have never been able to match the mastery of the oils as these Masters have, they have inspired me. And I have taken on my own efforts to pain figurative and allegorical works of my own design. And I like to think of myself as “pretty good”, I would only rate a “7” compared to the Master that is listed herein. Who is, in every way, a “10+”.

Up until my arrest (as part of my “retirement” from the MAJestic organization) I had a nice little studio. I had studios in Kittanning, and Erie Pennsylvania, and in Arkansas. My little studio in Arkansas occupied the garage. And so it was a “partial” studio. One side was bicycle storage, boxes, and a workbench. The other side was a canvas tarp covered floor, natural lighting via light-bulb and my massive painting easel.

The tale of how I was arrested, and how my life was dissembled step by methodical step is a very painful one for me. At that time, I had no idea that I would actually be “retired” as a MAJestic operator. I figured that I was somehow “special” and that my program participation would consist of a debriefing at a government office of some type. But, that did not happen.

I wasn’t important.

At least the (government) powers that be didn’t think that I was. And so, one day, out of the blue I was arrested. And I watched my life fall apart right before my eyes. I watched the entire force of an enormous and all-powerful government peel my life apart, layer by layer until I was raw, nude and helpless.

This story is still painful for me to relate.

Sorry you seem so butt-hurt about the IRS and the USA, etc. Obviously you have a seething rage and hatred for the USA for whatever (unexplained) reason . That’s OK. Stay in China and hate us all you want. Works for me.

-A quote from a jack-ass who was trolling me.

As it is indeed still very painful, I am not going to relate it at this time. But, (unfortunately) in order to know about one of my favorite artists, you will need to know a little bit about HOW I was arrested in Arkansas…

…and how it has affected my love of classical art.

Connecting art with sexual deviance

It’s simple, really.

I had a collection of books on art. many were on techniques, but others were these huge “coffee table” books that people would place on the living room coffee table for casual enjoyment. I had quite a collection of them. And most of my books were of the classics. All full of art by true and real masters.

And, on that fateful day when I was arrested in Arkansas, my large picture book of William Adolphe Bouguereau was used as evidence of my “satanic nature”, and “lust for little children“.

I well remember sitting on the lone chair in the middle of my empty living room…

All of my belongings except for my books, and a mysterious box full of CD ROMS were gone. My home was completely empty including the light bulbs and the light switch covers. Even the fake fireplace had the fake logs gone. As was the built-in microwave, and refrigerator.

On that fateful day, I had just gotten back from a three week trip to China. When I returned I discovered that my car was disabled with four flat tires, my power was turned off, and my home was completely empty except for two chairs, and a pile of books and a big (taped up) box displayed predominantly in the middle of the living room floor.

They raided me in full SWAT gear at 6am as I was leaving the house to go to work. Their black painted armored cars ran over my rose bushes, and two other squad cars blocked up the driveway to my house - a downscale McMansion in a nice section of Maumelle Arkansas.

Maumelle Arkansas house. — My house at the time looked a little something like this, only a tad bigger and my grass much much greener. LOL.

…

…I sat there, in that lone chair in the middle of the empty living room …

…while the detective in charge of the “investigation” grilled me on sexual matters and my interests. I’ll never forget her holding up my coffee table book of William Adolphe Bouguereau, and making points about all the nudes, the “Satanic nature of my interests” and why I was so fixated on “the dark side of history“.

It has wounded me terribly, and I still smart from their fucking smirks and ignorance. I know, I know…

…it’s Arkansas.

But still. It came as a surprise. You see. While I have read about these things happening, I never thought that it would happen to me.

And since (from now on and forever hence) I will always have those memories associated with certain artists and works of art, I will use that venue to provide the bitter-sweet love of art that I maintain after I was dissembled and “processed” by the jackasses in Arkansas.

I discuss this fact, and my experiences in this article.

Let’s begin with one of my all-time favorite paintings…

Nymphes et Satyre

Four nymphs tease and play with a satyr by trying to pull him into a lake. One nymph waves behind to three other nymphs in the distance, perhaps beckoning them to come and play with the satyr as well. The satyr half heartedly tries to resist the nymph’s wiles, entranced by their beauty.

You don’t really need to know what nymphs are, or what satyrs are to appreciate this work. But knowing the story behind them adds a three-dimensional understanding of the art and what is being portrayed.

Nymphs are from Greek mythology. 

They are considered to be minor female deities, and have a duty to protect different elements of nature such as streams, mountains and meadows (pantheon). 

The male counterpart for a nymph is a satyr. A satyr is a creature also from Greek mythology having the torso and face of a man, ears and tail of a horse, and feet of a goat. They are known for being lustful and fertile creatures.

I can’t help but respond that Bouguereau captures an incredible sense of motion in this piece.

One can feel the struggle for the satyr to keep his ground, and the nymphs’ joyous struggle to pull him in. You can just feel the easy going, caviler attitude and peace in the pastoral scene. You can hear the water nymph’s jovial joking and feel their tugging towards the placid pond.

It’s like puppies playing. Or like kittens running around. It’s like small boys and girls playing in the yard on a nice sunny blue-sky day. It’s like Fresca and orange soda, peanut butter sandwiches and very-berry Cool-Aide. It’s water out of a green water-hose on a hot summer day, climbing trees, and riding your banana-seat, high-handle-bars bike all around town.

Childhood in the 1960s. — When I look at this work of art, I am transported back to another time. It makes me forget my current life, and re-experience the feelings and emotions and sensations of another time and another place.

Why I love this picture is actually unknown. Somehow, and in some deep way it stirs my soul. But I really cannot vocalize what that special something is. It speaks to me in a deep visceral manner.

And that’s the way life is. Not everyone can appreciate how you might feel about a “thing”, or an “object”, or a “piece of art”, or a “bauble”. So you just don’t try.

Consider the Movie “The Object of Beauty“.

It’s pretty much a forgotten movie. Not well appreciated. Just something from the early 1990’s. But it makes a point about what art and beauty and appreciation is… all in terms of the early 1990’s – the decades of greed, swindles and anything / everything for a buck.

And that movie revolves around a small figurine statue. One that is worth money. But is coveted by the owners as a medium of exchange, but stolen by a housekeeper who appreciates it’s intangible beauty…

*sigh*

rare gem overlooked as much as statue                                  nuntukamen18 December 2004             
                              
It is difficult for  me to comprehend why there is only one viewer comment for this film, or  why it is rated under a six. 

If an excellent film is about  entertainment, intelligence, great acting and a terrific story with a  treasury of clever humor that expounds the deeper meaning of a good  relationship between a man and a woman over wealth and selfishly egotistical success, then this is a standout film that achieves a  richness of artistic accomplishment that very few films do. 

No one truly sees the beauty of the bronze statue except the lowly and weathered housekeeper, a financially struggling mute, unable to express the  profound feelings that are moving within her in words, but Rudi Davies  sure gets it across with her expression and eyes. 

I had to drive 30  miles to the Cedar Lee Theater, Cleveland's only real art house, during it's original release, but after the film was over I realized it would have been worthwhile if I would have had to walk...

...some films are just that special.

"The Object of Beauty" — “The Object of Beauty“

But back to the painting…

When I was a young boy, I actually saw this painting. It sat there predominantly on the wall facing the stairs as you walked up and into the museum proper. My parents went it, and took the right at the top of the stairs and enters. But I didn’t.

And to be very truthful, I just stood there on the steps looking up at it in amazement. It was larger than life to me and spoke to me…

…though, as a boy, I didn’t understand the language.

This work of art is spellbinding.

…

Art and the appreciation of it is a personal matter. And today, art is used as a medium to funnel large amounts of money back and forth between oligarchy members without concern. It’s a method of banking. Not an object of beauty, desire or of significance.

Today, ah, no one cares…

As an aside, the DA in Arkansas used my collection of books on art and artists as exhibits as to how terribly “evil” I was. I cannot remember the entire spiel that he gave to my attorney, because frankly, I was taken back at his ignorance and assault on my sensibilities. But a couple phrases stood out…

“...a painting depicting Satan surrounded by nude women…”
(my) “...obsession with female nudes…”

What is art and beautiful to one observer is evil and a threat to another. Do not make my mistake and think that everyone else can see beauty as you can, or who can understand things as you do, or who appreciates the world in different ways.

And when I was arrested, it was not for the possession of these works of art, or associated books. It was for two images on my laptop computer.

A Japanese comic that had a octopus having sex with a cat-like-person.
A photo that a doctor said was a girl under the age of 18 showing her genitals.

In Arkansas both images are considered “child pornography”. And each image had up to 40 years imprisonment. So I was facing 80 years.

Pretty fucking weird for a state that allowed people to get married to 16 year old girls. Was a “dry country” where you had to drive into Tennessee to buy alcohol. And where the Church in Down Town Little Rock was larger than the State Capital Building.

You know, I shared a cell in Arkansas at the ADC Brickey’s unit who got two years for killing a guy. I got five years for having two pictures. I just shake my head in perplexing exasperation.

But I digress.

I guess, at heart, I’m just a “hippie”, a “60’s child”.

Can you imagine what America would have been like if the Bozos that run America today were in charge of America back in the 1960’s?

Shudder.

GOP lawmaker: God told me to remove rape exceptions from ...
https://deadstate.org/gop-lawmaker-god-told-me-to...

May 24, 2019 · Hill, who is an evangelical Christian, says that the initial exceptions were only there to ensure that the bill would pass. Even though it picked up 20 co-sponsors, it died without getting a hearing in any committee. Hill told the group in Pensacola that he plans to bring the bill back as God intended it, “without any exceptions.”

The point that I want to make is that the emotions that I now feel when I look at these great works of art are now polluted with the imagery of my memories when I dealt with the military police in Arkansas. And while my story seems to be unique, all of the rest of my MAJestic cell had similar stories. And yes, others now call me a real sick person for having those images on my computer. I get it. I understand.

And now, I live a life where I cannot enjoy art like I used to.

I’ll never forget the phrase “you can paint houses“.

And this gem; “no one wants to see paintings like this when all you need do is take a picture“.

And of course the standard narrative; “people like you need to be locked up and separated from society until your malfunction can be corrected“.

We must realize and recognize that there are others, often sick people, who are in positions of power and control and who can squash your life out like an insect. Sick people. Evil people. In positions of power.

Takes away from the beauty of that great painting, eh?

Yes.

That’s my point.

Pat Robertson says God told him Trump ‘is going to win ...
https://www.christianpost.com/news/pat-robertson...

Oct 21, 2020 · Christian Broadcasting Network chairman and televangelist Pat Robertson said Monday that he believes God told him President Donald Trump will be re-elected for a second term but great civil unrest will ensue. “I want to say without question, Trump is going to win the election,” Robertson said on “The 700 Club” Tuesday. “… The election that’s coming up in just a few weeks at which time, according to what I believe the Lord told …

Art is all about the emotions you have while looking at the artwork

I enjoy art because of the feelings and the thoughts and memories they generate.

But, you know…

Some people cannot emote.

They cannot feel emotions. They cannot “relate” to others they are unable to emote or understand how others feel. To them, they cannot see art as anything other than a “thing”, a commodity that you can trick others into buying. These people with this mental illness occupy a significant percentage of our society. Some say that it is even as high as 10%. But one thing is for certain, the ability to make money and accumulate fortunes are in the strong suit for these people.

Thus, in a nation that values money above all else, where capitalism reins supreme you will find these people in positions of power and control.

Key “Republican” members of Government during the Trump Administration.

The American leadership; the American Oligarchy are are… are… unable to emote. They are unable to experience emotions or understand the emotions of others.

Why?

What are these people’s problem?

Perhaps this video might provide some insight to how the rest of the world views America at this point in time. A point in time, mind you, where the government does not care about the citizens. It only cares of about keeping them down, subservient, and compliant, while they run amok in their crazy delusions and obscene objectives.

Uh…

And one more thing, you will never see this kind of information on any of the Alt-Right, Alt-Left or Mainstream American media. They would rather die than face the truth.

America as viewed by the rest of the world.

…

Keep that thought in mind. A thought that says that the craziest and most evil people thrive within the American capitalist “democracy” as it exists today. And the most evil, the most selfish, and the most manipulative are able to rise to extreme levels of power and control within the American environment.

Ah.

It’s upsetting.

But let’s move one and look at some more Art. Let’s consider the fact that unlike the products that are churned out of America today, these works endure. They persist and they are established as a stable foundation for what the human species represents. Let’s look at some more of the great works by William Adolphe Bouguereau.

La Vierge aux Anges

Here we have a trio of angels playing music for baby Jesus and the Virgin Mother Mary. I love this picture, and it evokes in me the feelings of love caring, compassion and peace.

This painting can be seen elsewhere on the internet. It is embraced by religious websites and in the websites devoted to greeting and gift cards. I have even seen (I believe) this work reproduced on pictures, post cards, and such things as plates and clocks. A simple image search on Google will help you all find the great diversity of the for-profit avenues that people have used with this work.

Usually, Mary is depicted in blue and white, which I haven’t a clue as to why. And the angels tend to be in shades of white, which is also something that I have no idea about either. Never the less, this is a beautiful painting and very calming.

The Virgin with Angels is a 1900 painting by William-Adolphe Bouguereau. The painting media is oil on canvas, and it measures 185 × 285 cm (72.8 × 112.2 in). It’s a large painting at 6 feet by 9 feet. I imagine that when he painted this, he intended to show the love of the Mother Mary with the baby Jesus and the beauty and support of the surrounding angels. I cannot imagine what he would think that this image was being used on plates and cheap products at Walmart to support a for-profit motive.

When my home was raided they said nothing about this picture. Except maybe a quick pause before they turned the page. It’s hard to find something fundamentally wrong with angels playing violins and other musical instruments. So they just glossed over this painting and went on to the next one..

It’s lovely. Don’t you agree?

Petites Maraudeuses

But they did stop at this painting in the book.

This is a typical work of his. His works that depict children and the life of play are great themes and I well remember some homes of both uncles and aunties that had these kinds of works in their living rooms. (Of course, with a “Great Supper” painting in the kitchen or dining room.)

It is so calming…

It is titled “Little Thieves”. And while the detective and the police didn’t stop to read the captions or text inside the coffee table book, they used the artwork to grill me and goad me to admit to something ignorant and evil.

I once worked with a fellow engineer in Boston. He was a plastics engineer from Pakistan. He saw that I had a miniature reproduction (of this painting) in my office and fell in love with the painting. He used to come into my office and we would chat. But he would always look up at the painting with this kind of far-away look in his eyes. It meant something to him. But his pride was such that he would never admit to it.

So I gave it to him when I was sacked by the company (Laid Off). When I gave it to him he was surprised and he wondered why I did so, and that yes (of course) he would accept it. He said that he secretly loved the painting. He said that it reminded him of his boyhood home. In Pakistan.

Lovely.

The techniques of Bouguereau

You have to admit that this artist had mastered his technique. Is there anything for us to learn?

From the Art Renewal Center…

To fully appreciate the art of  Bouguereau  one must profess a deep respect for the discipline of drawing and the  craft of traditional picture-making; one must likewise submit to the  mystery of illusion as one of painting's most characteristic and sublime  powers. Bouguereau's vast repertory of playful and poetic images cannot  help but appeal to those who are fascinated with nature's appearances  and with the celebration of human sentiment frankly and unabashedly  expressed.         
                                           
But it remains to understand, given Bouguereau's in many  ways unique style, exactly what the artist was trying to represent.  Although Bouguereau has been classified by many writers as a Realist  painter, because of the apparent photographic nature of his illusions,  the painter otherwise has little in common with other artists belonging  to the Realist movement. Bouguereau himself regarded his tastes as  eclectic, and his work indeed exhibits characteristics peculiar to  Neo-Classicism, Romanticism, and Impressionism, as well as to Realism.  

Within these categories, the painter is perhaps best understood as a  Romantic Realist, but one would also be quite justified in this case in  devising an entirely new school of painting and labeling him the first,  the quintessential Photo-Idealist. The designation is apt in that,  although Bouguereau actively collected photographs and tempered his  observations of nature with a keen awareness of the qualities of light  inherent in the photographic image, he almost never worked from  photographs.1  

The rare exceptions are a few portraits, usually of posthumous  subjects, which are readily identifiable as photographic derivatives as  they exhibit an uncharacteristic flatness and pose.         
                      
Bouguereau and his fellow academicians practiced a method of  painting that had been developed and refined over the centuries in  order to bring to vivid life imagined scenes from history, literature,  and fantasy. The process of acquisition of the skills necessary to  produce a first-rate academic painting was a long and laborious one. 

...

             
The idealizations of Bouguereau's imaginary universe, which  have delighted some critics, have incurred the wrath of others. Although  some of the latter have loudly lamented the over-romanticized image of  the French peasant presented by the painter, few of them have bothered  to contemplate the heroic attention required to sustain such a vision of  perfection in a less than perfect age. Moreover, as Bouguereau's  contemporary Emile Bayard observed:         
                                   
It is good to note, in any case, that dirt and rags are not  exclusive to the underprivileged and that indigence is not always  clothed the same way. 4         
                      
A similar charge often leveled at Bouguereau is that his art  bears little or no relationship to the realities of political,  industrial, and urban life in nineteenth-century France. 

But if  Bouguereau's art ignores in its content the pressing issues of the day,  it may very well be because the artist, though well aware of them,  nevertheless prompts us to lift our eyes from the ground and focus upon  the lures of distant Arcadia; when misery is afoot, to exalt the more  pleasant possibilities of la vie champetre is not artistic falsehood.         
                      
If one pronounces Bouguereau to have been out of step with  his time, what must one then conclude about the many, many critics and  collectors and viewers who supported him and others of a similar  artistic persuasion? Could he really have achieved such prominence and  financial success by going against the grain of the "realities" of the  nineteenth century? 

Exactly what are those realities and exactly what  attitude was a visual artist obligated to take toward them? If the  accomplishments of Bouguereau are poorly understood today, that may have  something to do with the shifting of aesthetic expectations over time.  

As for Bouguereau's public, it was a public raised on  Raphael , a public that had not yet been conditioned to prefer abstract ideas to  the palpable images that give them utterance, a public that insisted  upon an obvious narrative content and that saw in Bouguereau someone  opposed to the trends it regarded as inimical to art. 

It may very well  be that a determining factor in Bouguereau's success as a painter, apart  from his talent, was that he allied himself to that sizeable,  conservative, and revisionist element of French Roman Catholicism which,  under the aegis of such men as Louis Veuillot , popular theologian and publisher of L'Univers, refused to yield to the attacks on traditional ideals that were current at the time.

The craft of picture-making as practiced by Bouguereau basically followed the principles of academic theory as codified by the seventeenth-century aesthetician Roger de Piles.

The code embodied the fundamental idea whereby a painting could be judged logically and objectively by its conformity to ideals established for its divisible parts, which were determined to be: composition, drawing, color harmony, and expression.

The method Bouguereau used to execute his important paintings provided ample opportunity for the study and resolution of problems that might arise in each of these areas.

The separate steps leading to the genesis of a painting were:

Croquis and tracings
Oil sketch and/or grisaille study
Highly finished drawings for all the figures in the composition, as well as drapery studies and foliage studies
Detailed studies in oil for heads, hands, animals, etc.
Cartoon; and, only then
the finished painting.

Evidently Bouguereau was constantly making croquis or “thumb nail sketches.” Often these preliminary studies were done during meetings at the Institut or in the evenings after supper.

For the most part they were scribbled from the artist’s memory or imagination, others were sketched directly from nature.

These drawings, hitherto unknown to the public, constitute a very important element of Bouguereau’s work. For one thing, they yield a wealth of information about the artist’s method.

They also show in many cases how a particular composition evolved. Executed either in pencil or ink, they served as a means of determining the grandes lignes, the important linear flows and arabesques, within the entire composition and within individual figure groups as well. They were often refined by means of successive tracings.

The oil sketches, grisailles, and compositional studies in vine charcoal served as means for determining appropriate color harmonies and for the “spotting” of lights and darks.

Like the croquis, these were usually executed from imagination and yielded a fairly abstract pattern of colors and greys upon which the artist would later superimpose his observations from nature.

The figure drawings represented the first important contact with nature in the evolution of the work. Among the considerations of the artist at this point were anatomy, pose, foreshortening, perspective, proportion and, to some degree, modeling. Although Bouguereau was reputed to have the best models in Paris, some of them were not always the most cooperative; as one observer noted:

Bouguereau's Italian model-women are instructed to bring their infant offspring, their tiny sisters and brothers, and the progeny of their highly prolific quarter. 

Once in the studio, the little human frogs are undressed and allowed to roll around on the floor, to play, to quarrel, and to wail in lamentation. 

They dirty up the room a great deal — they bring in a great deal of dirt that they do not make. They are neither savory nor aristocratic nor angelic, these brats from the embryo-land of Virgil. 

But out of them the artist makes his capital. Sketchbook in hand, he records their movements as they tumble on the floor; he draws the curves and turns of their aldermanic bodies, and he counts the creases of fat on their plump thighs as Audobon counted the scales on the legs of his humming-birds. 7

At times Bouguereau was obliged to use sculptural sources. J. Carroll Beckwith wrote:

Entering Bouguereau's studio one morning, before he had come up from his breakfast, I was studying with interest a large canvas half completed, representing a group of laughing children with a donkey [see cat. no. 72]. 

A gaudily attired Italian woman was endeavoring to pacify a curly-headed cherub, the model for the morning, who was ruthlessly rubbing his dirty fingers over some exquisite pencil drawings which lay on the floor at the foot of the easel. 

I rescued the drawings, while the mother apologetically explained to me in Neapolitan French that M. Bouguereau spoiled all of her children so that she could do nothing with them at home or elsewhere. 

The drawings were beautiful reproductions of the Laughing Faun in the sculpture gallery of the Louvre. 

As Bouguereau entered the room, he began a series of frolics with the youngster which quite verified the words of the mother. [When be stopped] at last to set his palette, I asked him when he had made the drawings. "Oh, you see, that mauvais sujet is so wicked", said he, pointing to the curly-headed urchin turning somersaults on the floor, "that I can use him for nothing but color and was obliged to spend nearly all of yesterday afternoon at the Louvre, making these notes for the form. 8

If a particular figure was to be clothed, Bouguereau would also make drapery studies by posing a mannequin in place of the model and experimenting with the folds of cloth until a disposition was found that enhanced the underlying forms.

Sometimes, especially for small or single-figure paintings, Bouguereau drew the model already draped.

Most of the figure drawings were executed in pencil or charcoal (or a combination of the two) and were often heightened with white. The support for them is usually a heavyweight toned paper of medium grain; such a background allowed Bouguereau to dispense with the problem of rendering troublesome halftones which, in any event, were more easily and accurately realized in the painted studies.

To read more about his techniques, please go HERE. It goes into great detail and goes into the various mixes he used. Great stuff for certain.

Can you imagine trying to do this today? Man oh man, you’d be locked up for-ever.

Alma Parens L’âme parentale

Wow. Oh wow. This is an allegorical painting with a ton-load of meaning. It means “The Motherland”.

Of course, the folk in Arkansas found this work “disgusting“, “abhorrent to normal sensibilities” and further evidence of my “sick nature” and “outrageously dangerous desires”.

Sigh.

And yeah, I get it.

You all don’t want to hear what the nit-wits think in Arkansas. But you are gonna hear about it here. You can leave if you don’t like to face reality. The last four years in Washington was populated with these exact kind of people. And no, I am not going to “let by-gones be by-gones”…

It’s a uni-party. There are no Republicans nor Democrats. There is just the 10% of psychopaths that run the nation, and the rest of us being treated like cattle in the process.

Is this too “salty” for ya?

I know that I am supposed to accept the fact that anything even remotely suggestive of children or sex is a threat to my very existence as I am now branded with the scarlet letter of being a “Sex Offender”. And I know that somehow, having those two images on my computer; the cartoon and the photo of the chick without clothes on created “victims”. I cannot reconcile how the image of a mother tending to her brood is in any way representative of the horrors so massively promoted in American media. You have to be a moron to connect the two…

…but, you know, have you looked at America today?

Know who you are dealing with, and recognize that these people still are in various positions in government today. Look at this jackass. Look at this pencil neck.

Tom Cotton (R-AR) is in a position of power to tell you how to live your life.

Hey, check out the kinds of bills that he was working on in 2020. Keep in mind this one very important point. Which of his sponsored bills actually helps and supports normal, working people inside his district in Arkansas. Yeah. go over the list.

Which ones?

Go over the list. Where during 2020 has he sponsored any legislation to help his citizens aside from the emergency related to Coronavirus? Instead it seems like he’s got a real problem with sex, China, and making sure that the Untied States government is protected against the citizenry.

Colors in RED are all about China. Yeah, he most certainly has a real “hard on” about China.
Colors in Blue are all about sexual exploitation of children.
Colors in PURPLE are all about making the government immune from protests and legal actions by the citizenry.
Colors in GOLD are for dealing with the Coronavirus.

S.5016: A bill to combat forced organ harvesting and trafficking in persons for purposes of the removal of organs, and for other purposes.

S.4998: Child Support Works Act of 2020

S.4978: Israel CENTCOM Reclassification Act

S.RES.794: A resolution urging the European Parliament to exempt certain technologies used to detect child sexual exploitation from European Union ePrivacy directive.

S.4965: Public Servant Protection Act of 2020

S.4843: Chinese Communist Party Influence Transparency Act

S.RES.751: A resolution expressing support for the designation of October 23, 2020, as a national day of remembrance of the tragic terrorist bombing of the United States Marine Corps barracks in Beirut, Lebanon, in 1983.

S.4768: AIM Act

S.4661: A bill to authorize the President to posthumously award the Medal of Honor to Alwyn C. Cashe for acts of valor during Operation Iraqi Freedom.

S.4648: A bill to amend the Controlled Substances Act to list isotonitazene as a schedule I controlled substance.

S.4631: Hong Kong Refugee Protection Act

S.4609: China Trade Relations Act of 2020

S.4553: Support Peaceful Protest Act

S.4551: Rioting Restitution Act

S.4550: No Catch-and-Release for Rioters Act

S.4483: Campus Free Speech Restoration Act

S.4445: Protect Our Prosecutors and Judges Act of 2020

S.4292: Saving American History Act of 2020

S.4130: American Foundries Act of 2020

S.4105: Washington-Grant Historic Preservation Act

S.4056: Restore Integrity of Special Prosecutors Act

S.3968: Better Community Policing Recognition Act

S.RES.613: A resolution calling for justice for George Floyd and opposing calls to defund the police.

S.3920: SECURE CAMPUS Act of 2020

S.3796: No Bailouts for Illegal Aliens Act

S.3662: Holding the Chinese Communist Party Accountable for Infecting Americans Act of 2020

S.3641: A bill to designate the area between the intersections of International Drive, Northwest and Van Ness Street, Northwest and International Drive, Northwest and International Place, Northwest in Washington, District of Columbia, as “Li Wenliang Plaza”, and

S.3661: Danger Pay for U.S. Marshals Act

S.3635: Protecting Our Pharmaceutical Supply Chain from China Act of 2020

S.3600: Li Wenliang Global Public Health Accountability Act of 2020

S.3537: Protecting Our Pharmaceutical Supply Chain from China Act of 2020

S.3522: Coronavirus TANF Expansion Act

S.3524: Coronavirus Credit Expansion Act

S.3523: Coronavirus Unemployment Insurance Expansion Act

S.3521: Coronavirus Economic Stimulus Act

S.3469: NETWORKS Act

S.3386: Protecting America From Foreign Investors Compromised by the Chinese Communist Party Act of 2020

S.3342: Zero Tolerance for Deceptive Fentanyl Trafficking Act

S.3322: Prevention of Deceptive or Child-Targeted Advertising in Violation of the Unlawful Internet Gambling Enforcement Act

S.RES.497: A resolution commemorating the life of Dr. Li Wenliang and calling for transparency and cooperation from the Government of the People’s Republic of China and the Communist Party of China.

S.3153: A bill to prohibit the sharing of United States intelligence with countries that permit the operation of Huawei fifth generation telecommunications technology within their borders.

He’s typical.

Do you really think he cares about people? Do you think that he cares about families? Do you think that he cares about anything other than money and hate?

Well… apparently God disagrees with me…

Evangelical Pastor Claims God Says, 'I'm Not Happy About ...
https://www.newsweek.com/evangelical-pastor-claims...

Nov 05, 2020 · Evangelical Pastor Claims God Says, 'I'm Not Happy About What You're Doing to My Man' Trump in Election. By Jason Lemon On 11/5/20 at 6:49 PM EST. U.S. Evangelicals Evangelical Christians Donald ...

These people… those that take the role in government… end up becoming a tool. They end up turning into something else. Something bad. And they allow terrible things to happen, because “they are just doing their job”...

Flagellation de Notre Seigneur Jesus Christ

The Flagellation of Christ, 1880 is one of Bouguereau's masterpieces, and today hangs at the Baptistery of La Rochelle Cathedral, France. Christ, tied to a column, limply hangs, his feet dragging on the ground and head hung back, he submits to his fate.

-Flagellation de Notre Seigneur Jesus Christ

The Flagellation of Christ, 1880 is one of Bouguereau's masterpieces, and today hangs at the Baptistery of La Rochelle Cathedral, France. Christ, tied to a column, limply hangs, his feet dragging on the ground and head hung back, he submits to his fate.

Two men stand in mid swing with their whipping ropes, with a third kneeling to the lower right fastening birch branches for the next stage of the torture. Unlike the two men who are whipping or the forth man standing behind with birch branches in the ready, the kneeling man tying the branches appears to show some remorse for his actions as his hand muscles loosen slightly with the pull of the string.

The viewer can feel the pain of Christ's torment, though his eyes are vacant of expression as if his soul is in another place. The crowd surrounding this event is filled with curious spectators.

To the left, a young boy shelters his eyes from the horrid sight by turning his back and pressing himself against his mother. To the right, just above Christ's head, a baby looks down at him sympathetically while hoisted up on his father's shoulders.

Through the crowd, a bearded man looks directly at the viewer, thereby pulling the audience into the scene as if they are too part of the crowd. It is possible that this bearded man with furrowed brow is a self portrait, so both Bouguereau and the viewer are witnessing this scene.

This life size capa d'opera is every bit as magnificent as any religious works done by Raphael, Caravaggio, or Velasquez. The harmonious interplay of drawing, paint handling, composition, perspective and emotional thrust are second to none in their expressive power.

-by Kara Lysandra Ross

Excerpt from the article: William Bouguereau and his Religious Works

And you know, the detective in charge of the entire raid and my case had some very piercing things to say about this work of art. And I have never forgotten her words…

“…this preoccupation with torture, young children, and nudes point to a serious mental illness that needs to be eradicated from our treasured citizenry…”

Yeah.

So you want to know what it was like for me being arrested and “investigated” in Arkansas…? Look at who the fuck is running that place, controlling the minds of the people there, and who are accumulating riches beyond compare. Look at them. For they ARE America.

Hard Right Religious Extremism and Law-Making makes for a dangerous situation.

Televangelist Pat Robertson says God told him Trump will ...
https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-8862797

Oct 21, 2020 · A televangelist has claimed that God told him President Donald Trump will win the upcoming election but that five years later an asteroid will hit …

Yah!

Beware of asteroids you all.

It’s all coo-coo!

When I joined MAJestic, I was instructed that I would be in it for life, but that I was forbidden to have children during my active engagements. I agreed, not realizing what that meant. I was also told that I would be alone, with no support and that I would not ever be rich or famous as that was a danger to the organization.

Maybe I was stupid for taking on this role? But I gave up so very much for this, and then to have myself retired like I was, and then have these jokers prance around in Washington DC like they do really upsets me.

I think that this exposure to what the American government is has taught me quite a bit as to what America has become; what it is, and where it is going. Unlike most Americans who read about this, or who read about that. I’ve experienced it first hand. Up front and viscerally. Don’t get all that caught up on what the media promotes. It’s all lies. Pay attending to the first-hand reports by others who’s veracity you can trust.

Cut out the bullshit.

Coocoo nest 1 — Americans mostly resemble the inmates in a mental asylum. And the American leadership is just as messed up and corrupted to a degree that is nearly unfathomable.

Anyways, art, like music is really meaningful to me. I remember an old black and white movies from the 1940s or 1950s where there is this guy in prison who paints. It’s his only love. It’s his only hobby. Then one day the warden visits him and see that the painter painted the warden. Not good. Not bad. But realistic. But the warden responded by taking away his ability to paint. And thus destroyed his only and sole source of happiness…

This theme was repeated in the movie “One flew over the Cuckoos nest”. Where as soon as one of the inmates showed any inkling or ability to resist the shackles that were around his legs, the powers that be made sure to destroy him beyond repair.

Coocoo nest 2 — Americans mostly resemble the inmates in a mental asylum. And the American leadership is just as messed up and corrupted to a degree that is nearly unfathomable.

Le Repos

In the ADC in Arkansas we were not permitted to have any fruit. None. And one inmate who was in there for a long, long time told me that he missed bananas. He said that he could picture them. He could smell them. He could remember peeling them. But that he hadn’t held or tasted a banana in over twenty years…

… yet when I look at these paintings I see a window to a time that is long gone. A quieter time, a more peaceful time, and a time where you could only commit a crime if there was a victim. There was no such things as a victimless crime, and that the fifth amendment guaranteed that I could confront my accuser in court. Not have that entire fail-safe ignored by a plea bargain.

These paintings and this art carries me away…

I just love these relaxed paintings. Maybe this kind of life will return back to America. What do you think?

This image represents my ideal.

Looking at the boys’ trousers makes me want to buy a new set of oils and brushes. I really want to paint those folds and shaded legs.

La Charité

Another lovely painting.

And yes. Yet another example of how “evil and disgusting” that I am for even suggesting that it is beautiful.

Yes, you know these people “talk with God” personally. And they know what evil is, and that they are the representation of what is good in the world and that which must be destroyed.

Don’t you know.

Look at this great representation of “good”…

“I had a very close talk with Jesus Christ this morning and he told me…”

Trump Will Start the End of the World, Claim Evangelicals ...
https://www.newsweek.com/trump-will-bring-about...

"For his evangelical supporters, there's a sense that Trump's unlikely election to the presidency proves that he has been chosen by God," Young told Newsweek. "He shouldn't have won the election ...

Entre la richesse et l’amour

This is an age-old issue. When a young lass can choose the life before her. While it is shown as extremes in age and wealth, the story persists. How can a woman in her blossoming years decide her future life? the translation of this painting is “Between wealth and Love”. And it speaks volumes. Don’t you think?

My favorite part of this painting is the young lass’s hands. That’s just pure art.

Le Saintes Femmes au Tombeau

Le Saintes Femmes au Tombeau, 1890, translated to The Holy Women at the Tomb, depicts the three Marys, Mary the Mother of James, Mary Magdalene and Mary of Cleophas, at the tomb of the resurrection. The viewer, compositionally, is placed in a prostrated position and looking up first notices the expressions of bewilderment on the central Mary's face before looking past the three women and into the tomb.

-Le Saintes Femmes au Tombeau

Compassion!

Donated by Bouguereau's descendents to the Musée D'Orsay, Paris, France, 2009

When one looks at The Compassion, 1897, at first glance the viewer may interpret this painting be simply a depiction of Christ on the Cross, with perhaps another saint, or victim.

A depiction not too different from thousands of other paintings of the subject; but in fact, the subject of this painting is not simply the event, but the conversion to Christianity through the compassion for the sacrifice Jesus made. The man with his head on Jesus' chest is a representation of every man and mankind as a whole.

The man in the painting shows the same empathy and bearing his own symbolic cross, has found his way to Jesus and his own redemption. Many Christians wear crosses around their necks to represent the same conviction, that they too have been sacrificed with Christ.

In the bible, when Jesus fell on his way to Calvary, a man from the crowd, Simon of Cyrene, went to Jesus and carried the cross for him, which was the inspiration for this widely accepted symbol.

The blood of Christ falls onto his hands, reiterating the blood sacrifice that was made for his benefit. On top of the cross a letter is posted which reads "Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews" in three languages, Greek, Latin, and Aramaic. Although in many depictions, Christ is crucified at the top of a mountain, Bouguereau chooses to depict the savior on a barren wasteland, symbolic of the man"s spiritual life before finding his way to Christ.

Bouguereau chose to keep this painting, which shows the importance his religion played in his own life, and it remained in his studio until its recent donation to the Musèe D'Orsay, Paris, France.

-by Kara Lysandra Ross

Excerpt from the article: William Bouguereau and his Religious Works

Berceuse

The painting, “Berceuse” is a delightful example of Bouguereau’s more domestic works. It shows a mother sitting in a rural landscape rocking her baby’s cradle as she works at spinning thread.

The title of the painting, “Berceuse” suggests that she is also singing a lullaby to her sleeping child at whom her calm, loving gaze is directed. The composition is strongly reminiscent of a Madonna and Child and the painting as a whole is beautifully executed.

We can see from this painting that Bouguereau was a master of traditional academic painting and why he had wide appeal, in France and abroad, during his lifetime.

His approach to art, was however, heavily criticized by the rising impressionist painters, many of whom found much of their work rejected by the Salon. Instead they embraced more modern types and works of art. And we all know where that ended up…

After his death his reputation fell steeply and his paintings were no longer admired but were seen as vacuous or overly sentimental. It is only in recent decades that his work has begun to be re-evaluated and his paintings, such as “Berceuse” appreciated once more for the skill, artistry and dedication that Bourguereau brought to his work.

The Proposal

What kind of proposal is it? Marriage?

Hardly.

Some kind of plan being hatched… curious. Very curious.

The motif of a young man at a window, wooing a woman at her spinning wheel, and the vaguely sixteenth-century German costumes and setting, led writers to associate this painting with the tragic story of Faust and Marguerite.

Johann Georg Faust was said to be an alchemist, astrologer, and magician who lived during the Renaissance period in Germany.

He was an aging scholar, but at the end of his life, he fell out of love with his previously devoted scholastic endeavors in the accumulation of human knowledge. He is said to have made a contract with the devil, selling his soul to enjoy and partake in reckless earthly pleasures. The one who lured Faust away from his scholarly endeavors was said to be Méphistophélès, a malevolent devil.

The story of Faust has served as inspiration for numerous literary, artistic, cinematographic and musical works throughout the ages. Even the mere term ‘Faust’ has been used to refer to ambitious people who are willing to exchange moral values for strength and success in certain fields.

La Damnation de Faust – Tragic destiny

‘La Damnation de Faust’ is often interpreted to describe a tragic destiny resulting from a false wish, a trope that still holds relevance in contemporary society.

In the classic play, Faust is presented as an aging scholar in desperation. He has spent his whole life in search of wisdom just to find that at the end of it all, he has gained nothing. Youth, happiness, and achievement have all slipped away from him. Even the search for wisdom can no longer inspire him. To set him free from sorrow and depression, he decides to seek death.

In a singular moment, the resounding sound of a church bell and hymn remind him of his youth, of the time when he still held faith in religion. But that fleeting moment does not last long before the appearance of Méphistophélès, a malevolent devil, is seen before him. Faust, desperate and depressed almost at the point of suicide, accepts the devil’s offer of returning to him his youth, knowledge, and the fulfillment of all of his deepest desires. In return, he must, however, follow the devil and fall under his command.

Seemingly, the vague and fleeting religious memory Faust experienced moments before the appearance of the devil was not enough to revive in him a strong faith in religion, in a God that he once had.|

Naturally, Faust now has all that he was craving, yet, there was no way for him to know where the journey ahead would lead him.

After Méphistophélès fulfills his side of the bargain he encourages Faust to seduce Marguerite, an innocent girl whom Faust had an unrequited love for, and then abandon her, alone and pregnant.

Faust and Marguerite in the Garden, by James Tissot (1861). (Wikimedia Commons/Public domain)

Her life falls into ruin and, so, in an effort to save his lover, Faust agrees to relinquish his soul to devil Méphistophélès. With this decision, he gives the devil every reason and ability to drag him to hell. Which he does, tragically and immediately. Perhaps his final destiny was predetermined from the very moment he accepted the offer of the devil Méphistophélès.

It is a tale that resembles the story of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. The devil Méphistophélès plays a role not dissimilar to the role of the serpent that tempted Eve to take a bite of the apple. Once Adam and Eve succumbed to the serpent to eat the forbidden fruit, it was determined that they would be expelled from the Garden of Eden.

In the case of Faust, he yields to lust and worldly desires and culminates in hell. It is the inevitable fate for the one that chooses to go against good and side with evil.

The story of Faust: An awakening bell

In the contemporary era of the robust development of science and technology, in most cases, science and knowledge play a positive role in society, but at times, it can assume a negative role, as well. Especially when the scholars and scientists ignore moral and humanistic values, and put their fame and interest on top, they would disregard any adverse impact that their work might impose on humanity.

Don’t we catch the image of Faust in communist philosophers, in surgeons involved in live organ harvesting from Falun Gong practitioners and in the development of nuclear warfare, to name a few?

No matter what excuse they can make, the undermining effect on human society that they exert is irrefutable.

In this aspect, the story of Faust can still prove its relevance to today’s society and serve as the awakening bell for those who choose to go down that path.

-La Damnation de Faust

The seduction of the innocent heroine by the wicked Faust was a popular pictorial subject in the nineteenth century, inspired by Goethe’s dramatic poem and its operatic staging by Charles Gounod.

Regardless of the lovers’ identities, the lushly painted, romantic scene would have appealed to Bouguereau’s well-heeled clientele.

Admiration Maternelle – Le Bain

'M. Bouguereau is a true artist, one of the most accomplished in Paris.'

-Edmond About, 1866

Beginning in 1865, Bouguereau became interested in themes of mothers and children and he began a series of paintings devoted to this subject matter. These classically-informed images were greatly influenced by his travels throughout Italy in the 1850s.

Trekking from Naples all the way to Venice over a two year period, Bouguereau was frequently confronted by religious imagery, and he was particularly impressed with the works of Raphael.

These images of mothers and children may have been further reinforced by the birth of the artist’s fourth child in 1868, a son named Adolphe Paul. It was also in this year that the artist moved his family into the house on rue Notre-Dame-des-Champs, with its large studio on the top floor of the house.

Admiration maternelle – le bain, most likely painted in the artist’s studio in 1869, depicts a young Roman mother holding her naked baby on her lap. The baby clasps an orange before him, while his older sister looks on adoringly, her hands folded together as if in prayer.

These three figures, clearly a secularized interpretation of a Holy Family or Madonna and Child with St. John, are bathed in a clear warm light which illuminates the freshly washed hair of the baby, creating a halo around his head and enhancing the association with the Christ Child.

The bowl and washcloth occupy the immediate center of the composition, bringing to mind the chalice and cloth of the Liturgy of the Eucharist. The room behind the figural group is softened by the shadows of the recesses of the interior, thereby heightening the importance of the figural group.

There is a photograph in the Goupil Museum in Bordeaux and in Bouguereau’s own collection of what appears to be this work (Ross and Bartoli, 1869/02) without the linen towel and basin, a different bench and a slightly different background. 

It is possible that the initial purchaser of the painting asked for the changes to be made, as was the case with La Bohémienne, which also had two different backgrounds.

Admiration maternelle was in the collection of George Small of Baltimore by 1879, and remained in the Small family until 1984. George Small was the President of the Ashland Iron Company and a director of the Northern Central Railroad and the Baltimore and Potomac Railroad. He amassed a fortune, but he and his wife had no children, so the painting passed to his brother’s family upon his death in 1891.

Admiration Maternelle

He does capture the moment perfectly. Doesn’t he?

I love his work. I really do.

Conclusions

The artist was master of his medium and in control of his life in that time, and at that place…

In a corner of the garden measuring some two hundred square feet, he arranged his outdoor studio; and in the orangery he set up his interior studio. At six in the morning, rain or shine, drizzle or wind, escorted by his three dogs and a servant, he sets out for a two-hour walk through the fields or along the seashore. Once home, he has a cup of tea and settles down to work. At eleven, the family gathers for lunch; at one, he resumes work with his model and continues until six in the evening, with a few short breaks.
 
Then the painter picks up his rustic cane and his soft-felt hat and leaves, a cigarette between his lips, like any ordinary bourgeois, for a walk around the harbor, to watch the sun set on the sea.
 
When the town clocks chime seven, he goes back home for dinner; and at ten, it is curfew time. At dawn on Sundays, the master and his wife climb into a carriage to meet a childhood friend, an architect in a neighboring village, for an outing in the countryside or, during hunting season, to take a few pot shots, in his own words, "at hypothetical quails or the occasional rabbit."

When I look at these beautiful art works I still have stirrings of emotions. But that is now tainted with memories of the experiences that I had in Arkansas.

Memories that came into being by the actions of the government there; a government that employed people from both political parties… working in unison for their own self-worth and future fortunes. Greedy fucks. Ignorant of the true realities and consequences of their actions and their activities.

You take something that I enjoyed and you poison it with bad memories. It’s that the very fundamental nature of PTSD?

Memories that were and still are painful.

In fact, I often wonder if this was it’s intended purpose, by a some gleeful evil psychopaths to forever alter my love of art and to convert it and change it into something substantially different.

Into a ugly and foul thing…

Much like the premise in the movie A Clockwork Orange.

A controversial and offensive masterpiece. tyson-hunsaker31 January 2017

Anyone looking to watch A Clockwork Orange might be wanting to revisit some of Stanley Kubrik's work and might be interested in studying this film. Those who have already seen this film tend to already have strong opinions regarding this dark sci-fi movie but for me, I approached this film recently to obtain an opinion for myself and study one of the great masters of cinema.

The fact that this film was regarded as one of the most controversial films ever made (rightfully so) sparked genuine curiosity to give this flick a full viewing and while I have large issues with the film, the experience as a whole was both satisfying and a learning experience.

This story centers on "Alex" our main protagonist and his gang of hoodlums set in a not so distant, dystopian Great Britain. The beginning portion unfolds Alex's dark and twisted soul as we watch him and his gang fight, rape, and kill.

When he's eventually caught, he undergoes controversial "treatment" to be cured of his dark soul.

I first appreciated the inmate concepts of this story and the type of questions the story attempted to raise to the audience. Furthermore, much of the psychological ideologies surrounding freedom, choice, good vs evil, and selfishness were extremely thought-provoking. It had a way of making me feel self-exploratory despite the character's complete inability to relate with (hopefully) any viewer.

Performances were top notch; especially from the lead: Malcom McDowell. His performance felt so authentic there's never a single moment that feels fake or forced with his dark character. As always, Stanley Kubrick directs the hell out of this. His commanding and authoritative shooting style is apparent in every frame of the picture and he does a wonderful job at sucking the viewer into this terrible world to the point of enthrallment.

While all these positives make for a great movie-going experience and when Kubrick is at the director's helm not much can go wrong, the film's biggest downfall is indeed its controversy. Disturbing subject matter in this piece is indeed vital to the essence of the story but taking off the gloves when it comes to fighting, rape, and killing (especially the rape) make this so incredibly disturbing that it's difficult to muscle through.

I found that A Clockwork Orange was not only offense because of its disturbing content, it was personally offensive in so many ways. Frankly, these extremely rare and offensive movie experiences are not quite the reason I enjoy films in the first place; stories can still be thought-provoking while not morally offend and damage the viewer internally. In addition, a viewer looking to study the work of Stanley Kubrick can still experience some of cinema's greatest and transcendent experiences without feeling like their conscience has blackened.

It's understandable that not everyone feels this way; just as stated before, opinions about this film are all across the board. As time has passed however, A Clockwork Orange has stood out has one of Kubrick's finest and has been adored by die-hard fans so much its fan base has grown over the years.

The best advice to give is to see it for yourself. Much like all other Kubrick films, relying on anyone's opinion won't help one bit. Seeing it and deciding for yourself is the best course of action. That being said, despite it's strong artistic merit, I wouldn't recommend seeing it simply because of the morally offensive and sickening content that most don't appreciate. Overall, it's been the hardest one to review in a long time because it's not a simple: see it or don't see it. There's much more to this picture than that. If you do decide to see it though, be warned and well prepared. If not, that's probably just fine too.

There is nothing different from my “reprogramming” by the Arkansas government, and what happened to Alex in the movie “A Clockwork Orange”.

Perhaps China is correct in preventing their nation any kind of access by these evil, evil people. People who have no compassion. People who cannot see beauty and purpose. People who look good, and say the right things, but are corrupted, and evil to their fundamental core.

Evil people.

In positions of extreme power…

…in a dying military empire.

Are inherently dangerous.

Six of the thirty that have been sanctioned by China in January 2021.

Back in Rome

All this reminds me of the behaviors of the government of Rome when it was at the height of decay and corruption. Consider their idea for a “half time show” in the Arena…

The enormous arena was empty, save for the seesaws and the dozens of  condemned criminals who sat naked upon them, hands tied behind their  backs. Unfamiliar with the recently invented contraptions known as petaurua,  the men tested the seesaws uneasily. One criminal would push off the  ground and suddenly find himself 15 feet in the air while his partner on  the other side of the seesaw descended swiftly to the ground. How strange. 

In  the stands, tens of thousands of Roman citizens waited with half-bored  curiosity to see what would happen next and whether it would be  interesting enough to keep them in their seats until the next part of  the "big show" began. 

With a flourish, trapdoors in the floor of the arena were opened,  and lions, bears, wild boars and leopards rushed into the arena. The  starved animals bounded toward the terrified criminals, who attempted to  leap away from the beasts' snapping jaws. But as one helpless man flung  himself upward and out of harm's way, his partner on the other side of  the seesaw was sent crashing down into the seething mass of claws, teeth  and fur. 

The crowd of Romans began to laugh at the dark antics before them.  Soon, they were clapping and yelling, placing bets on which criminal  would die first, which one would last longest and which one would  ultimately be chosen by the largest lion, who was still prowling the  outskirts of the arena's pure white sand. [See Photos of the Combat Sports Played in Ancient Rome]

And with that, another "halftime show" of damnatio ad bestias  succeeded in serving its purpose: to keep the jaded Roman population  glued to their seats, to the delight of the event's scheming organizer. 

The Roman Games were the Super Bowl Sundays of their time. They gave their ever-changing sponsors and organizers (known as editors)  an enormously powerful platform to promote their views and philosophies  to the widest spectrum of Romans. All of Rome came to the Games: rich  and poor, men and women, children and the noble elite alike. They were  all eager to witness the unique spectacles each new game promised its  audience.

To the editors, the Games represented power,  money and opportunity. Politicians and aspiring noblemen spent  unthinkable sums on the Games they sponsored in the hopes of swaying  public opinion in their favor, courting votes, and/or disposing of any  person or warring faction they wanted out of the way. 

The more  extreme and fantastic the spectacles, the more popular the Games with  the general public, and the more popular the Games, the more influence  the editor could have. Because the Games could make or break the reputation of their organizers, editors planned every last detail meticulously. 

Thanks to films like "Ben-Hur" and "Gladiator," the two most popular elements of the Roman Games are well known even to this day: the chariot races and the gladiator fights.  Other elements of the Roman Games have also translated into modern  times without much change: theatrical plays put on by costumed actors,  concerts with trained musicians, and parades of much-cared-for exotic  animals from the city's private zoos. 

But much less discussed,  and indeed largely forgotten, is the spectacle that kept the Roman  audiences in their seats through the sweltering midafternoon heat: the  blood-spattered halftime show known as damnatio ad bestias — literally "condemnation by beasts" — orchestrated by men known as the bestiarii.

Super Bowl 242 B.C: How the Games Became So Brutal

The  cultural juggernaut known as the Roman Games began in 242 B.C., when  two sons decided to celebrate their father's life by ordering slaves to  battle each other to the death at his funeral. This new variation of  ancient munera (a tribute to the dead) struck a chord within  the developing republic. Soon, other members of the wealthy classes  began to incorporate this type of slave fighting into their own munera. The practice evolved over time — with new formats, rules, specialized weapons, etc. — until the Roman Games as we now know them were born. 

In  189 B.C., a consul named M. Fulvius Nobilior decided to do something  different. In addition to the gladiator duels that had become common, he  introduced an animal act that would see humans fight both lions and  panthers to the death. Big-game hunting was not a part of Roman culture;  Romans only attacked large animals to protect themselves, their  families or their crops. 

Nobilior realized that the spectacle of animals  fighting humans would add a cheap and unique flourish to this fantastic  new pastime. Nobilior aimed to make an impression, and he succeeded. [Photos: Gladiators of the Roman Empire]
With  the birth of the first "animal program," an uneasy milestone was  achieved in the evolution of the Roman Games: the point at which a human  being faced a snarling pack of starved beasts, and every laughing  spectator in the crowd chanted for the big cats to win, the point at  which the republic's obligation to make a man's death a fair or  honorable one began to be outweighed by the entertainment value of watching him die.

Twenty-two years later, in 167 B.C., Aemlilus Paullus would give Rome its first damnatio ad bestias when  he rounded up army deserters and had them crushed, one by one, under  the heavy feet of elephants. "The act was done publicly," historian  Alison Futrell noted in her book "Blood in the Arena," "a harsh object lesson for those challenging Roman authority."

The  "satisfaction and relief" Romans would feel watching someone considered  lower than themselves be thrown to the beasts would become, as  historian Garrett G. Fagan noted in his book "The Lure of the Arena,"  a "central … facet of the experience [of the Roman Games. … a feeling  of shared empowerment and validation … " In those moments, Rome began  the transition into the self-indulgent decadence that would come to  define all that we associate with the great society's demise.

The Role of Julius Caesar
General Julius  Caesar proved to be the first true maestro of the Games. He understood  how these events could be manipulated to inspire fear, loyalty and  patriotism, and began to stage the Games in new and ingenious ways. For  example, Caesar was the first to arrange fights between recently  captured armies, gaining firsthand knowledge of the fighting techniques  used by these conquered people and providing him with powerful insights  to aid future Roman conquests, all the while demonstrating the  republic's own superiority to the roaring crowd of Romans. After all,  what other city was powerful enough to command foreign armies to fight  each other to the death, solely for their viewing pleasure? 

Caesar  used exotic animals from newly conquered territories to educate Romans  about the empire's expansion. In one of his games, "Animals for Show and Pleasure in Ancient Rome"  author George Jennison notes that Caesar orchestrated "a hunt of four  hundred lions, fights between elephants and infantry … [and] bull  fighting by mounted Thessalians." Later, the first-ever giraffes seen in  Rome arrived — a gift to Caesar himself from a love-struck Cleopatra.

To execute his very specific visions, Caesar relied heavily on the bestiarii —  men who were paid to house, manage, breed, train and sometimes fight  the bizarre menagerie of animals collected for the Games. 

Managing and training this ever-changing influx of beasts was not an easy task for the bestiarii.  Wild animals are born with a natural hesitancy, and without training,  they would usually cower and hide when forced into the arena's center.  For example, it is not a natural instinct for a lion to attack and eat a human being,  let alone to do so in front of a crowd of 100,000 screaming Roman men,  women and children! And yet, in Rome's ever-more-violent culture,  disappointing an editor would spell certain death for the low-ranking bestiarii. 

To avoid being executed themselves, bestiarii  met the challenge. They developed detailed training regimens to ensure  their animals would act as requested, feeding arena-born animals a diet  compromised solely of human flesh, breeding their best animals, and  allowing their weaker and smaller stock to be killed in the arena. Bestiarii  even went so far as to instruct condemned men and women on how to  behave in the ring to guarantee a quick death for themselves — and a  better show. The bestiarii could leave nothing to chance. 

As their reputations grew, bestiarii were given the power to independently devise new and even more audacious spectacles for the ludi meridiani (midday executions). And by the time the Roman Games had grown popular enough to fill 250,000-seat arenas, the work of the bestiarii had become a twisted art form. 

As  the Roman Empire grew, so did the ambition and arrogance of its  leaders. And the more arrogant, egotistic and unhinged the leader in  power, the more spectacular the Games would become. Who better than the bestiarii to aid these despots in taking their version of the Roman Games to new, ever-more grotesque heights? 

Caligula Amplified the Cruelty
Animal spectacles became bigger, more elaborate, and more flamboyantly cruel.
 Damnatio ad bestias became the preferred method of executing criminals and enemies alike. So important where the bestiarii's  contribution, that when butcher meat became prohibitively expensive,  Emperor Caligula ordered that all of Rome's prisoners "be devoured" by  the bestiarii's packs of starving animals. In his masterwork De  Vita Caesarum, Roman historian Gaius Suetonius Tranquillus (b. 69 A.D.)  tells of how Caligula sentenced the men to death "without examining the  charges" to see if death was a fitting punishment, but rather by  "merely taking his place in the middle of a colonnade, he bade them be  led away 'from baldhead to baldhead,'"(It should also be noted that  Caligula used the funds originally earmarked for feeding the animals and  the prisoners to construct temples he was building in his own honor!)

To meet this ever-growing pressure to keep the Roman crowds happy and engaged by bloodshed, bestiarii  were forced to consistently invent new ways to kill.
 They devised  elaborate contraptions and platforms to give prisoners the illusion they  could save themselves — only to have the structures collapse at the  worst possible moments, dropping the condemned into a waiting pack of  starved animals. Prisoners were tied to boxes, lashed to stakes, wheeled  out on dollies and nailed to crosses, and then, prior to the animals'  release, the action was paused so that bets could be made in the crowd  about which of the helpless men would be devoured first. 

Perhaps most popular — as well as the most difficult to pull off — were the re-creations of death scenes from famous myths and legends. A single bestiarius might spend months training an eagle in the art of removing a thrashing man's organs (a la the myth of Prometheus).

The halftime show of damnatio ad bestias  became so notorious that it was common for prisoners to attempt suicide  to avoid facing the horrors they knew awaited them. Roman philosopher  and statesmen Seneca recorded a story of a German prisoner who, rather than be killed in a bestiarius'  show, killed himself by forcing a communally used prison lavatory  sponge down his throat. One prisoner who refused to walk into the arena  was placed on a cart and wheeled in; the prisoner thrust his own head  between the spokes of its wheels, preferring to break his own neck than  to face whatever horrors the bestiarius had planned for him.

It is in this era that Rome saw the rise of its most famous bestiarius, Carpophorus, "The King of the Beasts." 

The Rise of a Beast Master
Carpophorus was  celebrated not only for training the animals that were set upon the  enemies, criminals and Christians of Rome, but also for famously taking  to the center of the arena to battle the most fearsome creatures  himself.

He triumphed in one match that pitted him against a bear,  a lion and a leopard, all of which were released to attack him at once.  Another time, he killed 20 separate animals in one battle, using only  his bare hands as weapons. His power over animals was so unmatched that the poet Martial wrote odes to Carpophorus.

"If  the ages of old, Caesar, in which a barbarous earth brought forth wild  monsters, had produced Carpophorus," he wrote in his best known work,  Epigrams. "Marathon would not have feared her bull, nor leafy Nemea her  lion, nor Arcadians the boar of Maenalus. When he armed his hands, the  Hydra would have met a single death; one stroke of his would have  sufficed for the entire Chimaera. He could yoke the fire-bearing bulls  without the Colchian; he could conquer both the beasts of Pasiphae. If  the ancient tale of the sea monster were recalled, he would release  Hesione and Andromeda single-handed. Let the glory of Hercules'  achievement be numbered: it is more to have subdued twice ten wild  beasts at one time."

To have his work compared so fawningly to  battles with some of Rome’s most notorious mythological beast sheds some  light on the astounding work Carpophorus was doing within the arena,  but he gained fame as well for his animal work behind the scenes.  Perhaps most shockingly, it was said that he was among the few bestiarii  who could command animals to rape human beings, including bulls,  zebras, stallions, wild boars and giraffes, among others. This  crowd-pleasing trick allowed his editors to create ludi meridiani  that could not only combine sex and death but also claim to be honoring  the god Jupiter. After all, in Roman mythology, Jupiter took many  animal forms to have his way with human women. 

Historians still  debate how common of an occurrence public bestiality was at the Roman  Games — and especially whether forced bestiality was used as a form of  execution — but poets and artists of the time wrote and painted about  the spectacle with a shocked awe. 

"Believe that Pasiphae coupled  with the Dictaean bull!" Martial wrote. "We've seen it! The Ancient Myth  has been confirmed! Hoary antiquity, Caesar, should not marvel at  itself: whatever Fame sings of, the arena presents to you."

The 'Gladiator' Commodus
The Roman Games and the work of the bestiarii  may have reached their apex during the reign of Emperor Commodus, which  began in 180 AD. By that time, the relationship between the emperors  and the Senate had disintegrated to a point of near-complete  dysfunction. The wealthy, powerful and spoiled emperors began acting out  in such debauched and deluded ways that even the working class "plebs"  of Rome were unnerved. But even in this heightened environment, Commodus  served as an extreme.

Having little interest in running the  empire, he left most of the day-to-day decisions to a prefect, while  Commodus himself indulged in living a very public life of debauchery.  His harem contained 300 girls and 300 boys (some of whom it was said had  so bewitched the emperor as he passed them on the street that he felt  compelled to order their kidnapping). But if there was one thing that  commanded Commodus' obsession above all else, it was the Roman Games. He  didn't just want to put on the greatest Games in the history of Rome;  he wanted to be the star of them, too. 

Commodus began to fight as a gladiator. Sometimes, he arrived dressed in lion pelts, to evoke Roman hero Hercules; other times, he entered the ring absolutely naked  to fight his opponents. To ensure a victory, Commodus only fought  amputees and wounded soldiers (all of whom were given only flimsy wooden  weapons to defend themselves). In one dramatic case recorded in  Scriptores Historiae Augustae, Commodus ordered that all people missing  their feet be gathered from the Roman streets and be brought to the  arena, where he commanded that they be tethered together in the rough  shape of a human body. Commodus then entered the arena's center ring,  and clubbed the entire group to death, before announcing proudly that he  had killed a giant. 

But being a gladiator wasn't enough for him.  Commodus wanted to rule the halftime show as well, so he set about  creating a spectacle that would feature him as a great bestiarius.  He not only killed numerous animals — including lions, elephants,  ostriches and giraffes, among others, all of which had to be tethered or  injured to ensure the emperor's success — but also killed bestiarii  whom he felt were rivals (including Julius Alexander, a bestiarius who  had grown beloved in Rome for his ability to kill an untethered lion  with a javelin from horseback). Commodus once made all of Rome sit and  watch in the blazing midday sun as he killed 100 bears in a row — and  then made the city pay him 1 millions esterces (ancient Roman coins) for the (unsolicited) favor.

By the time Commodus demanded the city of Rome be renamed Colonia Commodiana ("City of Commodus") — Scriptores Historiae Augustae,  noted that not only did the Senate "pass this resolution, but … at the  same time [gave] Commodus the name Hercules, and [called] him a god" — a  conspiracy was already afoot to kill the mad leader. A motley crew of  assassins — including his court chamberlain, Commodus' favorite  concubine, and "an athlete called Narcissus, who was employed as  Commodus' wrestling partner" — joined forces to kill him and end his  unhinged reign. His death was supposed to restore balance and  rationality to Rome — but it didn't. By then, Rome was broken — bloody,  chaotic and unable to stop its death spiral. 

In an ultimate irony, reformers who stood up to oppose the culture's  violent and debauched disorder were often punished by death at the hands  of the bestiarii, their deaths cheered on by the very same Romans whom they were trying to protect and save from destruction. 

The Death of the Games and the Rise of Christianity
As  the Roman Empire declined, so did the size, scope and brutality of its  Games. However, it seems fitting that one of the most powerful seeds of  the empire's downfall could be found within its ultimate sign of  contempt and power — the halftime show of damnatio ad bestias.
 
Early Christians were among the most popular victims in ludi meridiani.  The emperors who condemned these men, women and children to public  death by beasts did so with the obvious hope that the spectacle would be  so horrifying and humiliating that it would discourage any other Romans  from converting to Christianity.

Little did they realize that the tales of brave Christians facing certain death with grace, power and humility  made them some of the earliest martyr stories. Nor could they have  imagined that these oft-repeated narratives would then serve as  invaluable tools to drive more people toward the Christian faith for  centuries to come. 

In the end, who could have ever imagined that  these near-forgotten "halftime shows" might prove to have a more lasting  impact on the world than the gladiators and chariot races that had  overshadowed the bestiarii for their entire existence?

Read more from Aptowicz in her Expert Voices essay, "Surgery in a Time Before Anesthesia."

The argument about the comparisons between ancient Rome and America today is that the horrific tortures and debauchery just does not occur in America today.

I beg to differ.

I argue that the horrors committed by the national leadership and the techniques of manipulation of the people may have changed form, but they have not been eliminated. Rather, they exist in other ways, other means, and using other technology.

America today

Ah it’s time to return back to a simpler time when people like these would never ever get an opportunity to go anywhere next to the levers of power. A simpler time when people lived life in absolute freedom and never knew fear, 24-7 surveillance, and did not fear their government. A time much as was portrayed in the classical art venues.

And these evil men; these evil people? What got them there to the positions of power and absolute corruption that they currently enjoy?

A corrupt “democratic” process. That is what.

What ever happens in the United States, and no matter what changes will be implemented, any kind of democratic institution of any kind will revert to this exact same game-plan. Nothing will change. The founders of the Untied States were absolutely correct. A democracy turns into a corrupt oligarchy and unless countered, evolves into a dangerous military empire. And the citizens… well… they devolve into frightened sheep, ready for dinner.

Oh, and what happened to my own personal paintings?

You might want to know what happened to all my art that I created, my painting supplies, my painting easel, and my paints. You might want to know what happened to my loves, my dreams and my passions…

While I was incarcerated, my father handled my belongings. He held a yard sale and sold the painting for a $1 each. One man decided to buy them all up. He said that he really liked them, and they was going to use the paintings (all were oil on wood panel) to “wallpaper” his walls with. So …

… I well remember the beaming pride that my father had when he handed me a check for some $350 odd dollars. Not realizing that the materials alone were worth ten times that amount.

…and my other belongings…

The remaining belongings were put on the sidewalk and hauled away as trash. My books were collected and given to a friend to watch over. Who later suddenly dies, and his sister sold all of them in bulk to a used book seller.

He saved one suitcase and some articles of clothing, some things that were truly “WTF did he save this for”, and the screws (?) to my massive king-sized solid hardwood bed, that he simply threw away. (I paid over $3500 for that thick massive bed back in 1998. It was totally and completely awesome!) Everything else was destroyed, lost or sold off for pennies on the dollar.

My cars… he gave them away.

My Toyota Celica was driven to the dealership. He handed them the keys. Said I was in prison and didn’t want the car any longer.
My Cadillac Deville. was discovered with sliced tires, a engine (and transmission) filled with sugar and totally gummed up and useless. (It was towed away to a junk yard.)
My Ford T-Bird was left in the airport. I asked my father to get the car for me. I was in prison and was unable to get it out of the lot. But it was too much of a hassle. So he called the parking lot owner and told them “the situation”. Instead of being understanding they responded with “Sex Offender! Tough shit! That car is mine now!” and classified it as abandoned and started the necessary legal paperwork to claim it as their own.

His response to me was “you can go get new ones when you get out of prison.”

With what, Dad? My good looks and a spit shine? Not even McDonald’s would hire me.

But things do have a way of turning around.

Just today I read an interesting article;

At Voice of America, a sweeping ouster of Trump officials on Biden’s first full day

The last four years of non-stop HATE CHINA! propaganda is ending. And those people who drove that narrative and forced the complete “fire hose” of disinformation, lies, distortions and insults are not only being axed and sent out the door, but they are being applauded by the working folk as they leave too. Good riddance…

One VOA journalist said Pack's resignation triggered "sighs of relief and cheers" among employees. She called Pack's resignation "a first step toward a return to normalcy."

Do you want more?

I have more posts in my Art Index here…

ART

Articles & Links

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Humanity breaks out all over the world. Good signs are everywhere.

This post is about people. It’s about families. It’s about relationships. It’s about cultures, societies, and life. It’s about lifestyle. And I want to start the year with a good humane post that discusses these elements in our life.

Unlike previous years, there seems to be an increase in videos and movies about humanity. Sure there’s the action videos, and lots and lots of guns. There’s monsters and super heroes, but a new kind of video is emerging from the old. It’s a video about people and their humanity. And these videos are becoming more an more common.

This article, this post, highlights those videos.

Please kick on the picture to see the video. It will open up in another tab. Allow some time for it to load. Most videos are in the 20MB range, but one is 65MB. I do hope that you all will enjoy them as much as I have.

A Chinese video about a father and his daughter..

The night before my father died, he left me an email message. It was a stupid one-sentence email along the likes of “do you have the link for the website we talked about?” And I kept that message. It’s still there, sitting in a dusty file folder on my long disused Yahoo! account. And account I only refresh every year or so to keep my old archives and records intact.

The following is a video. It’s a Chinese video. It’s about a man, now an old man. He’s a man, a father, who likes to listen to the voice-mail message left by his (now dead) daughter. We don’t know how she died, or what their personal situation is. But we do know that they had a relationship, and hearing her voice was very important to him. So important that he has paid for her cell-phone account to stay active for years and years.

But then suddenly, her voice-message disappears. And a story ensues…

I hope that you all enjoyed this video as much as I have. You don’t need to understand Chinese. Just watch what is going on.

So what might the oligarchs think of Chinese people with their resounding support for the Communist Party of China? 

They will hate them  with every bone in their body, they will be furious that this country  resists and denies them a chance to plunder it - yet again. 

The  oligarchic death cult will be extremely angry that a single country  presents an excellent and achievable system of government and financial  management and community betterment to all the other nations on earth.
 
-Posted by: uncle tungsten | Jan  5 2021 20:48 utc | 14

Two strangers in Europe

This next video is about two strangers. It’s a European video. And they get stuck in an elevator. You know those places where you just stand and focus on the lighted numbers, the buttons or the advertisements on the walls. never communicating with the other people that you share that brief moment of time with.

Enjoy, it’s actually a little cute.

That was good. Right? A nice fun and kind of cute video. But the message is important.

How are you going to behave this month?

A sense of community.

In the next video we have a typical small family run business. These places are everywhere in China. You can get a breakfast for under $1. Usually some hot Jiu (which is a rice porridge soup), some Baozi (which is a small roll with meat or vegetables inside), some noodles, and some sweet bean drink. The business is thriving…

…but there is an emergency and the entire family must leave now. And all the people are stuck with no one to serve them, and the family devoid of income for the say. What is going to happen? As these establishments typically don’t have doors, are out in the open, with the family living in the back room watching the store.

What is going to happen?

It’s all about community.

It’s all about community and our role in it.

Lets look at what China plans to do over the next 5 years. The article provides a very broad explanation then links to some specifics at the bottom, the item about the Yangtze River Economic Belt being most important. I found this bit of reporting highly important:

"More specifically, these days the government uses the five-year plans to reinforce and complement the market dynamic by providing regulation and guidance. That includes providing the legal and social framework, such as issuing monetary and fiscal policies, providing public goods and services, such as building high-speed rails, and correcting for market failures like pollution."

There's a vast difference in focus between China and the West--China's sharply focused on its development in ways the West isn't whatsoever, and it makes certain its citizenry knows that and everyone's working as a team--every job has its own value and is important.

The best explanation I have is that China is doing while the West is watching and not doing; therefore, China continues to grow ahead of those standing watching with their jaws agape.

China outnumbers the Outlaw US Empire by more than one billion people. That's a huge team working together to advance their nation and themselves.

Within the US Empire, at least 30% of the labor force is idle and not even counted for unemployment purposes since they aren't actively looking for non-existent jobs while about 24% of the active labor force is unemployed. That's 54% of your human capital that's not being used at all to better themselves and their nation. Honestly, which one has the better outlook?

- Posted by: karlof1 | Jan 5 2021 22:57 utc | 28

Bravery, sacrifice and respect

The next movie consists of excerpts from a Chinese war drama.

Most Americans haven’t a clue to the fact that China has been embroiled in centuries of very, very bloody warfare. People have suffered well enough, and one of the great polices of modern Communist China is to avoid war and get off that “bandwagon” of exporting “communism”, or “democracy” to the rest of the world.

Instead, China has adopted a “live and let live” attitude, and all of China, from the laws, to the media play this narrative over and over.

Never the less, if you need to fight, you fight to the best of your ability. And you do your best. You fight for family, and your die for family. For in China your community is who you are.

Which is the opposite of what it is in America.

In America, it is “every man for himself“, it’s a “dog eat dog” world and you need to “carve out a life for yourself“, or you are a failure. So in America you don’t have teams. You don’t have families. Instead you have successful individuals.

Instead of Huawei’s leadership committee supported by the Huawei engineering group, you have Elon Musk.

You have Jeff Bezos, you have Hugh Hefner, you have Bill Gates, and you have Donald J. Trump.

In Chinese movies the emphasis is on being the best you can be as part of something bigger. While in American movies it is the individual that fights against all odds.

This next clip is a Chinese war drama. Notice the depictions of bravery for the community of friends. It’s all very Chinese, but maybe…

…just maybe…

…it’s that we are all part of something bigger, and we need to contribute to it.

War is not going to help humanity grow.

It’s working together, not fighting apart.

The tale of the thermos

In our culture, well in most cultures, it seems very odd to open up to strangers. It’s difficult to meet them, to talk to them without feeling a jerk. For in most societies the people that tend to come up to you are typically undesirable…

A policeman.
A beggar.
A mentally ill person.
A drunk asshole.
A mass murderer.
A religious zealot.

And so we avoid others. We stare at our shoes. We read our cell phones, we look at the scenery, we stare off into space. We do anything and everything possible to not engage into inter-personal contact with others. We self isolate. We go home to our dark home and there we stare into the flickering blue glow of the monitors until the next day, when we get up and drive alone to our destination.

This is undesirable.

Humans are social creatures. We need society. We need to communicate with each other. We need that inter-personal level of relationship.

The next story, is a cute one. It’s about a boy who wants to strike up a communication with a pretty girl, but there is nothing to “break the ice with”, just his thermos.

This is the central theme behind the first Howard and Kumar movie; Harold and Kumar go to White Castle (plus a heady dose of smoking that marijuana.)

Help others by active participation…

The next video is from the Middle East. And a man decides to help a beggar out. And maybe the point is clear. Rather than pass by, or rather than just give him a coin. Perhaps assisting in a more active way…

…even if it seems trivial…

…is important.

I personally believe that every action that we perform has meaning and substance. Everything that we do, and every thought that we have, all combine towards the reality that we create for ourselves. Maybe the fellow in the video cannot change this beggars life, nor does he want to. He just wants to help him out a little bit more.

The world would be a much nicer place to live in, if everyone stopped thinking about themselves and instead abandons the “for-profit” model embraced by the capitalist oligarchy out of Washington DC and starts going on the local level ….

…helping each other out.

And from Europe we have a similar themed movie. And in this one the same type of action is performed. The point should be clear, you all…

…all over the world…

…most especially in Asia…

…people are waking up to the realization that we all must contribute to the well being of each other, and that the greedy “mine, mine, mine…” oh, you are “bad and evil, we must destroy you“, and all the bans, the nonsense and the hate must end. It is a time that is long over due.

Funny thing about all these videos.

I pulled them off of DouXing which is the Chinese version of Tiktok. You know, the one that Donald Trump banned in the United States for “natural security reasons“.

Perhaps, if you are an American, you will need to destroy your computer now because you watched these dangerous videos with their dangerous ideas. You don’t want the American thought police to come banging in your door and arrest you.

Do you?

It always gets me when the American press says that there can't be peace without "democracy" and "liberalization."
 
Huh ...  try 20 million dead in America's wars since WW II. 
 
And as for "democracy," living in America I would love to see some of it. 
 
Posted by: Mike from Jersey | Jan  5 2021 20:41 utc | 12

Conclusion

I think the main problem are the two different approaches taken by the US or Chinese, which are diametrically different. The Chinese seem to use a "Cumulative" approach, while the US is based on what I call "Winnowing" as a state. Take their respective attitudes towards the poor.

First the Chinese; Cumulative, we are all in this together. If everyone has a "job" be it ever-so lowly, selling food on a street corner for example, then for the Chinese this is a "plus". The person is more or less responsible for his own well being, is not a burden on the State for handouts, and could be (potentially) taxable etc. The object being that ALL Chinese then become positive factors in the society. They are also more motivated because they have a "place" in society. The recent case of Jack Ma and an IPO is not the opposite, but he was trying to get ahead by means that would have led to more unemployment - on the back of the Chinese Government. He was not adding to the cumulative good of the country. Only his own riches. (The Chinese do have billionaires and riches - but are constrained by Corporate credit ratings as explained on a previous - very interesting - thread. Thanks to: psychohistorian | Jan 5 2021 2:08 utc | 162. The MoA Week In Review - OT 2021-001)

The US. The attitude is to beat out the chaff leaving only the "kernel". To "Winnow" the population leaving only the top. ie the poor are sidelined, they become a problem for the Government (needing support, food etc.). A net negative value to US society. (The Rich also get handouts from the Fed. as free money has become an habitude, but that is an another way of winnowing out the chaff - as others do NOT get the trillion dollar handouts) The poor have no "place" in a society that has rejected them and so are less motivated. They must fend for themselves and are expected to obey. If they do not there are always the police to enforce obedience.

"Cumulative = win-win", and "Winnowing = Only the top win".

Posted by: Stonebird | Jan 5 2021 20:26 utc | 11

The world is changing, and it is a good thing. Awareness of it, and awareness of our role in the world is very important. And we do not need to subscribe to any service, pay any fee or provide any user login information to participate. All that matters is to smile, and be more open to the world around you.

Who knows what interesting people you might meet?

Do you want some more of this?

I have more posts along these lines in my Rufus index here…

Hero Stories

Articles & Links

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Inspirational Rufus-related micro-videos out of Thailand

I have gotten some grief by posting things about Thailand on Metallicman. But people don’t really understand. Thailand is a very spiritual and religious land, and they view sex as something natural and pure.

Not as something ugly, evil and perverted like they do in the United States.

Anyways, here are some treasures. These are micro-videos that were written, directed and take place in Thailand. If you want to have a good look at yourself, then watch these videos and note your reactions to them.

All of these videos are very short movies. Whether they are culled from actual movies or compiled on their own accord is actually unknown. But they are rather nice and exceptional in their own regard. They are about people, situations and relationships. All very Buddhist and all very Thai.

If you want to “feel the pulse” of a nation, you look at it’s society. And for Thailand, you look at the people, the families and the relationships there. I hope that these micro videos puts smiles on your faces and an appreciation for other realities and other cultures.

This is the Thailand that I know…

The is the Thailand that I know and that is hidden by all the bad press out in the West…

This is the Thailand that I know…

I really love this next movie…

And some surprises…

And for the father…

Conclusion

My father would call these movies “schmaltz” and tell me that I was wasting my time watching them. It means “excessive sentimentality, especially in music or movies.” He told me that it’s a “dog eat dog” world out there. That I have to “fight to survive” and that I must do it alone. A “Lone Wolf” style because that is what a Man does and that it is the “American Way”. And that no one is going to come to help me. That I must either succeed or fail. And everything else is just a “waste of my time”.

He was wrong.

We are all part of a community. And if everyone contributes within that community, then the entire community benefits. The lone wolf idea is a failed strategy. For it only results in the occasional lone wolf with the rest of the community struggling and destitute.

You can see this in America today. The nation that completely and absolutely embraces the “lone wolf” society is one with a mere handful of ultra-wealthy, and the rest of the nation is unhappy, destitute and not doing well at all.

And nations like China, that embraces the concept of community first is running “rings” around America. When people work together there is a synergy that transcends the individual contribution. Which has a better defensive mechanism, a lone bee, or a swarm of angry pissed-off bees?

Community. You all should be an ACTIVE participant in your respective communities.

Do you want more?

I have more posts in my Rufus Index here…

Hero Stories

Articles & Links

To go to the MAIN Index;

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You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
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You can find out more about the author HERE.
If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
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Please kindly help me out in this effort. There is a lot of effort that goes into this disclosure. I could use all the financial support that anyone could provide. Thank you very much.

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Mankind needs real heroes, and perhaps there is a role in society for plausible hero movies

Again, I am breaking the "text barrier" on post title lengths, but gosh! How else would you possible be able to say this?

But isn’t it true?

I mean that we all like to watch the heroes in the movies. You know, the action adventure where every bullet kills a bad-guy instantly, or the actor (Tom Cruse) that hangs on the side of an airplane at 4000 feet trying to get in, or the man that somehow bests a army of hit men and hit women (John Wick series). But…

But…

Let’s be real. That does not happen in “real life”. Blood is gooey and sticky and getting wet and damp and being shot at in the middle of the night IS NOT FUN. And I can tell you that once you’ve experienced the “real thing” you really don’t want to watch it in any kind of movie form.

Whether it is…

A prison setting.
Getting revenge on someone who did you wrong.
A household with an alcoholic.
Fighting an impossibly corrupt government.
A movie about a divorce that went bad.

If you have experienced these things first hand, you won’t ever want to relive them. No matter how well made or interesting the story line is. It will trigger bad memories and it will not be fun, escapist movie fare for you.

Now, I have ranted on (in the past) about the overwhelming majority of super-hero movies and themes that have dominated Hollywood and American media for the last decade, if not longer. I have complained about them, I have expressed my frustration over them.

My argument goes pretty much like this…

These people are really not something that you can relate to. Young nerd gets bitten by a spider and turns into spider man, Captain America is changed by a military experiment, Batman is a rich eccentric, and the hulk is the result of a science experiment. Iron man is a rich industrial mogul. Then they all get together and fight some evil that is going to destroy the world. Tons of CGI special effects are used and the adolescents are amused!

A ton load of CGI effects flood the screen.

Bullet stop in mid-air. People run in the sky and at the top of tree-tops. Top secret military installations with lots, and lots of shiny black glass and stainless steel finished metal control panels. Monitors everywhere, all showing a whole bunch of impressive graphics and numbers in an incomprehensible matrix array. People move their hands and the air parts, a flick of the wrist and a person is flung into a wall, and teenage experts can hack into government databases in nary a few seconds.

There is a theory in Hollywood these days that audiences have shorter attention spans and must be distracted by nonstop comic book action.

-RodgerEbert

Hey!

So I have to point things out to everyone. Where are the movies that you can relate to?

At least during the 1940’s people could relate to Humphrey Bogart. During the 1960’s people wanted to relate to James Bond. In the 1970’s people could relate to John Wayne. In the 1980’s people could relate to John Cusack. But now…

Who can you relate to?

What can I relate to?

The new remake of Ghostbusters with an all-female cast? How about the remake of Oceans eleven with an all female cast? Or what about “Dave” in “Dave made a maze”?

Can you relate to this beta chuck, directionless, ambition-less, unskilled, quasi masculine?

So…

So, I have to ask.

What about Mr. Joe Average? You know, the guy who is just trying to make payments on his bills, and reads every day about assholes that are tearing up his society. Mr. Joe Average that gets shit from his boss, works a crummy job, and is trying to make his way in a pretty pathetic excuse for a business. Mr. Joe Average who has to put the kids through school, and make a life in a career that at bet might mean work in a “gig economy”. What about people like us?

Sorry, bub.

Not. That. Interesting.

2000 Unbreakable

It’s been slim pickings for many a year. Action figures and heroes dominated the movie industry. If you were a fan of comic books then this time was for you, but if you weren’t… well, I hope that all the CGI offered you enough razzmatazz to keep your interests up.

Then something magical happened.

In the year 2000, a move came out titled “Unbreakable”.

It was also a hero movie. It was about a hero, or a super-hero. You really couldn’t tell. What he actually was.

Was he a normal guy that had ability, or was he a super-hero that was convinced that he was normal?

It didn’t get very many good reviews. Most people complained that it was too dark, too slow, not enough CGI, not action packed and the hero didn’t wear spandex or a cape. The complaints were legion. It was too dark, and way too slow. People complained that there wasn’t enough “action”, and that the dialog was “retarded” and it was far “too moody” of a film.

But…

You know, it was a story about a average man, doing an average job, having an average life, and feeling that something was missing.

Something…

But what?

He was just a normal guy.

He lived a normal life. He did what everyone told him to do. he did it to the best of his ability, but that was it. It’s just that he had this nagging feeling that he was worth more, and had a real value that he could offer…

But what?

The movie was special.

It was about a normal man who had an extraordinary ability.

One, perhaps, that all men have inside of us. We just never push ourselves and let it out…

And because of that, everyone hated it. They absolutely despised the movie. They thought that the movie was lame. The acting was lame. The story line was lame, and that there wasn’t any decent CGI effects.

This movie was dull - The personalities were dull; the lighting was dull; the color was dull; the acting was dull and the story line was BORING. Please explain something to me….the main-woe-is-me character works in security. People in that line of work are finger printed but our hero leaves his finger prints all over the crime scene and yet they have no idea who he is??

-UNBEARABLE

I'll say it right now, Unbreakable is my pick for worst movie ever made. Not necessarily in terms of quality, I'm sure some Sci-Fi channel movie would snatch that prize, but in terms of writing, acting, and most importantly, directing. I counted how many words Bruce Willis said throughout the entire movie, my final total was 6 (that is not technically true as I didn't really count, but I'm confident my estimate is within about 10 of the actual number).

-Terrible Attempt at Emotion and Drama in this Disappointing Movie

And the movie was pretty much forgotten.

Some still enjoyed it, but they hid in the shadows. They kept their thoughts to themselves, and quietly lived their lives.

Strangely, they formed little enclaves on the internet. Restricted access to their blogs to keep the trolls away, and built up a small group of followers to also, not only loved the movie, but believed in the power of individual “specialness”.

Unbreakable is a superhero movie disguised as a psychological drama. The movie was marketed as a thriller over Shyamalan’s objections. But once the film unfolded onscreen, it revealed a unique, original, and unexpected superhero origin story. There are no costumes or gimmicks, and it’s a film that values story and character above expensive set pieces and big effects. By ridding the story of almost all of the superhero visual cues, Shyamalan was able to explore the genre in a meaningful and important way.

This movie also features very few special effects or action scenes. Instead, it focuses on finding something fantastic in our mundane and normal world. David Dunn is just a regular man who has to deal with the fact that he might have superpowers. But it’s David’s struggle to accept this reality that really drives the film. There’s not much in the way of plot, but the character moments were extremely rewarding.

-Superherohype

It doesn't involve special effects and stunts, much of it is puzzling and introspective, and most of the action takes place during conversations. If the earlier film seemed mysteriously low-key until an ending that came like an electric jolt, this one is more fascinating along the way, although the ending is not quite satisfactory. 

In both films, Shyamalan trusts the audience to pay attention, and makes use of Bruce Willis' everyman quality, so we get drawn into the character instead of being distracted by the surface.

-RodgerEbert

But…

I loved this movie.

I loved it because of it’s premise.

You see, this movie is the “real deal”.

It’s about a normal guy.

It’s about a normal guy who had some extraordinary abilities.

Like I have, and YOU have.

And if you don’t realize it, then you have been convinced by others that you are just plain and average. For everyone on this planet has something, some combination of skills and abilities that make them rather special and unique.

Do you “get it”?

Inside of all of us, we have something unique and something special. It might be the way that you fix and repair old ford tractors. It might be the way that you can make a nearly magical bowl of Chili. It might be the way that you can inspire and teach others like in Boy Scouts, or it might be the way that you you apply the art of fly fishing.

You, me, everyone has some very special skills that are way above those of the “average” norm.

And we live life.

We live life…

We live it accepting the idea that we are just alone, and normal, and stuck in a situation that there just isn’t a way out of. That we are trapped. That what ever good we might have has been submerged into the group and we must conform as the group says and hide our abilities, if they are (in any way) obvious to others. We must “lie low”.

If this movie were about nothing else, it would be a full portrait of a man in crisis at work and at home.

-RodgerEbert

And because of that, this movie was considered to be a flop, and a waste of time.

But…

All of us have a “real hero” inside of us. Oh, we don’t look like it on the outside, but trust me, we are there, and when the opportunity arises, we leap up and out and take on the world. Just like a real, honest to goodness, Rufus would.

The world needs real, honest, heroes.

It does.

That is what “Unbreakable” was all about.

And that is the premise of the two sequels to the 2000 movie “Unbreakable”.

The world runs easier when you have found your purpose.

2017 Split

Unbreakable is the first in a trilogy of movies.

Unbreakable – Discovery of your purpose.
Split – Even the confused can have a purpose and a role.
Glass – The world needs heroes, and they should not be forced into “normalcy”.

To fully understand what is going on you must accept the premise that ordinary people are capable of extraordinary things. And thus, the entire trilogy is based upon this concept that ordinary; “normal” people can have some hidden talents that can greatly improve, or hurt, the world that we live in.

Some, like in the first movie with Bruce Willis, can use these powers for good. And some, like in Split, can use these powers for other goals and achievements. And some, like in the movie “Glass” can use these powers to free the entire world.

Of course I knew the rumors from yore that Unbreakable was intended as a trilogy; but as the years went on and nothing happened, I figured the projected had been abandoned. And a good thing too because Unbreakable was still the best superhero movie ever made after The Incredibles, and it didn't need to be ruined by Shyamalan's decline. But Split seemed interesting and meanwhile the trailers for Glass were coming out, and they were so exciting I had to watch them for closure.

So I watched Split and it was as if Shyamalan had made a smooth transition from Unbreakable to it; it's as if he hadn't made anything else in between. Here was the inventive, sensitive, spiritual filmmaker I remember admiring all the way back in 2000. Here was another one of his beautiful, slow dramas about ordinary people discovering extraordinary gifts and learning to cope with them. And it was packaged as a tense thriller about a kidnapped girl trying to escape from a serial killer with multiple personalities who discovers he's more than human, like David Dunn. It was also an emotional story about finding the courage to face up to our inner demons. Thinking about it now, if I didn't cry at Split's beautiful ending, it's probably because I was subconsciously saving them for Glass.

Ah, Glass. A movie so reviled by critics you'll think it was directed by Tommy Wiseau. I don't understand what happened, I don't know what they expected, and what they saw. For my part, I saw the fitful ending to what is now one of the rare perfect movie trilogies.

Glass builds on the previous movies and maintains its tone and pace. By tone I mean it's a low-key superhero movie grounded on realism. Like in hard sci-fi novels, frequently the characters will discuss plausible theories for feats and powers that seem extraordinary. By pace I mean it's mostly a character drama spiced with tense situations and spliced with trappings from horror, sci-fi, mystery, and thriller.

-IMDB

By the time 2019 came around, we have three super-heroes in this triad of movies.

An average guy who is unbreakable.
A man who is split into fractured personalities that combine into one.
A mental genius who is as fragile as glass.

2019 Glass

The Trilogy ended with the 2019 movie titled Glass.

What's sadder, though, is that the critics will frighten viewers away from a movie that's better than 90% of what comes out every Summer. 

In a world where any crappy, soulless, mindless blockbuster makes 1 billion dollars easy, this movie probably won't even make it to 300 million. 

Split didn't and had better reviews. 

And so we'll continue to get bad thrillers, action and superhero movies full of CGI, pointless explosions, and boring, by-the-numbers, sequel-hinting storytelling everyone wants - and cynical shareholders will continue to get richer while creative filmmakers see their opportunities dwindle. 

Funny, even in that Glass was grounded on reality: in the end the faceless villains we never suspected existed, chilling out in elitist restaurants we can't get in, always win. 

Curiously, that's one of the messages in the movie: the gifted are always being held back, overshadowed by the uncreative, those who enforce normalcy. 

But as the ending shows, the creative ones always find a way to outsmart the bureaucrats of normalcy. I hope that with time more people will come to know the truth that the critics have been hiding.

-IMDB

The trio of movies are well worth a watch.

The world needs heroes

The world needs heroes. The world needs people that do things just because it’s right and just. Not because they can make a buck on it. The world needs heroes now, more than ever.

And…

I think…

I believe…

That YOU are one of those heroes.

Now, I have other posts in my Rufus Index that talks about everyday, average person heroics. I find them interesting and fascinating to watch. But also very inspirational. What would you do, if a child was dangling from the 23rd floor? What would you do, if a car with a family drives into a river? What would you do if a five year old runs out into the middle of a highway?

What would you do?

That’s the stuff that heroes are made of.

To sacrifice our lives, not for personal profit or financial gain, but to help others within our society. Because that is what we do as part of a society; as part of a community. As part of being part of something bigger than just our lonely, independent selves.

You are more than what you have been taught to be.

Conclusion

I will conclude this post with the final dialog from the movie "Glass". It is poignant, and worth repeating.

There are unknown forces that don’t want us to realize what we are truly capable of.

They don’t want us to know that the things we suspect are extraordinary about ourselves are real.

I believe that if everyone sees what just a few people become when they wholly embrace their gifts, others will awaken.

Belief in one’s self, is contagious.

We give each other permission to be swayerolds, we will never awaken otherwise.

Whoever these people are, who don’t want us to know the truth, today they lose.

I believe that if everyone sees what just a few people become when they wholly embrace their gifts, others will awaken.

Funny, even in that Glass was grounded on reality: in the end the faceless villains we never suspected existed, chilling out in elitist restaurants we can't get in, always win.

Curiously, that's one of the messages in the movie: the gifted are always being held back, overshadowed by the uncreative...

... those who enforce normalcy.

But as the ending shows, the creative ones always find a way to outsmart the bureaucrats of normalcy. I hope that with time more people will come to know the truth that the critics have been hiding.

-IMDB

Movies are many things.

They can entertain. They can teach. They can illustrate and they can instruct. By embracing the story line and the dialog embedded within a movie, you can be taught interesting ideas and concepts; novel ideas and concepts that are just not possible with books and other media.

It’s fun and entertaining to watch simplistic two-dimensional characters fighting it out with impressive CGI graphics and a great explosive sound track. But, it is something else, entirely something else to be taught some ideas and concepts that may seem foreign, alien or unusual for you to grasp.

You are not a nine year old child.

This trilogy is about you, the individual. You are an adult that has experienced both the highs and the lows of life. Maybe there were good times, and maybe there were bad times. But sometimes, there is a period in your life where the “wind just doesn’t fill your sails”, where you find yourself drifting aimlessly, doing the same things day in and day out, drifting on a calm motionless sea.

To be part of a society, you not not NEED to conform to the behaviors and the ideals of that society. You can be yourself. You can contribute your special gifts and special abilities so that all may profit from them.

But the first step begins with knowledge.

Whoever these people are, who don’t want us to know the truth, today they lose.

Know that it is not only possible, but indeed, it is plausible that you have abilities that are suppressed and hidden from you that you are unaware of. And others, maybe they would scoff and laugh at you…

But who cares. The “typical” is not what you deserve to be any longer.

Let them laugh…

At the woman who can chat with faeries.
At the man who can climb up the outside of a 32 story building.
At the mechanical prodigy that can diagnose and fix any car, and engine at any time, just be listening to it.
At the chef that cooks by scent alone.

Being special means that you won’t get a prize. You won’t get fame. You won’t make money.

But you will do what your purpose is intended to be on this earth.

This is the moment when you are welcomed into the universe.

Do you want more?

I have more articles like this in my MOVIE INDEX here…

MOVIES

Articles & Links

To go to the MAIN Index;

Master Index

You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE .
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Structuring a well-rounded prayer affirmation campaign using world-line transitions

This is a very simple post that will layout a fundamental template for your prayer affirmations. These affirmations are things that you read aloud (to yourself) everyday during a campaign. Prayer campaigns happen over a period of time, and are interrupted by periods of inaction. In other words, you conduct a campaign and then stop completely. Then after a period of rest, you start a new campaign. The affirmations are a list of your desires laid out in a prayer format.

Structuring is a term that I use to describe the organization of your prayer list. You do not need to have it organized, but it will really help you out when the time comes to run a campaign.

The Structuring of a prayer campaign

Most people put together perhaps ten lines of prayers and call it their verbal affirmations. They repeat them once a day in their private moments. Some put them on a laminated sheet in the shower and read them aloud while taking a shower. Some put them in a notebook and read them when they are alone in their home office. While others have them on a list in their wallet and they read it in their car in the company parking lot.

When I conduct a prayer affirmation campaign, my list is long. It is very long and very detailed. I do this because I know that if I am not that detailed, what will manifest might not be what I want. So I tend to be very descriptive and very exacting in my campaign.

I learned the importance of this the hard way.

It's almost like that "contract that you sign with the devil", you will indeed get exactly what you wish for. But you must be very careful in defining your wishes.

So there are really only two recommended techniques (for the newbe and novice) that you can employ. Either have [1] very simple and broad affirmations, or [2] a very complex detailed affirmation campaign.

You do not need to be like me.

In fact, I strongly recommend that people new to intention campaigns start out slowly and simply, and then modify the affirmations over time to find our what works for them. For certainly, what works for one person might not work for others.

I will repeat.

We are all different. So what works for one person might not work for others. Which is why, pretty much, I tell everyone to stick to plain and simple affirmation campaigns and keep things basic. And then, after you have seen how things manifest for you, you can alter and grow your affirmation campaigns into great complexity with more intense results.

My suggested campaign template

Here, I am going to lay out the elements of a very detailed affirmation campaign. One that I use personally (with my personal prayers omitted, of course) and leaving the general affirmations for you all to use and alter as you see fit.

Now, I have mentioned how to conduct these kinds of prayer campaigns in other posts. So none of this should be a real surprise. What might be different here is that the campaign that I am listing here is an “advanced” campaign. It is one that is intentionally modified for “expert” use.

Yes.

This is what I use, and it is what any one who has been doing affirmation campaigns for a couple of years can use. It is not for newbe use.

What is different here, and why I warn NOT to use if you are new to affirmation campaigns, is that it contains certain elements that you must agree to that will completely and totally alter your campaign implementation.

The advanced techniques

This affirmation campaign is full of affirmations that will fundamentally alter and change how your campaign actually runs. This campaign includes “code” that will rewrite the “source code” behind the normal working procedure of an affirmation campaign. And thus it is dangerous for newbe use.

The advanced coding…

[1] Permits the application of world-line slides in your life.
[2] Discards your “initial world-line template” or base-line world-line map for others that will achieve your goals.
[3] Dramatically decreases the time for implementation of your affirmations by permitting and allowance for periods of “phased out discomfort”.
[4] Places guarantees that discomfort will be kept to a minimum.

To use these advanced techniques would result in some rather impressive changes in your life, but it will come at a cost.

[1] Using slides

The cost is that once you have allowed a campaign to slide you out of your birth-world-line map, you will never be able to return back to it. Which means that [1] you will forever be forced to conduct prayer affirmation campaigns until you die, and [2] that you must still obtain experiences and lessons as part of your soul charter. This will result in [3] some level of potential discomfort.

What does this mean?

Well, it might be like the character “Earl” from the show “My name is Earl”, who wins a lottery ticket for millions of dollars, but gets hit by a car and loses the ticket. Because he owes a karmic debt that exceeds the value of the lottery ticket.

Well…

… it might appear to be like that.

[2] Changing the template world-line map

In reality, it’s not really so much about karma as it is that your consciousness NEEDS to obtain experiences during this life.

The at-birth-world-line template was provided to you to use as a map to make those experiences occur. Good or bad, right or wrong, you were corralled or lead to make decisions that would cause events that would manifest due to your thoughts.

So yes, in a way, our world-line template that was allocated to us at pre-birth pretty much set up a corralled, and fated life.

Now, you are purposely leaving that template map, and permitting yourself to slide out on to other world-line maps.

World-lines can be grouped into clusters of similarly, and by other means.

When I refer to a world-line "map", I am referring to cluster of world-lines that evolve (over "time" as viewed by the consciousness) in such a way that the HIGHEST PROBABILITY of events are presented in a three dimensional format. The most probable world-lines are shown in a two dimensional plane, and the relative "difficulty" or "discomfort" to the person is presented in the third dimensional axis.

If you do not use this kind of "map", then you have no structure. Just a big furry and fuzzy ball of all probabilities all superimposed over each other. So use of this map greatly simulates how a person can make decisions, be corralled into certain actions, and learn from experiences and events.

If you want to get off this "fated" or "corralled" map that you were assigned with at birth, then you need to slide off of it. You would slide onto another map.

These other maps might be radically different, or might not. They might be violently disturbing, or quietly comforting. They might be anything. And that is the point. You elect to leave the experience-kindergarten and step into the elementary school hallway. It’s a big step.

Normal thoughts, and a normal simple affirmation campaign works within a pre-birth template map. There is a fixed number of world-lines that you must pass through (on the x-y axis) to obtain your goal.

To speed things up, or achieve other advantages, you need to slide off that map in a z-prime axis onto another map. This other map would have other issues and an entire set of highest probability pathways.

[3] Quick(er) response to your campaign

In this “heavyweight” affirmation campaign template, you would agree to sacrifice comfort and convenience for achieving your goals.

So, for example, if your normal campaign would normally take six years to manifest some long-term goal, this technique would reduce it to a third of the time. Say two years.

Also, as a side effect of this methodology, you will discover that the “pause” between campaigns will be abbreviated as well. Rather than taking a three month long pause between campaigns you might have the strong feeling that you could start a new subsequent campaign shortly afterwards, say in two months instead of three.

[4] Fail safes

Of course, this campaign would include fail-safes or else it would be very, very dangerous.

The idea behind this is that the world-line map that your experiences would lie upon in this incarnation would be within a set of boundary limits. You would have a high probability of experiencing “A”, and “B”, and while you could us your free will to avoid experiencing those things, the probability of you doing so would be very small.

People ask what is fate? 

A child drops an ice cream cone on a hot pavement in the Summer and runs away crying.

You watch that event.

The highest probability would be that you watch, and then continue on your way as if nothing happened. This would be your fated pre-birth template, and you would be proceeding on the x-y axis. This is the most common and highest probability of behavior.

But there are actually a near infinite things that you can do. Such as...

[1] Buy the strange kid a new ice cream cone.
[2] Go after the kid and taunt her / him making fun of them.
[3] Pick up the cone and throw it in the trash.
[4] Pick up the cone and eat it.
[5] Pick up the cone and throw it at a passing car.

The most common and highest probability reactions and events are on the world-line map.

For instance, you would accept a job at “ACME Widgets”, not knowing that in three years they would lay you off. This would be a scenario that you would pretty much be fated to experience.

Now, it is true that you do not have to accept the job at “ACME Widgets”, but the situation on this world-line template would be such that not taking it might mean going without food for a while, or other uncomfortable things.

So in other words, the world-line template map is a fated life that you as soul selects for your consciousness to experience.

But, by accepting and allowing to slide off this birth-assigned template map, you can use your thoughts to navigate to new and different world-lines off that template.

On this new world-line template, you have a set of new opportunities and new events that were NOT present on the old pre-birth world-line template.

So, while the option for “ACME Widgets” might still be open to you, so will an opportunity at “Headbook Software”.

Now taking that opportunity would give you much better salary, and a host of other benefits. More so than “ACME Widgets”, but also would provide a different mapped “terrain” that you would need to navigate.

Instead of just worrying about a pay check at “ACME Widgets”, you now have to contend with a host of other issues that was not in your pre-birth charter. You would experience far more, and do far more, and live a much more active life… but it would be at a level of compression. In other words, more experiences, and thus a greater risk of discomfort.

To mitigate and control this additional and new discomfort, you would need to add text to your affirmations to control and mange it. Thus this technique…

Advanced Technique

I call this an advanced technique because you are “taking the training wheels off”.

The idea of training wheels is to teach balance with a “safety” system to catch the child when their balance is off. 

In reality, most kids simply rely on the training wheels and never practice balance at all. 

Some children even find that it is easier to fall with training wheels – particularly while maneuvering around a corner.

-Time to Take Off the Training Wheels? Parents Families.com

So once you implement advanced intention campaigns…

… you are awarded “full spectrum” control…

… with all the benefits and the inherent dangers that come with it.

THIS IS NOT FOR THOSE NEW TO AFFIRMATION CAMPAIGNS.

You need to have been conducting an affirmation campaign for at least a year before you try these techniques. I don’t want to advocate people to dive into the deep end of a pool until they learned how to “doggie paddle” first.

The affirmation campaign template

Here I am going to give you, the reader, elements of my very own personal affirmation campaign. I have omitted my personal information so as not to confuse this template. (And besides, it’s personal, don’t you know.)

General

I am calm, cool, collected and confident.
I , and my family, are all happy, healthy, and relaxed.
I live a calm, stress-free, comfortable life.
I feel calm and halcyon most of the time.
I have no worries, concerns, or stress. [1]
I am the water that flows under the earth in strength and power. [2]
I am navigating my reality towards my goals. [3]
In general, my reality is one that is a controlled improvement over what I already have. [4]
I am happy, healthy, and successful.
I fill my body with good delicious and healthy food and drink.
I have money, savings, and investments. [5]
Negative people are always repelled away from me in such a way that they do not affect my reality.
These affirmations manifest in the near future, and maintain existence for the remainder of my life.
All of these events as specified manifest as quickly as possible. [6]

Notes;

This is the "general" category at the top of my affirmation list. It contains phrases and general assumptions that will occur not matter what else manifests.

[1] The first five items refer to my level of stress and comfort. Now, if you do not want a relaxed and comfortable life, you can omit these items. I, myself, have lived in stressful situations. I do not want any part of them to manifest. So I make sure that no matter what, my life is calm, and good.

[2] My personality is one of adaptation. Some people have fixed personalities. You can alter this to read something like "I am a rock and stable in all things", or perhaps if you are of a flighty and wispy countenance "I move like the air and master my environment". It's all up to you. This phrase defines your general placement within the mapped terrain.

[3] You must vocalize what you are doing.

[4] You want to improve in what you have. You want to keep the good things going on in your life and add more good things to them. You do not want to throw away everything and start from scratch, do you? If you do, you can omit this phrase.

[5] If you do not include money in your affirmations, no matter how well intentioned, you could easily end up being poor and destitute; happy, but poor and destitute.

[6] These last two statement phrases are critical. By specifying a time limit, you allow the navigation to take you off the pre-birth intention canvas. You drop off the map and are permitted to slide to what ever new map will provide you quicker and more immediate results.

Now the world around us is seemingly going crazy. Pockets of discomfort, strife and alarm are all around us. We don’t want any of that to impact our life. We do not want any part of that in our life and we most certainly do not want to obtain experiences that are associated with strife.

However, if you slide off the pre-birth template you can end up (easily) within a world-line that is full of stress and discomfort. You do not want that. Not in the least. So in order to prevent that, you will need to place some affirmations in regards to safety and security.

Like this…

Safety

My family is safe and secure and protected from all efforts to attack it. [1]
I am safe and protected where I live, and my life is stable and isolated from any attacks of any type.
No matter what the news says, none of the disturbing things actually happens to me or my family. [2]
I and my family are safe and secure. Any battles, wars, conflicts or social upheavals occur far away from us.
My family and I are safe and isolated away from conflict, strife, and danger. We are always safe.
The people around me love me, protects me, nurtures me, and supports me. [3]

Notes;

If the world was stable this section in your affirmation campaign might not be necessary. But the world is not stable. Right now there are three carrier battle assault groups off the coast of China 15 miles from where I live. Maybe Donald Trump thinks that it makes great news headlines. For me, well it is very stressful and ugly.

[1] This might be the only phrase you might need.

[2] If the "news" is promoting something dangerous, this phrase will act like a shield and cause the event (or something similar) to "bounce off" and hit some other target. You know, like the fire on the USS Bonhomme Richard, or the massive explosion known as the Beirut explosion. This phrase will deflect events away from your area.

This is a complicated matter and I could devote an entire post on it alone. When huge groups of people start thinking things, they create a buildup of quanta. That buildup must be released. If it is being directed at something, and you use an affirmation to conduct a world-line switch, the build-up still needs to be released. And thus you will see other examples of where the "bullets ricocheted to".

[3] You need to tie yourself to a friendly and supportive community.

Now, let’s get into the content…

Content

Here is where you would put your “regular” intentions. This is where the vast bulk of your intentions would go. And it might look something like this…

The affirmations are for example only. 

They are not my personal affirmations. My very own intentions are a little shy on objects and things, and rather dense when it comes to personal relationships, adventure, and lifestyle. But here are some illustrative examples.

I have a lawn with “Centipede grass”.
My front door is painted a high gloss PANTONE Bright Red C, with a nice real shiny brass door knocker.
I own a John Deer Cub Cadet Ultima ZT1 50-in. 23-hp Kawasaki Zero Turn lawn mower.
I own a beautiful white Nissan Titan XD Pro 4X.

You can add anything here that you want. In this example, I have placed things. But you can describe relationships, or situations, or events.

Events like…

I am able to travel the world in a sailboat.
I am part of a local group of businessmen and attending gatherings.
I have box seats at the local stadium.

Relationships like…

I am dating a girl that has the personality of Lauren Cohan (The Walking Dead actress).
I am dating a girl that has the body of Kelly Brook (English model, actress and television presenter best known for her roles in the 2010 horror comedy remake Piranha 3D).
My father and I have resolved our differences and spend time together on the weekends.

Situations like…

I have part ownership in a golf club.
My house is filled with happy dogs and relaxed cats.
I live next to the mountains and have a fresh water spring in the back.

In short, you can put anything here that is is desire. You can be vague or specific. Just note that the more specific you are, the longer it will take to manifest. So only add specificity when actually necessary. Otherwise, it’s wisest to keep things flexible.

Non Physical Entities & Forces

Our world, for the most part, is populated with the things that we see and experience around us. Therefore, since that is all that we know, that is all that we wish to alter. But the truth is that there are a host of other things, and other elements of our reality that exists around us. This includes things and entities.

By placement of specific affirmations you can protect yourself from malevolent entities (if they exist) or enlist the help of other non-physical entities, were it your prerogative.

I ask for help to achieve my intention targets; and I do get help from all the non-physical beings that can assist me.
I also get help from any physical beings that can assist making my dreams and wishes come true and manifest.
Other entities, not limited to but including, XXX, YYY, ZZZ, guardian angels, friendly sprites, and other entities are permitted to assist me obtaining my goals as defined here. [1]
In no way can these other entities hurt, harm, or mess up my life and intentions. They may only help, and are welcome to help gladly.
I know how to embrace opportunities as they manifest around me, and implement those necessary changes and actions promptly. [2]

Notes;

[1] You might not believe that non-physical intelligence's and animals exist. That's fine. But it wouldn't hurt to have this line in your affirmations, now would it?

[2] This affirmation can go anywhere, but the placement herein associates it with a knowledge associated with specific actions associated with non-physical, or physical entities.

Control of emotions and thoughts

We are constantly under manipulation. Where it is the embedded code within the websites and the APPs that we use, to the movies we watch and the news that we subscribe to. Everything is trying to twist and control our emotions. Yet, in order for our affirmations to actually work, these influences must be zeroed out.

Now there are two ways to zero out these influences. Firstly [1], you can get rid of those influences directly. You can stop using the media, using the computer and using the cell-phones. Or [2] you can add affirmations that control your reactions to those influences.

This section follows route #2. You have affirmations that control the way that the external influences influence your behaviors and action.

I am able to control my emotions and thoughts.
I prevent any angry, dangerous, or terrible thoughts from occurring. [1]
I prevent the manifestation of any reality that might result from bad, negative or dangerous thoughts. [2]
I avoid getting into arguments on the internet.
Everything surrounding me is positive and good.

Notes;

[1] The first two affirmations are seemingly redundant. But, they are not.  One specifies that I am in control of what I think, not outside influences. The other prevents the manifestation and generation of bad or negative thoughts.

[2] Prevents the generation of "bad" reality generation resulting from my thoughts.

MWI Routing

This section adds a strong degree of control on how you add, alter, modify or implement your intention campaign. I am a strong believer that each one of us runs our very own unique campaign, and thus what works for one person, might not work for a different person. So in order to control that aspect of variance, you need to specify how the affirmation campaign works within your MWI reality.

These affirmations serve that purpose…

I understand how this universe works, and how to alter, improve and change my reality. [1]
I use this knowledge to generate a perfect life for myself and for my family.
As such, I am the Captain of my Consciousness. [2]
I move in and out of the world-line realities as necessary to achieve my thought-destination(s).
I do achieve my ultimate goals and I do so efficiently, and quickly while avoiding bad or undesirable world-lines. [3]
I am alert on what to say and do in order to achieve my desires.
I know what affirmations to make to manifest the life that I wish to participate within.
I know, positively, when to stop, change, alter or revise my affirmations in accordance with my needs and desires. [4]
I am aware of opportunities as they arise, and I know exactly what actions to take to maximize my desired intentions.
I am aware of the world-line routing as it occurs and do not panic or worry about how things will manifest. [5]
I recognize that world-line realities that I inhabit might be calm and relaxed, but that substantial positive and proactive events are unfolding for my benefit that might be hidden from me.

Notes;

[1] This phrase helps you rapidly learn what affirmations to use, and which ones not to use. You also better understand why and how they work. I think that this sentence along helps tie the affirmation campaign into a mechanism for soul experience growth.

[2] These two commands place your verbal affirmation campaign firmly into the realm of "navigation console". By using these phrases you convert an intention campaign from a "lifestyle enhancement method", to a "world-line navigation console".

[3]  These two lines explicitly state what the purpose of the affirmation campaign is, and how it works.

[4]  These four affirmations enable you to have insight on how to improve your affirmations, and add or subtract from them. While this is seemingly a more or less natural consequence of performing a campaign, this little statement guarantees that whatever alterations you make will be in accordance with your direct wishes, and not what was laid out in the pre-birth reality template map.

[5] These two affirmations cover cognizant awareness of the physical reality and what to do to alter, reroute or modify your intention campaign.

Intention Canvas

I urge everyone to have “dream board” or “intention canvas”. This contains images and pictures used to complement your affirmation campaign.

As opposed to "sharpening" your intention focus, it make it more "fuzzy". (Which is counter intuitive. Not what you would think, eh?)

In other words, instead of a small, hard, absolute point on the world-line terrain map, it becomes a bigger, fuzzier, and softer ball. What this does is provide a larger group of avenues or paths for you to reach to your goal.

The key words or text herein is to “complement”, and not to “replace” your affirmation campaign.

As I have discussed previously, the canvas can be a “dream board”, a rotating image display on your computer, or a folder containing a stack of pictures. It can also include a computer folder in your PC that contains images that you can use (and one that you don’t visit often either.)

In all cases you MUST tie this “intention canvas” to your affirmation campaign. These affirmation commands do just that. In my case, I have a folder that contains picture collages that represent my intended desires. And that is what I will suggest in these examples…

I utilize the images in my “XXXXX” folder (and all subfolders) to help make the manifestation of my lifestyle manifest.
I also utilize the photos in my PC (found in the YYYYYY directory) and used as my rotating background display to help cultivate the reality that my world line is.
The following commands specify exactly how the images will manifest and what they represent within my life…

In which case, then you go into great detail what general terms that each image represents. Such as these examples…

Males shown in photos

In all cases, the dominant male figure portrayed in the image(s) represent myself. [1]
Images that portray mafia figures, or “bad people” portray myself in similar roles of power. They do NOT, however, manifest these kinds of people against me. [2]
Images that portray powerful people represent my role as it manifests.
In images showing actors, it is the character, personality and role that they play that manifests in my life, not that of the actual actor. [3]

Notes;

[1] Do not assume that just because a male figure is in a photo residing inside your intention canvas, that it automatically represents you. If you want that to happen, then you will need to either use this affirmation, or photoshop your image into that photo.

[2] So, you've got a picture of Tony Soprano enjoying some wine, with his underlings nearby and a girl on each arm. Do not assume that you would intend this role to materialize. Instead, the local mafia don in your neighborhood might end up getting the intention instead of yourself. 

[3]  Likewise, you want the role that the actor plays. Not the life of the actor him or herself. If you want the actors person life, then you need to specify it. You need to specify exactly what elements the images represent or else you might have the wrong things manifest. You might (for example) want the life of Captain Jack Sparrow, and have a photo of a carefree run-infused pirate. While in reality you might end up with Johnny Depp's life and an embroiled divorce. Yikes!

Objects shown in photos

In images related to gold, money, currency and wealth, the intention is broadly associated with large sums of money, wealth and success that I possess.
In images relating to objects, they represent the things that I own or possess as property.

Women shown in photos

In images that have females, they represent the situation that I am participating in.
In images that only contain females, the appearance and body shapes, and the situation of the female, their body and actions are what manifests per my intention direction.
In images showing females, with a dominant physical attribute (as determined by myself), that attribute manifests within my reality.

Notes;

Since I am a male, I do not want to confuse any images with women and children. I want to specify that they are different and perform roles that are situational.

Blocking and Protections

We live inside a reality that has both physical and non-physical components. Thoughts alter and change our reality. Both our thoughts, and the thoughts of those around us. Good people can give us good wishes and pleasant thoughts. However, most of the world today is not good, and thus bad people can thrust bad wishes upon us.

We don’t want to suffer through hexes, malevolent intentions or bad events sent in motion by individuals who have a grudge against us. So we must utilize protections. Here are the protection affirmations that I use…

I have awareness on how to avoid the manifestation of problems. I follow that advise immediately without question automatically.
I purposely avoid negative, dangerous, bad, or problematic reality world-lines to achieve my goals
I have broken apart any barriers to controlling my reality. These are barriers that are either self-created, or those created by others.
I define my reality, and undo any spells, magick or alterations imposed upon me, or the reality around me by anyone or anything.
I block and shut out all negative, de-constructive, and dangerous thoughts from manifesting and altering my intentions listed herein.

Notes;

Do not assume that everyone thinks like you. There are many "closet" occultists, and "home-grown" priests that will throw some unwanted thoughts and beliefs your way. You must put up protections.

You would be surprised at how many there are. Seriously.

Personal Health

We can have an affirmation campaign that is all great and full of details, but if you ignore you health, it will all be for naught. If there is one thing that we should learn from this coronavirus situation, it is that if you don’t have your healthy, all the riches and “stuff” in the universe become meaningless. You absolutely need to protect your health and general well-being in your affirmation campaign.

Do not neglect this most important aspect of a prayer / affirmation campaign.

I am in top physical shape. I am healthy and happy.
My body operates, functions and behaves like when I was in my late 20’s and into my early 30’s. [1]
My wardrobe is professionally matched, and my body is clean, pleasant and attractive.
My heart is strong and healthy. My internal organs are all in top shape. [2]
Nothing is permitted to cause me harm, damage or physical discomfort.
I know what minerals, vitamins and foods that I must eat to achieve my intention targets. [3]

Notes:

[1] Obviously this applies to folk older than this age. LOL.

[2] Old men can have all kinds of problems and issues, and to prevent and control that, we tend to watch our diets and take vitamins. Exercise is important, and I don't need any affirmations to support what I already do naturally.

[3] Shortly after adding this affirmation line, the number of business luncheons and dinners that I would normally have dropped considerably. My wife started to make a lot of vegetables, and fish. I began to find myself eating this kind of nut and fruit oatmeal just about every morning. Ugh! Yet, after a few months I discovered that my over all body health did actually improve dramatically.

Household

The biggest influence on your life are those in your immediate family. Thus, you need to cherish, and protect them. For without them, you are just a lonely speck floating upon a most turbulent sea.

My family is happy, healthy, and well-taken cared for emotionally, physically, and financially. There isn’t any stress at all.
My family life is very calm, happy and positive. [1]
My family is happy and I have a very calm and happy domestic life at home.
I and my family are healthy, happy, relaxed and doing what we love.

Notes;

[1]  My idea of what constitutes a happy family household might not be what you would. I think a calm and happy household is best for my temperament. I however, know others that love a chaotic household with all sorts of happy noise and activity. You need to customize this affirmation to fit your own personal lifestyle.

Lifestyle

Lifestyle is a “catch-all” that really describes the overall desire that you hope to accomplish from this affirmation campaign. Thus, it is critically important. It is the difference between having a “wealthy” life as opposed to a “rich” life. And if you don’t know what I am talking about, watch the movie “Bronco Billy”.

I love my life, and I love everything about my life.
I love the colors, the air, the weather, the people, the location, everything.
I improve upon what I have, not change it drastically.
The improvements are all what is listed here or better.
The improvements are glorious additions to what I already possess.
I live in a beautiful area, with great colors, fresh air, roomy spaces, and a calm and relaxed neighborhood.
I am very comfortable, safe, secure, happy, relaxed and live a nice fun and carefree life.
Everyone sees me as how I desire to be seen. [1]
I know what actions to take to secure my privacy and personal life. [2]
I have the strength (emotional and physical) to break through any barriers to achieve my goals.

Notes;

[1] I control what people think about me. Not others.

[2] Privacy is a fundamental human need. Yet governments, family members, and society pretty much has obliterated this belief. Which is why that I often go without a cell phone on me, and do things on my own personal schedule and not on the schedules that others use. Now, if you do not secure your privacy, the chances are that you will lose it.

Opportunity

The thing about affirmation campaigns is that they rely on you (the person making the affirmations) on taking advantage of the opportunities that present themselves to you. Thus, it makes no difference if you have an opportunity manifest in front of your eyes, but refuse to take advantage of it. You need to act to manifest that situation.

I am aware of opportunities when they arise, and I am led onto which ones to take and follow up with.
I have physical, spiritual and non-physical entities assisting me in making the opportunities listed herein into personally profitable ventures.
Opportunities come my way and I always profit handsomely from them.
I am aware of the trends going on in my life, behind the scenes, and on tactical, and strategic levels.

Affirmation techniques

Here we specify and “hammer out” the way that these affirmations will operate. You do not need to do this, but by doing so you can control the implementation of the affirmations onto your world-line.

I know of, and use, the specialized techniques to improve the actionablity of my verbal affirmations listed herein.
I know what things to say in my affirmations to make my reality happen safely and quickly.
I am dismissive of those that are not worthy of my time, or effort.

Speed of implementation

By specifying the speed of implementation, you create a slide event. This moves your world-line adventures, and your life off the pre-determined template and direct and straight into your own hands.

All these affirmations occur as quickly as is comfortably and as safely as possible. At no time is my family, health or safety at risk.
These changes are being implemented now, and will manifest soon. Really, really soon.
The normal rules of affirmation manifestation has now been advanced to this direct and immediate application without hesitation.
All these affirmations happen quickly, provided that dangers are avoided and I (and my family) are protected.

Death

Here, it seems really morbid, but a few moments a day to make sure that your transition out of the physical reality would be calm and complete is really a good thing. Don’t you think?

Death will occur late in my life.
I will outlive my father, yet be healthy and functional up until death.
When the time comes for my death, it will be smooth and easy.
Those left behind will be well taken cared for.

Important Navigation Notes

Here we get involved in the aspects that make this affirmation campaign “advanced”. It lays out the use of slide and how they will manifest and under what conditions. You will notice that they permit “minor imperfections” to occur as long as my baseline affirmations manifest.

This affirmation campaign is set up to engage the obtainment of objectives early on, with whatever minor imperfections that they might have.
I use world-line slides to accelerate the implementation of these affirmations.
The slides only come into use whenever they can [1] reduce the time to obtain the affirmation realization within my physical reality, and [2] they do not cause me any discomfort or trouble.
As time moves on, the imperfections drop away, and the true and idealized intention manifests.
This rule enables a quick near-immediate manifestation of my desires herein without having to wait for a long time to obtain the “perfect” intention reality.

Conclusion

This post describes an “advanced” affirmation campaign. It uses slides to accelerate the manifestation of the campaign objectives. As such, it is highly detailed and involves long lines of affirmation code.

It is only for advanced users to use.

As an example, I used elements of my very own affirmation campaign and I urge the reader to use and discard what they wish to make a similar campaign for themselves.

Do you want more?

I have more posts in my affirmation campaign index here…

Intention Campaigns

Articles & Links

To go to the MAIN Index;

Master Index

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How to have a baby in China and give it Chinese citizenship when you are a foreigner.

This was so interesting for me to see, because I've experienced the same thing - people I know who have lived & worked there (China)  have such a different view from those who haven't. 

And if you talk positively about China in the US, you are viewed with skepticism at best, at worst - viewed as a traitor. Judged by people who have never been to China!

-Greg Reed

How to have a baby in China. This article discusses what it is like for a foreigner to have a baby inside of China and give it Chinese citizenship. If you do not want to give it Chinese citizenship then there are few other options available for you. The baby would be born within China and be a “stateless person”. It would be your responsibility to apply for citizenship at the nearest embassy or consulate.

Why not automatically make it American?

I cannot tell you, my dear reader, how many times people have asked me this. They ask “Why didn’t you give your Child American citizenship?” As if, suddenly the American citizenship would grant my child an automatic and wonderful life…

American family — A sizable population of Americans are not working, and are instead being paid existence money. I want my children to be productive and make the world a better place as opposed to subsisting.

Hey! Have you been watching the United States lately?

But I will describe it in the simplist way possible.

Imagine three children;

Tom. Chinese born. Chinese citizen. Raised in China.
Dick. Chinese born. American citizen. Raised in China.
Harry. Chinese born. American citizen. Raised in America.

If you look at the three children, you can pretty much say that “Tom” represents most Chinese people. They are born in China of Chinese parents, and they attend Chinese schools, and have excellent opportunities within China.

Dick is the kind of child that a number of expats are faced with. As an expat, they come to China as part of a two or three year long duration package as part of a career move. They want their children to be raised where ever they live, but they want them to be American citizens to “enjoy” the rights and privileges of “being an American”.

Harry represents a scenario that many rich Chinese face. They want to move to America and raise their children as American citizens. So while the child might be born inside of China, they are raised in America as an American.

The Trade offs…

Well, most people reading this are neither native Chinese living in China (the “Tom” situation), nor a rich and wealthy Chinese who emigrated to China. (The “Harry” situation.) They are in the “Dick” situation.

And their question is simple.

Should the baby apply for Chinese citizenship or American (or other country) citizenship?

Well, to make the decision process easier, I have broken it down. Keep in mind that it is a far greater amount of work to make your baby a Chinese citizen than to make it an American citizen.

[1] Baby as a Chinese citizen…

You must follow the application procedures and be approved. The government will monitor the healthy of the baby and you must take tests and attend classes during the entire pregnancy.

Once the baby is born, it can attend Chinese schools, and be treated as a Chinese citizen even if one of it’s parents is non-Chinese. It gets social insurance, and placement in schools and the educational process.

When it grows up, it will have a “Family Register”, with a history, and be able to set up businesses within China. It will be subject to Chinese income tax which (for around 80% of citizens) is under 3% of the yearly income taken directly from the paycheck with no annual reporting requirements.

[2] Baby as a American citizen…

The baby can be birthed anywhere and no tests or procedures are required. However, it will not be granted a birth certificate. So the parents must work with the embassy before the birth to apply for citizenship. If you give birth, and do not have a birth certificate, you have until the baby is five years old before the difficulty in application process goes exponential.

Once the baby is approved and is an American (or other national), it can live pretty much like it’s expat parents, except…

It cannot go to most schools. Only Chinese students can go to the local school. It must go to an “approved” school that is permitted to take foreign students.

Can Foreigners Go to Primary or Secondary School in China?

While most international schools will only accept Chinese students who hold a foreign passport, Chinese public schools are required by law to accept children of legal foreign residents.

Admissions requirements vary but most schools require an admissions application, health records, passport, visa information, and previous school records. Some, like nurseries and kindergartens, require a birth certificate. Others require recommendation letters, assessments, on-campus interviews, entrance exams, and language requirements.

Students who cannot speak Mandarin are usually held back a few grades and usually start in first grade until their language skills improve. All classes except English are taught entirely in Chinese. Going to a local school in China has become a popular choice for expat families who live in China but can’t afford the high price of international schools.

The admissions materials at local schools are typically in Chinese and there’s little support for families and students who do not speak Chinese. Schools in Beijing that accept foreign students include Fangcaodi Primary School (芳草地小学) and The High School Affiliated to Renmin University of China Beijing Ritan High School (人大附中).

There are over 70 schools approved by China’s Ministry of Education to provide foreign instruction. Unlike local children, foreigners must pay a yearly tuition which varies but starts at about 28,000RMB.

-What Is School in China Like

So your child has three options.

[1] If you live in a big city like Shanghai, Beijing, or Shenzhen, there is the possibility that an “approved” school will take in your child. Be prepared to pay a fee, and your child will probably need to go down a few grades until their Chinese language skills are improved.

[2] You child can be home schooled.

[3] Your child can attend “International Schools”. In China, the international schools are among the most expensive in the world with costs approaching $10,000 / month or 70,000 rmb/month.

Then once the baby gets older, it must obey American tax law where ever it lives. Which means that if the child decides to stay in China, it must pay both American taxes to the IRS as well as Chinese taxes. It will be double taxed for the rest of it’s life. This handicap MUST be taken into consideration in any calculus regarding the child’s future.

Things have mitigated somewhat for expats, but Americans do need to be careful and file yearly reports to the government. These requirements of reporting income, telling the American government what you do and why, and asking permission on how you handle financial affairs, whether it results in tax liabilities or not, are repugnant to a free person. It is up to you to decide if you want to saddle your child with this reporting nightmare.

Applying for Citizenship.

Most people assume that China is like their nation. That it has birth-right citizenship. You know, like America has. And that all you need to do is have sex, go to a hospital or even to a parking-lot, and have some witnesses that sign a birth certificate, and zoom! Your baby is a citizen.

Birthright citizenship is the legal principle that any person born on U.S. soil automatically becomes a citizen of the United States. 

Birthright citizenship was established in 1868 by the Fourteenth Amendment to the United States Constitution and confirmed by the US Supreme Court in the 1898 case of United States v. Wong Kim Ark.

-Birthright Citizenship in the United States

Nope. China doesn’t have this. Not in the least. And that is a good thing. It helps mitigate if not eliminate entirely many of the ills that America is facing with unrestricted immigration, “birthright immigration” and a “welfare state”.

If you want your baby to become a citizen of China, you must apply.

In short, you need to go down to the local government office, and fill out the application form; “Application for a baby to become a Chinese citizen while still in the womb.” (Or something like that.)

The rules are very strict. You either meet them or you do not. There is no “wiggle room” for borderline cases.

To become a citizen in China, you need to have a [1] male father, a [2] female mother, and [3] one of the parents must be of Chinese ancestry. Further, you need to apply with these criteria, to the local government office, and be approved by them.

If they approve, then they will issue you with two books. (And they are books.) One is white and one is pink. You will use these books to record and monitor the baby health while in the womb.

Monitoring the prenatal growth of the fetus.

The local government watches and maintains records of the baby’s growth in the womb. They provide mandatory training sessions for the mother, and pay for the tests to make sure that the baby will not have any defects or any sort of retardation.

If the baby has a physical, or mental defect, you will have a problem.

In short, you will not be permitted to have the baby and obtain citizenship for it.

Yes. You can still have the baby if your really want to. It’s just that it will not be a Chinese baby.

However, you will [1] need to pay for all the medical care and support by yourself. It will be a great financial burden, and [2] it will not be a citizen. Which means additional headaches.

In short, the odds that a parent would want to continue and give birth to the baby once it was found to have a defect at some level, like an inherited illness, a genetic defect that might cause a mental or psychological disorder, or a physical disorder is very… very small.

During the entire nine months of pregnancy a series of tests must occur that includes bloodwork and exams of the mother, as well as scans of the baby in the womb.

In order to prevent termination of the embryo because it might not be of the preferred gender (typically male in remote rural areas, like the Xinjiang Muslim areas), strict rules are in place that keeps the baby gender unknown until the moment of birth. This goes through every test. Including the DNA test.

In the DNA test, a needle is inserted into the womb and extracts a DNA sample of the baby. It then goes to a lab and is studies for all sort of inherited or rare illnesses or unusually allergies that might be present in abnormal DNA. The DNA that determines whether it is a boy or a girl is intentionally blacked out so the parent is unable to see what sex the baby would be.

Birthing Hospital

While any hospital can give birth to a baby, the local government would prefer you to use a “birthing hospital”. This hospital deals in one thing… anything about giving birth from the moment of conception to post birth problems.

These are busy places.

They usually are part of a big, wide campus. And on that campus are various buildings for pre-birth training, and what to expect for young mothers. As well as traditional Chinese medicine services. (Which actually DO WORK.)

Story time…

When we were trying to get pregnant (my wife that is), we were having a difficult time at it. We used artificial insemination, and yet, we had four (x4) miscarriages. Yikes! It’s was not only totally and completely expensive but a roller-coaster ride of emotion. After the fourth miscarriage, we went to the head doctor who said that we were doing everything right, but it wasn’t working. So she had us go to the Chinese traditional doctor section.

Traditional Chinese Medicine

So we went to the “Traditional Chinese Medicine” wing of the sprawling hospital complex. We made an appointment with the doctor there.

The doctor sat her down. Looked at her hands. Looked at her mouth. Looked at her feet. Then studied her spine. After examining her, the doctor said “well, of course!” She explained. “Your womb is cold!” She elaborated. “You can never give birth if your womb is cold and not receptive. You need to make it warm”.

Now the terms “warm” and “cold” are not direct translations for the Chinese terms. For there are no English terms for what they were describing. But it was close enough.

So she had to make these terrible concoctions of drinks that she quaffed down. She was put on a strict diet of what she could eat and drink. She also had to perform a kind of smoke therapy with this “smoke box” that she put on her belly and burned these kinds of strange grasses and plants on top of it with.

After four months of this, the doctor looked at her tongue and hands, then examined her feet and said “ok, you are ready and ripe to have a baby”.

Then, we went and had another artificial insemination (her egg and my little guys) and it took! So yeah, nine months later we had a beautiful Chinese baby girl.

Nay-Sayers say that this was just coincidence. But nope. It’s not. This and other events have 100% convinced me of the benefits of Traditional Chinese medicine.

The paperwork was automatic. Not only did she get a birth certificate, but she was placed in the “Family Register”. This is a book that lists all the members of a given household.

Inoculations

The government has an entire operation and system for monitoring the growth and well-being of young children. That includes monitoring of the child’s growth and weight. A review of the condition of the mother and the family environment. As well as all inoculations.

This is tied together with the local police.

If you do not attend the training course, or the doctor visits, the police will call you up and ask you if everything is going ok. I am not taking about missing a few scheduled appointments. I am referring to missing one singular appointment.

The Chinese view the early development of children to be the future of society; the bedrock of the Chinese nation and culture, as well as important to the future health of the economy of the world.

Certain regions have this police interaction all automated, and in Wenzhou there is an APP that is a straight direct line to the local police.

Yes. The local police knows who your baby is and everything about your child. If you child is lost or disoriented, it can go into any police station and they will be able to find out who it is and where it lives. If a new child appears in any police districts, it is noticed. And thus added to the central database. Thus stolen or lost childen are quickly found and accounted for.

Buying a house so the child can attend school.

Free government schools do not exist in China.

The schools are all associated with the local communities. For your child to attend a local school in the neighborhood, you must own a house. Housing complexes have kindergarden, primary and middle schools attached.

Chinese children all get a primary and middle school public education. Each class averages 35 students. After middle school, parents must pay for public high school.

-What Is School in China Like

Now, unlike the USA, there are limits in house ownership. While it depends on the region, I can tell you that the limits for house ownership in Zhuhai, China are as follows…

Three house limit for the Father to own.
Three house limit for the Mother to own.
If the parent is a foreigner, then it is a two house limit.
The child is permitted to own no more than three houses.

Thus, a family of three (father, mother and baby) can own at most nine homes in Zhuhai, China.

Some notes.

Houses in China typically are part of enormous housing developments with schools and businesses set up in clusters.

Houses tend to be smaller than American houses.

Houses tend to be much more expensive than American houses.

In China property is not taxed. The Chinese believe that real freedom is the ability to own property, and real ownership of this means that it is free of taxiation and regulation.

Once you obtain a house, then your child can potentially attend the local school there. There is a criteria that is used for placement within the school, and it all revolves around your own personal family stability and social history.

Housing complex in Zhongshan China. The three schools are circled in red, and the central administration area for the local police, and government is circled in blue.

When I mention this to Americans the “knee jerk” reaction is to think that that most Chinese students then don’t attend school. Their reasoning is that since most Americans are either renters or paying a mortage, that this must be true in the rest of the world as well. But actually the exact opposite is true. Most Chinese people OWN their houses. Renting is what is typically done by unmarried couples, or people who have to work away from their homes.

Obtaining the certificate of motherhood.

In order to assure that your child is able to get a seat within a local school, you will need to meet certain criteria based on your roles, your work, your career, and your contribution to society. This is the much maligned “social credit scoring” that you hear so much about in the American media.

But it’s not really a bad thing. Just don’t be rude, a criminal, or disruptive. You can increase your social rating through community efforts, being helpful, and other means.

If you are a troublemaker with a history of scamming people, or polluting, or just being rude, your score will be lower than someone who isn’t.

If you participate in the riots in Hong Kong, for example, your social rating is now zero… forever.
If you pushed someone on the bus or had some kind of altercation, or just threw trash on the road and was filmed by a road cam in the process, you will have a reduction in your social rating.

Now, in order to guarantee high placement of your child in a local school you will need to take a class in being a mother. You will get a certificate, and that grade and the presence of the certificate will guarantee placement in the best classes of students in the best schools.

This class is a very comprehensive and difficult class that involves books, movies, first-hand class instruction and homework. You must get over a 90% to pass the class and obtain the certificate. My wife took the class, and it consists of two tests. The first being 1000 questions and the second being 300 questions.

Conclusion

The decision to have a child in China is a big one, but need not be frightening. China is a fair and just place that is well organized, if very large and populated. The key to your child’s health and well being lies with you. And the very first decision you should make is what citizenship should your child have.

In this case, do you want Chinese or American citizenship?

American citizens get to have all sort of free stuff, like free healthcare, free food, and free housing. While in China, the citizens must work or die.

As an American citizen, I chose Chinese citizenship for my children. I see China in 2040 bigger, stronger, happier and better in just about every way compared to a 2040 America. But that is just me. Many others disagree with me, and believe the opposite; that America is the best, always was and always will be.

Well…

Only time will tell.

Best Regards.

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The Rolling Stones (full text) by Robert Heinlein

This solid book of space travel is a great example of why Robert Heinlein is still a major name in Science Fiction. The Rolling Stones is primarily a Space Travel Science Fiction novel, as the story is centered on the Stone family’s trip through the solar system. It is a humorous science fiction story about a family traveling through space in a second-hand spaceship.

The Rolling Stones is one of Heinlein’s most lighthearted novels. It was written primarily for young adults, but it’s a good read at any age. The book is about a middle class family, living on the moon as the story begins, in a time when middle class families can buy spaceships about as easily as you or I could buy a large recreational vehicle or a small yacht.

The Rolling Stones

1 – THE UNHEAVENLY TWINS

The two brothers stood looking the old wreck over. “Junk,” decided Castor.

“Not junk,” objected Pollux. “A jalopy – granted. A heap any way you look at it A clunker possibly. But not junk.” “You’re an optimist, Junior.” Both boys were fifteen; Castor was twenty minutes older than his brother.

“I’m a believer, Grandpa – and you had better be, too. Let me point out that we don’t have money enough for anything better. Scared to gun it?”

Castor stared up the side of the ship. “Not at all – because that thing will never again rise high enough to crash. We want a ship that will take us out to the Asteroids – right? This superannuated pogo stick wouldn’t even take us to Earth.”

“It will when I get through hopping it up – with your thumb-fingered help. Let’s look through it and see what it needs.”

Castor glanced at the sky. “It’s getting late.” He looked not at the Sun making long shadows on the lunar plain, but at Earth, reading the time from the sunset line now moving across the Pacific.

“Look, Grandpa, are we buying a ship or are we getting to supper on time?”

Castor shrugged. “As you say, Junior.” He lowered his antenna, then started swarming up the rope ladder left there for the accommodation of prospective customers. He used his hands only and despite his cumbersome vacuum suit his movements were easy and graceful. Pollux swarmed after him. Castor cheered up a bit when they reached the control room. The ship had not been stripped for salvage as completely as had many of the ships on the lot. True, the ballistic computer was missing but the rest of the astrogation instruments were in place and the controls to the power room seemed to be complete. The space-battered old hulk was not a wreck, but merely obsolete. A hasty look at the power room seemed to confirm this.

Ten minutes later Castor, still mindful of supper, herded Pollux down the ladder. When Castor reached the ground Pollux said, “Well?” “Let me do the talking.”

The sales office of the lot was a bubble dome nearly a mile away; they moved toward it with the easy, fast lope of old Moon hands. The office airlock was marked by a huge sign:

DEALER DAN

THE SPACESHIP MAN

CRAFT OF ALL TYPES *** SCRAP METAL *** SPARE PARTS FUELING & SERVICE

(AEC License No. 739024)

They cycled through the lock and unclamped each other’s helmets. The outer office was crossed by a railing; back of it sat a girl receptionist. She was watching a newscast while buffing her nails. She spoke without taking her eyes off the TV tank:

“We’re not buying anything, boys – nor hiring anybody.” Castor said, “You sell spaceships?”

She looked up. “Not often enough.” “Then tell your boss we want to see him.”

Her eyebrows went up. “Whom do you think you are kidding, sonny boy? Mr. Ekizian is a busy man.” Pollux said to Castor, “Let’s go over to the Hungarian, Cas. These people don’t mean business.” “Maybe you’re right.”

The girl looked from one to the other, shrugged, and flipped a switch. “Mr. Ekizan – there are a couple of Boy Scouts out here who say they want to buy a spaceship. Do you want to bother with them?”

A deep voice responded, “And why not? We got ships to sell.” Shortly a bald-headed, portly man, dressed in a cigar and a wrinkled moonsuit came out of the inner office and rested his hands on the rail. He looked them over shrewdly but his voice was jovial. “You wanted to see me?”

“You’re the owner?” asked Castor.

“Dealer Dan Ekizian, the man himself. What’s on your mind, boys? Time is money.” “Your secretary told you,” Castor said ungraciously. “Spaceships.”

Dealer Dan took his cigar out of his mouth and examined it. “Really? What would you boys want with a spaceship?” Pollux muttered something; Castor said, “Do you usually do business out here?” He glanced at the girl.

Ekizan followed his glance. “My mistake. Come inside.” He opened the gate for them, led them into his office, and seated them. He ceremoniously offered them cigars; the boys refused politely. “Now out with it kids. Let’s not joke.”

Castor repeated, “Spaceships.”

He pursed his lips. “A luxury liner, maybe? I haven’t got one on the field at the moment but I can always broker a deal.” Pollux stood up. “He’s making fun of us, Cas. Let’s go see the Hungarian.”

“Wait a moment Pol. Mr. Ekizian, you’ve got a heap out there on the south side of the field, a class VII, model ’93 Detroiter. What’s your scrap metal price on her and what does she mass?”

The dealer looked surprised. “That sweet little job? Why, I couldn’t afford to let that go as scrap. And anyhow, even at scrap that would come to a lot of money. If it is metal you boys want, I got it. Just tell me how much and what sort.”

“We were talking about that Detroiter.” “I don’t believe I’ve met you boys before?”

“Sorry, sir. I’m Castor Stone. This is my brother Pollux.”

“Glad to meet you, Mr. Stone. Stone … Stone? Any relation to – The “Unheavenly Twins” – that’s it.” “Smile when you say that,” said Pollux.

“Shut up, Pol. We’re the Stone twins.”

“The frostproof rebreather valve, you invented it, didn’t you?” “That’s right.”

“Say, I got one in my own suit. A good gimmick – you boys are quite the mechanics.” He looked them over again. “Maybe you were really serious about a ship.”

“Of course we were.”

“Hmm. . . you’re not looking for scrap; you want something to get around it. I’ve got just the job for you, a General Motors Jumpbug, practically new. It’s been out on one grubstake job to a couple of thorium prospectors and I had to reclaim it. The hold ain’t even radioactive.”

“Not interested.”

“Better look at it. Automatic landing and three hops takes you right around the equator. Just the thing for a couple of lively, active boys.” “About that Detroiter – what’s your scrap price?”

Ekizian looked hurt. “That’s a deep space vessel, son – It’s no use to you, as a ship. And I can’t let it go for scrap; that’s a clean job. It was a family yacht – never been pushed over six g, never had an emergency landing. It’s got hundreds of millions of miles still in it. I couldn’t let you scrap that ship, even if you were to pay me the factory price. It would be a shame. I love ships. Now take this Jumpbug. . .”

“You can’t sell that Detroiter as anything but scrap,” Castor answered. “It’s been sitting there two years that I know of. If you had hoped to sell her as a ship you wouldn’t have salvaged the computer. She’s pitted, her tubes are no good, and an overhaul would cost more than she’s worth. Now what’s her scrap price?”

Dealer Dan rocked back and forth in his chair; he seemed to be suffering. “Scrap that ship? Just fuel her up and she’s ready to go – Venus, Mars, even the Jovian satellites.”

“What’s your cash price?” “Cash?”

“Cash.”

Ekizian hesitated, then mentioned a price. Castor stood up and said, “You were right, Pollux. Let’s go see the Hungarian.” The dealer looked pained. “If I were to write it off for my own use, I couldn’t cut that price – not in fairness to my partners.”

“Come on, Pol.”

“Look, boys, I can’t let you go over to the Hungarian’s. He’ll cheat you.” Pollux looked savage. “Maybe he’ll do it politely.”

“Shut up, Poll!” Castor went on, “Sorry, Mr. Ekizian, my brother isn’t housebroken. But we can’t do business.” He stood up.

“Wait a minute. That’s a good valve you boys thought up. I use it; I feel I owe you something.” He named another and lower sum. “Sorry. We can’t afford it.” He started to follow Pollux out.

”Wait!” Ekizian mentioned a third price. “Cash,” he added. “Of course. And you pay the sales tax?”

“Well. . . for a cash deal, yes.” “Good.”

“Sit down, gentlemen. I’ll call in my girl and we’ll state the papers.”

“No hurry,” answered Castor. “We’ve still got to see what the Hungarian has on his lot – and the government salvage lot, too.” “Huh? That price doesn’t stand unless you deal right now. Dealer Dan, they call me. I got no time to waste dickering twice.” “Nor have we. See you tomorrow. If it hasn’t sold we can take up where we left off.”

“If you expect me to hold that price, I’ll have to have a nominal option payment.”

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t expect you to pass up a sale for us. If you can sell it by tomorrow, we wouldn’t think of standing in your way. Come on, Pol.” Ekizian shrugged. “Been nice meeting you, boys.”

“Thank you, sir.”

As they closed the lock behind them and waited for it to cycle, Pollux said “You should have paid him an option.” His brother looked at him. “You’re retarded, Junior.”

On leaving Dealer Dan’s office the boys headed for the spaceport, intending to catch the passenger tube back to the city, fifty miles west of the port. They had less than thirty minutes if they were to get home for supper on time – unimportant in itself but Castor disliked starting a family debate on the defensive over a side issue. He kept hurrying Pollux along.

Their route took them through the grounds of General Synthetics Corporation, square miles of giant cracking plants, sun screens, condensers, fractionating columns, all sorts of huge machinery to take advantage of the burning heat, the bitter cold, and the endless vacuum for industrial chemical engineering purposes – a Dantesque jungle of unlikely shapes. The boys paid no attention to it; they were used to it. They hurried down the company road in the flying leaps the Moon’s low gravity permitted, making twenty miles an hour. Half way to the port they were overtaken by a company tractor; Pollux flagged it down.

As he ground to a stop, the driver spoke to them via his cab radio: “What do you want?” “Are you meeting the Terra shuttle?”

“Subject to the whims of fate – yes.”

“It’s Jefferson,” said Pollux. “Hey, Jeff – it’s Cas and Pol. Drop us at the tube station, will you?”

“Climb on the rack. Mind the volcano – come up the usual way.” As they did so he went on, “What brings you two carrot-topped accident-prones to this far reach of culture?”

Castor hesitated and glanced at Pollux. They had known Jefferson James for some time, having bowled against him in the city league. He was an old Moon hand but not a native, having come to Luna before they were born to gather color for a novel. The novel was still unfinished.

Pollux nodded. Castor said, “Jeff, can you keep a secret?”

“Certainly – but permit me to point out that these radios are not directional. See your attorney before admitting any criminal act or intention.” Castor looked around; aside from two tractor trucks in the distance no one seemed to be in line-of-sight. “We’re going into business.” “When were you out of it?”

“This is a new line – interplanetary trade. We’re going to buy our own ship and run it ourselves.”

The driver whistled. “Remind me to sell Four-Planet Export short. When does this blitz take place?”

“We’re shopping for a ship now. Know of a good buy?”

“I’ll alert my spies.” He shut up, being busy thereafter with the heavier traffic near the spaceport. Presently he said, “Here’s your stop.” As the boys climbed down from the rack of the truck he added, “If you need a crewman, keep me in mind.”

“Okay, Jeff. And thanks for the lift.”

Despite the lift they were late. A squad of marine M.P.s heading into the city on duty pre-empted the first tube car; by the time the next arrived the ship from Earth had grounded and its passengers took priority Thereafter they got tangled with the changing shift from the synthetics plant. It was well past suppertime when they arrived at their family’s apartment a half mile down inside Luna city

Mr. Stone looked up as they came in. “Well! the star boarders,” he announced. He was sitting with a small recorder in his lap, a throat mike clipped to his neck.

“Dad, it was unavoidable,” Castor began. “We -”

“It always is,” his father cut in. “Never mind the details. Your dinner is in the cozy. I wanted to send it back but your mother went soft and didn’t let me.”

Dr. Stone looked up from the far end of the living room, where she was modelling a head of their older sister, Meade. “Correction,” she said. “Your father went soft; I would have let you starve. Meade, quit turning your head.”

“Check,” announced their four-year old brother and got up from the floor where he had been playing chess with their grand mother. He ran towards them. “Hey, Cas, Pol – where you been? Did you go to the port? Why didn’t you take me? Did you bring me anything?”

Castor swung him up by his heels and held him upside down. “Yes. No. Maybe. And why should we? Here, Pol – catch.” He sailed the child through the air; his twin reached out and caught him, still by the heels.

“Check yourself,” announced Grandmother, “and mate in three moves. Shouldn’t let your social life distract you from your game, Lowell.” The youngster looked back at the board from his upside down position. “Wrong, Hazel. Now I let you take my queen, then – Blammie!”

His grandmother looked again at the board. “Huh? Wait a minute – suppose I refuse your queen, then – Why, the little scamp! He’s trapped me again.”

Meade said, “Shouldn’t let him beat you so often, Hazel. It’s not good for him.” “Meade, for the ninth time, quit turning your head!”

“Sorry, Mother. Let’s take a rest.”

Grandmother snorted. “You don’t think I let him beat me on purpose, do you? You play him; I am giving up the game for good.” Meade answered just as her mother spoke; at the same time Pollux chucked the boy back at Castor. “You take him. I want to eat.” The child squealed. Mr. Stone shouted, “QUIET!”

“And stay quiet,” he went on, while unfastening the throat mike. “How is a man to make a living in all this racket? This episode has to be done over completely, sent to New York tomorrow, shot, canned, distributed, and on the channels by the end of the week. It’s not possible.”

“Then don’t do it,” Dr. Stone answered serenely. “Or work in your room – it’s soundproof.”

Mr. Stone turned to his wife. “My dear, I’ve explained a thousand times that I can’t work in there by myself. I get no stimulation. I fall asleep.” Castor said, “How’s it going, Dad? Rough?”

“Well, now that you ask me, the villains are way ahead and I don’t see a chance for our heroes.”

“I thought of a gimmick while Pol and I were out. You have this young kid you introduced into the story slide into the control room while everybody is asleep. They don’t suspect him, see? – he’s too young so they haven’t put him in irons. Once in the control room – “ Castor stopped and looked crestfallen. “No, it won’t do; he’s too young to handle the ship. He wouldn’t know how.”

“Why do you say that?” his father objected. “All I have to do is to plant that he has had a chance to. . . let me see –“ He stopped; his face went blank. “No,” he said presently.

“No good, huh?”

“Eh? What? It smells – but I think I can use it. Stevenson did something like it in Treasure Island – and I think he got it from Homer. Let’s see; if we

–“ He again went into his trance.

Pollux had opened the warming cupboard Castor dropped his baby brother on the floor and accepted a dinner pack from his twin. He opened it.

“Meat pie again,” he stated bleakly and sniffed it. “Synthetic, too.”

“Say that over again and louder,” his sister urged him. “I’ve been trying for weeks to get Mother to subscribe to another restaurant.” “Don’t talk, Meade,” Dr. Stone answered. “I’m modelling your mouth.”

Grandmother Stone snorted. “You youngsters have it too easy. When I came to the Moon there was a time when we had nothing but soya beans and coffee powder for three months.”

Meade answered, “Hazel, the last time you told us about that it was two months and it was tea instead of coffee.”

“Young lady, who’s telling this lie? You, or me?” Hazel stood up and came over to her twin grandsons. “What were you two doing on Dan Ekizian’s lot?”

Castor looked at Pollux, who looked back. Castor said cautiously, “Who told you that we were there?” “Don’t try to kid your grandmother. When you have been on -”

The entire family joined her in chorus: “- on the Moon as long as I have!” Hazel sniffed. “Sometimes I wonder why I married!”

Her son said, “Don’t try to answer that question,” then continued to his sons, “Well, what were you doing there?” Castor consulted Pollux by eye, then answered, “Well, Dad, it’s like this -”

His father nodded. “Your best flights of imagination always start that way. Attend carefully, everybody.” “Well, you know that money you are holding for us?”

“What about it?”

“Three per cent isn’t very much.”

Mr. Stone shook his head vigorously. “I will not invest your royalties in some wildcat stock. Financial genius may have skipped my generation but when I turn that money over to you, it will be intact.”

“That’s just it. It worries you. You could turn it over to us now and quit worrying about it.” “No. You are too young.”

“We weren’t too young to earn it.”

His mother snickered. “They got you, Roger. Come here and I’ll see if I can staunch the blood.”

Dr. Stone said serenely, “Don’t heckle Roger when he is coping with the twins, Mother. Meade, turn a little to the left.”

Mr. Stone answered, “You’ve got a point there, Cas. But you may still be too young to hang on to it. What is this leading up to?”

Castor signalled with his eyes; Pollux took over. “Dad, we’ve got a really swell chance to take that money and put it to work. Not a wildcat stock, not a stock at all. We’ll have every penny right where we can see it, right where we could cash in on it at any time. And in the meantime we’ll be making lots more money.”

“Hmmm…how?”

“We buy a ship and put it to work.”

His father opened his mouth; Castor cut in swiftly, “We can pick up a Detroiter VII cheap and overhaul it ourselves; we won’t be out a cent for wages.”

Pollux filled in without a break. “You’ve said yourself, Dad, that we are both born mechanics; we’ve got the hands for it.” Castor went on. “We’d treat it like a baby because it would be our own.”

Pollux: “We’ve both got both certificates, control and power. We wouldn’t need any crew.” Castor: “No overhead – that’s the beauty of it.”

Pollux: “So we carry trade goods out to the Asteroids and we bring back a load of high-grade. We can’t lose.” Castor: “Four hundred percent, maybe five hundred.”

Pollux: “More like six hundred.”

Castor: “And no worries for you.”

Pollux: “And we’d be out of your hair.” Castor: “Not late for dinner.”

Pollux had his mouth open when his father again yelled, “QUIET!” He went on, “Edith, bring the barrel. This time we use it.” Mr. Stone had a theory, often expressed, that boys should be raised in a barrel and fed through the bunghole. The barrel had no physical existence.

Dr. Stone said, “Yes, dear,” and went on modelling.

Grandmother Stone said, “Don’t waste your money on a Detroiter. They’re unstable; the gyro system is no good. Wouldn’t have one as a gift. Get a Douglas.”

Mr. Stone turned to his mother. “Hazel, if you are going to encourage the boys in this nonsense -”

“Not at all! Not at all! Merely intellectual discussion. Now with a Douglas they could make some money. A Douglas has a very favorable -” “Hazel!”

His mother broke off, then said thoughtfully, as if to herself, “I know there is free speech on the Moon: I wrote it into the charter myself.”

Roger Stone turned back to his sons. “See here, boys – when the Chamber of Commerce decided to include pilot training in their Youth-Welfare program I was all for it. I even favored it when they decided to issue junior licenses to anybody who graduated high in the course. When you two got your jets I was proud as could be. It’s a young man’s game; they license commercial pilots at eighteen and -”

“And they retire them at thirty,” added Castor. “We haven’t any time to waste. We’ll be too old for the game before you know it.”

“Pipe down. I’ll do the talking for a bit. If you think I’m going to draw that money out of the bank and let you two young yahoos go gallivanting around the system in a pile of sky junk that will probably blow the first time you go over two g’s, you had better try another think. Besides, you’re going down to Earth for school next September.”

“We’ve been to Earth,” answered Castor. “We didn’t like it,” added Pollux.

“Too dirty.”

“Likewise too noisy.”

“Groundhogs everywhere,” Castor finished.

Mr. Stone brushed it aside. “Two weeks you were there – not time enough to find out what the place is like. You’ll love it, once you get used to it. Learn to ride horseback, play baseball, see the Ocean”

“A lot of impure water,” Castor answered. “Horses are to eat.”

“Take baseball,” Castor continued. “It’s not practical. How can you figure a one-g trajectory and place your hand at the point of contact in the free- flight time between bases? We’re not miracle men.”

“I played it.”

“But you grew up in a one-g field; you’ve got a distorted notion of physics. Anyhow, why would we want to learn to play baseball? When we come back, we wouldn’t be able to play it here. Why, you might crack your helmet”

Mr. Stone shook his head. “Games aren’t the point. Play base-ball or not, as suits you. But you should get an education.” “What does Luna City Technical lack that we need? And if so, why? After all, Dad, you were on the Board of Education.” “I was not; I was mayor.”

“Which made you a member ex-officio – Hazel told us.”

Mr. Stone glanced at his mother; she was looking elsewhere. He went on, “Tech is a good school, of its sort, but we don’t pretend to offer everything at Tech. After all, the Moon is still an outpost, a frontier -”

“But you said,” Pollux interrupted, “in your retiring speech as mayor, that Luna City was the Athens of the future and the hope of the new age.” “Poetic license. Tech is still not Harvard. Don’t you boys want to see the world’s great works of art? Don’t you want to study the world’s great

literature?”

“We’ve read lvanhoe,” said Castor.

“And we don’t want to read The Mill on the Floss,” added Pollux. “We prefer your stuff.”

“My stuff? My stuff isn’t literature. It’s more of an animated comic strip.” “We like it,” Castor said firmly.

His father took a deep breath. “Thank you. Which reminds me that I still have a full episode to sweat out tonight, so I will cut this discussion short. In the first place you can’t touch the money without my thumbprint – from now on I am going to wear gloves. In the second place both of you are too young for an unlimited license.”

“You could get us a waiver for out-system. When we got back we’d probably be old enough for unlimited.” “You’re too young!”

Castor said, “Why, Dad, not half an hour ago you accepted a gimmick from me in which you were going to have an eleven-year-old kid driving a ship.”

“I’ll raise his age!”

“It’ll ruin your gimmick.”

“Confound it! That’s just fiction – and poor fiction at that. It’s hokum, dreamed up to sell merchandise.” He suddenly looked suspiciously at his son. “Cas, you planted that gimmick on me. Just to give yourself an argument in favor of this hair-brained scheme – didn’t you?”

Castor looked pious. “Why, Father, how could you think such a thing?” “Don’t Father me! I can tell a hawk from a Hanshaw.”

“Anybody can,” Grandmother Hazel commented. “The Hawk class is a purely commercial type while the Hanshaw runabout is a sport job. Come to think about it, boys, a Hanshaw might be better than a Douglas. I like its fractional controls and -”

“Hazel!” snapped her son. “Quit encouraging the boys. And quit showing off. You’re not the only engineer in the family.” “I’m the only good one,” she answered smugly.

“Oh, yes? Nobody ever complained about my work.” “Then why did you quit?”

“You know why. Fiddle with finicky figures for months on end – and what have you got? A repair dock. Or a stamping mill. And who cares?” “So you aren’t an engineer. You’re merely a man who knows engineering.”

“What about yourself? You didn’t stick with it.”

“No,” she admitted, “but my reasons were different. I saw three big, hairy, male men promoted over my head and not one of them could do a partial integration without a pencil. Presently I figured out that the Atomic Energy Commission had a bias on the subject of women no matter what the civil service rules said. So I took a job dealing blackjack. Luna City didn’t offer much choice in those days – and I had you to support.”

The argument seemed about to die out; Castor judged it was time to mix it up again. “Hazel, do you really think we should get a Hanshaw? I’m not sure we can afford it.”

“Well, now, you really need a third crewman for a -” “Do you want to buy in?”

“Mr. Stone interrupted. “Hazel, I will not stand by and let you encourage this. I’m putting my foot down.”

“You look silly standing there on one foot. Don’t try to bring me up, Roger. At ninety-five my habits are fairly well set.” “Ninety-five indeed! Last week you were eighty-five.”

“It’s been a hard week. Back to our muttons – why don’t you buy in with them? You could go along and keep them out of trouble.”

“What? Me?” Mr. Stone took a deep breath. “(A) a marine guard couldn’t keep these two junior-model Napoleons out of trouble. I know; I’ve tried.

(B) I do not like a Hanshaw; they are fuel hogs. (C) I have to turn out three episodes a week of The Scourge of the Spaceways – including one which must be taped tonight, if this family will ever quiet down!”

“Roger,” his mother answered. “trouble in this family is like water for fish. And nobody asked you to buy a Hanshaw, As to your third point, give me a blank spool and I’ll dictate the next three episodes tonight while I’m brushing my hair.” Hazel’s hair was still thick and quite red. So far, no one had caught her dyeing it. “It’s about time you broke that contract anyway; you’ve won your bet.”

Her son winced. Two years before be had let himself be trapped into a bet that he could write better stuff than was being channeled up from Earth

and had gotten himself caught in a quicksand of fat checks and options. “I can’t afford to quit,” he said feebly.

“What good is money if you don’t have time to spend it? Give me that spool and the box.” “You can’t write it.”

“Want to bet?”

Her son backed down; no one yet had won a bet with Hazel.

“That’s beside the point I’m a family man; I’ve got Edith and Buster and Meade to think about, too.”

Meade turned her head again. “If you’re thinking about me, Daddy, I’d like to go. Why, I’ve never been any place – except that one trip to Venus and twice to New York.”

“Hold still. Meade,” Dr. Stone said quietly. She went on to her husband, “You know, Roger, I was thinking just the other day how cramped this apartment is. And we haven’t been any place, as Meade says, since we got back from Venus.”

Mr. Stone stared. “You too? Edith, this apartment is bigger than any ship compartment; you know that.” “Yes, but a ship seems bigger. In free fall one gets so much more use out of the room.”

“My dear, do I understand that you are supporting this junket?”

“Oh, not at all! I was speaking in general terms. But you do sleep better aboard ship. You never snore in free fall.” “I do not snore!”

Dr. Stone did not answer. Hazel snickered. Pollux caught Castor’s eye and Castor nodded; the two slipped quietly away to their own room. It was a lot of trouble to get mother involved in a family argument, but worth the effort; nothing important was ever decided until she joined in.

Meade tapped on their door a little later; Castor let her in and looked her over; she was dressed in the height of fashion for the American Old West. “Square dancing again, huh?”

“Eliminations tonight. Look here, Cas, even if Daddy breaks loose from the money you two might be stymied by being underage for an unlimited license – right?”

“We figure on a waiver.” They had also discussed blasting off without a waiver, but it did not seem the time to mention it. “But you might not get it. Just bear in mind that I will be eighteen next week. Bye now!”

“Good night.”

When she had gone Pollux said, “That’s silly. She hasn’t even taken her limited license.” “No, but she’s had astrogation in school and we could coach her.”

“Cas, you’re crazy. We can’t drag her all around the system; girls are a nuisance.” “You’ve got that wrong, Junior. You mean “sisters” – girls are okay.”

Pollux considered this. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” “I’m always right.”

“Oh, so? How about the time you tried to use liquid air to -” “Let’s not be petty!”

Grandmother Hazel stuck her head in next. “Just a quick battle report, boys. Your father is groggy but still fighting gamely.” “Is he going to let us use the money?”

“Doesn’t look like it, as now. Tell me, how much did Ekizian ask you for that Detroiter?”

Castor told her; she whistled. “The gonoph,” she said softly. “That unblushing groundhog – I’ll have his license lifted.” “Oh, we didn’t agree to pay it.”

“Don’t sign with him at all unless I’m at your elbow. I know where the body is buried.”

“Okay. Look, Hazel, you really think a Detroiter VII is unstable?”

She wrinkled her brow. “Its gyros are too light for the ship’s moment of inertia. I hate a ship that wobbles. If we could pick up a war-surplus triple- duo gyro system, cheap, you would have something. I’ll inquire around.”

It was much later when Mr. Stone looked in. “Still awake, boys?” “Oh, sure, come in.”

“About that matter we were discussing tonight -” Pollux said, “Do we get the money?”

Castor dug him in the ribs but it was too late. Their father said, “I told you that was out. But I wanted to ask you: did you, when you were shopping around today, happen to ask, us, about any larger ships?”

Castor looked blank. “Why, no sir. We couldn’t afford anything larger could we, Pol?” “Gee, no! Why do you ask, Dad?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing at all! Uh, good night.”

He left. The twins turned to each other and solemnly shook hands.

II – A CASE FOR DRAMATIC LICENSE

At breakfast the next morning – ‘morning’ by Greenwich time, of course; it was still late afternoon by local sun time and would be for a couple of days – the Stone family acted out the episode Hazel had dictated the night before of Mr. Stone’s marathon adventure serial. Grandma Hazel had stuck the spool of dictation into the autotyper as soon as she had gotten up; there was a typed copy for each of them. Even Buster had a small side to read and Hazel played several parts, crouching and jumping around and shifting her voice from rusty bass to soprano.

Everybody got into the act – everybody but Mr. Stone; he listened with a dour try-to-make-me-laugh expression.

Hazel finished her grand cliff-hanging finale by knocking over her coffee She plucked the cup out of the air and had a napkin under the brown flood before it could reach the floor under the urge of the Moon’s leisurely field. “Well?” she said breathlessly to her son, while still panting from the Galactic Overlord’s frantic attempts to escape a just fate. “How about it? Isn’t that a dilly? Did we scare the dickens out of ’em or didn’t we?”

Roger Stone did not answer; he merely held his nose. Hazel looked amazed. “You didn’t like it? Why, Roger, I do believe you’re jealous. To think I would raise a son with spirit so mean that he would be envious of his own mother!”

Buster spoke up. “I liked it Let’s do that part over where I shoot the space pirate.” He pointed a finger and made a buzzing noise. “Whee! Blood all over the bulkheads!”

“There’s your answer, Roger. Your public. If Buster likes it, you’re in.” “I thought it was exciting,” Meade put in. “What was wrong with it, Daddy?” “Yes,” agreed Hazel belligerently. “Go ahead. Tell us.”

“Very well. In the first place, spaceships do not make hundred-and eighty-degree turns.” “This one does!”

“In the second place, what in blazes is this “Galactic Overlord” nonsense? When did he creep in?” “Oh, that! Son, your show was dying on its feet, so I gave it a transfusion.”

“But “Galactic Overlords” – now, really! It’s not only preposterous: it’s been used over and over again.”

“Is that bad? Next week I’m going to equip Hamlet with atomic propulsion and stir it in with The Comedy of Errors. I suppose you think Shakespeare will sue me?”

“He will if he can stop spinning.” Roger Stone shrugged ‘I’ll send it in. There’s no time left to do another one and the contract doesn’t say it has to be good: it just says I have to deliver it. They’ll rewrite it in New York anyway.”

His mother answered, “Even money says your fan mail is up twenty-five per cent on this episode.” “No, thank you. I don’t want you wearing yourself out writing fan mail – not at your age.”

“What’s wrong with my age? I used to paddle you twice a week and I can still do it. Come on; put up your dukes!” “Too soon after breakfast.”

“Sissy! Pick your way of dying – Marquis of Queensbury, dockside, or kill-quick.”

“Send around your seconds; let’s do this properly. In the meantime –“ He turned to his sons. “Boys, have you any plans for today?” Castor glanoed at his brother, then said cautiously, “well, we were thinking of doing a little more shopping for ships.

“I’ll go with you.”

Pollux looked up sharply. “You mean we get the money?” His brother glared at him. Their father answered, “No, your money stays in the bank where it belongs.”

“Then why bother to shop?” He got an elbow in the ribs for this remark.

“I’m interested in seeing what the market has to offer,” Mr. Stone answered. “Coming, Edith?” Dr. Stone answered, “I trust your judgement, my dear.”

Hazel gulped more coffee and stood lip. “I’m coming along.” Buster bounced down out of his chair. “Me, too!”

Dr. Stone stopped him. “No, dear. Finish your oatmeal.”

“No! I’m going, too. Can’t I, Grandma Hazel?”

Hazel considered it. Riding herd on the child outside the pressurised city was a full-time chore; he was not old enough to be trusted to handle his vacuum-suit controls properly. On this occasion she wanted to be free to give her full attention to other matters. “I’m afraid not, Lowell. Tell you what, sugar, I’ll keep my phone open and we’ll play chess while I’m away.”

“It’s no fun to play chess by telephone. I can’t tell what you are thinking.”

Hazel stared at him. “So that’s it? I’ve suspected it for some time. Maybe I can win a game once. No, don’t start whimpering – or I’ll take your slide rule away from you for a week.” The child thought it over, shrugged, and his face became placid. Hazel turned to her son. “Do you suppose he really does hear thoughts?”

Her son looked at his least son. “I’m afraid to find out.” He sighed and added, “Why couldn’t I have been born into a nice, normal, stupid family? Your fault, Hazel.”

“His mother patted his arm. “Don’t fret, Roger. You pull down the average.”

“Hummph! Give me that spool. I’d better shoot it off to New York before I lose my nerve.”

Hazel fetched it; Mr. Stone took it to the apartment phone, punched in the code for RCA New York with the combination set for high speed transcription relay. As he slipped the spool into its socket he added, “I shouldn’t do this. In addition to that “Galactic Overlord” nonsense, Hazel, you messed up the continuity by killing off four of my standard characters.”

Hazel kept her eye on the spool; it had started to revolve. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it all worked out. You’ll see.”

“Eh? What do you mean? Are you intending to write more episodes? I’m tempted to go limp and let you struggle with it – I’m sick of it and it would serve you right. Galactic Overlords indeed!”

His mother continued to watch the spinning spool in the telephone. At high speed relay the thirty-minute spool zipped through in thirty seconds. Shortly it went spung! and popped up out of the socket; Hazel breathed relief. The episode was now either in New York, or was being held automatically in the Luna City telephone exchange, waiting for a break in the live Luna-to-Earth traffic. In either case it was out of reach, as impossible to recall as an angry word.

“Certainly I plan to do more episodes,” she told him. “Exactly seven, in fact.” “Huh! Why seven?”

“Haven’t you figured out why I am killing off characters? Seven episodes is the end of this quarter and a new option date. This time they won’t pick up your option because every last one of the characters will be dead and the story will be over. I’m taking you off the hook, son.”

“What? Hazel, you can’t do that! Adventure serials never end.” “Does it say so in your contract?”

“No, but -”

“You’ve been grousing about how you wanted to get off this golden treadmill. You would never have the courage to do it yourself, so your loving mother has come to the rescue. You’re a free man again, Roger.”

“But -” His face relaxed. “I suppose you’re right Though I would prefer to commit suicide, even literary suicide, in my own way and at my own time. Mmm. .. see here, Hazel, when do you plan to kill off John Sterling?”

“Him? Why, Our Hero has to last until the final episode, naturally. He and the Galactic Overlord do each other in at the very end. Slow music.” “Yes. Yes, surely… that’s the way it would have to be. But you can’t do it”

“Why not?”

“Because I insist on writing that scene myself. I’ve hated that mealy-mouthed Galahad ever since I thought him up. I’m not going to let anyone else have the fun of killing him; he’s mine!”

His mother bowed. “Your honour, sir.”

Mr. Stone’s face brightened; he reached for his pouch and slung it over his shoulder. “And now let’s look at some space-ships!” “Geronimo!”

As the four left the apartment and stepped on the slid eway that would take them to the pressure lfft to the surface Pollux said to his grandmother, “Hazel, what does “Geronimo” mean?”

“Ancient Druid phrase meaning “Let’s get out of here even if we have to walk.” So pick up your feet.”

III – THE SECOND-HAND MARKET

They stopped at the Locker Rooms at East Lock and suited up. As usual, Hazel unbelted her gun and strapped it to her vacuum suit. None of the others was armed; aside from civic guards and military police no one went armed in Luna City at this late date except a few of the very old-timers like Hazel herself. Castor said, “Hazel, why do you bother with that?”

“To assert my right. Besides, I might meet a rattlesnake.” “Rattlesnakes? On the Moon? Now, Hazel!”

“’Now, Hazel’” yourself. More rattlesnakes walking around on their hind legs than ever wriggled in the dust. Anyhow, do you remember the reason the White Knight gave Alice for keeping a mouse trap on his horse?”

“Uh, not exactly.”

“Look it up when we get home. You kids are ignorant Give me a hand with this helmet.”

The conversation stopped, as Buster was calling his grandmother and insisting that they start their game. Castor could read her lips through her helmet; when he had his own helmet in place and his suit radio switched on he could hear them arguing about which had the white men last game. Hazel was preoccupied thereafter as Buster, with the chess board in front of him, was intentionally hurrying the moves, whereas Hazel was kept busy visualising the board.

They had to wait at the lock for a load of tourists, just arrived in the morning shuttle from Earth, to spill out. One of two women passengers stopped and stared at them. “Thelma,” she said to her companion, “that little man – he’s wearing a gun.”

The other woman urged her along. “Don’t take notice,” she said. “It’s not polite.” She went on, changing the subject ‘I wonder where we can buy souvenir turtles around here? I promised Herbert.”

Hazel turned and glared at them; Mr. Stone took her arm and urged her into the now empty lock. She continued to fume as the lock cycled. “Groundhogs! Souvenir turtles indeed!”

“Mind your blood pressure, Hazel,” her son advised.

“You mind yours.” She looked up at him and suddenly grinned. “I should ha’ drilled her, podnuh – like this.” She made a fast draw to demonstrate, then, before returning the weapon to its holster, opened the charge chamber and removed a cough drop. This she inserted through the pass valve of her helmet and caught it on her tongue. Sucking it, she continued. “Just the same, son, that did it. Your mind may not be made up; mine is. Luna is getting to be like any other ant hill. I’m going out somewhere to find elbow room, about a quarter of a billion miles of it.”

“How about your pension?”

“Pension be hanged! I got along all right before I had it, Hazel, along with the other remaining Founding Fathers – and mothers – of the lunar colony, had been awarded a lifetime pension from a grateful city. This might be for a long period, despite her age, as the normal human life span under the biologically easy conditions of the Moon’s low gravity had yet to be determined; the Luna city geriatrics clinic regularly revised the estimate upwards.

She continued, “How about you? Are you going to stay here, like a sardine in a can? Better grab your chance, son, before they run you for office again. Oueen to king’s bishop three, Lowell.”

“We’ll see. Pressure is down; let’s get moving.”

Castor and Pollux carefully stayed out of the discussion; things were shaping up.

As well as Dealer Dan’s lot, the government salvage yard and that of the Bankrupt Hungarian were, of course, close by the spaceport The Hungarian’s lot sported an ancient sun-tarnished sign – BARGAINS! BARGAINS!! BARGAINS!!! GOING OUT OF BUSINESS – but there were no bargains there, as Mr. Stone decided in ten minutes and Hazel in five. The government salvage yard held mostly robot freighters without living qnarters – one-trip ships, the interplanetary equivalent of discarded packing cases – and obsolete military craft unsuited for most private uses. They ended up at Ekizian’s lot.

Pollux headed at once for the ship he and his brother had picked out. His father immediately called him back ‘Hey,” Pol! What’s your hurry?” “Don’t you want to see our ship?”

“Your ship? Are you still laboring under the fancy that I am going to let you two refugees from a correction school buy that Deiroiter?”

“Huh? Then what did we come out here for?”

“I want to look at some ships. But I am not interested in a Detroiter VII.”

Pollux said, “Huh! See here, Dad, we aren’t going to settle for a jumpbug. We need a – “The rest of his protest was cut off as Castor reached over

and switched off his walkie-talkie; Castor picked it up:

“What sort of a ship, Dad? Pol and I have looked over most of these heaps, one time or another.” “Well, nothing fancy. A conservative family job. Let’s look at that Hanshaw up ahead.”

Hazel said, “I thought you said Hanshaws were fuel hogs, Roger?” “True, but they are very comfortable. You can’t have everything.” “Why not?”

Pollux had switched his radio back on immediately. He put in, “Dad, we don’t want a runabout. No cargo space.” Castor reached again for his belt switch; he shut up.

But Mr. Stone answered hirn. “Forget about cargo space. You two boys would lose your shirts if you attempted to compete with the sharp traders running around the system. I’m looking for a ship that will let the family make an occasional pleasure trip; I’m not in the market for a commercial freighter.”

Pollux shut up; they all went to the Hanshaw Mr. Stone had pointed out and swarmed up into her control room. Hazel used both hands and feet in climbing the rope ladder but was only a little behind her descendants. Once they were in the ship she went down the hatch into the power room; the others looked over the control roof and the living quarters, combined in one compartment. The upper or bow end was the control station with couches for pilot and co-pilot. The lower or after end had two more acceleration couches for passengers, all four couches were reversible, for the ship could be tumbled in flight, caused to spin end over end to give the ship artificial ‘gravity’ through centrifugal force – in which case the forward direction would be ‘down’, just the opposite of the ‘down’ of flight under power.

Pollux looked over these arrangements with distaste. The notion of cluttering up a ship with gadgetry to coddle the tender stomachs of groundhogs disgusted him. No wonder Hanshaws were fuel hogs!

But his father thought differently. He was happily stretched out in the pilot’s couch, fingering the controls. “This baby might do,” he announced, “if the price is right.”

Castor said, “I thought you wanted this for the family, “I do.”

“Be pretty cramped in here once you rigged extra couches. Edith won’t like that” “You let me worry, about your mother. Anyhow, there are enough couches now. “With only four? How do you figure?”

“Me, your mother, your grandmother, and Buster. If Meade is along we’ll rig something for the baby. By which you may conclude that I am really serious about you two juvenile delinquents finishing your schooling. Now don’t blow your safeties! – I have it in mind that you two can use this crate to run around in after you finish school. Or even during vacations, once you get your unlimited licenses. Fair enough?”

The twins gave him the worst sort of argument to answer; neither of them said anything. Their expressions said everything that was necessary. Their father went on, “See here – I’m trying to be fair and I’m trying to. be generous. But how many boys your age do you know, or have even heard of, who have their own ship? None – right? You should get it through your heads that you are not supermen.”

Castor grabbed at it. “How do you know that we are not “supermen”?”

Poliux followed through with, “Conjecture, pure conjecture.” Before Mr. Stone could think of an effective answer his mother poked her head up the power room hatch. Her expression seemed to say she had whiffed a very bad odor. Mr. Stone said, “What’s the trouble, Hazel? Power plant on the blink?”

“”On the blink”, he says! Why, I wouldn’t lift this clunker at two gravities.” “What’s the matter with it?”

“I never saw a more disgracefully abused – No, I won’t tell you. Inspect it yourself; you don’t trust my engineering ability.” “Now see here, Hazel, I’ve never told you I don’t trust your engineering.”

“No, but you don’t. Don’t try to sweet-talk me; I know. So check the power room yourself. Pretend I haven’t seen it”

Her son turned away and headed for the outer door, saying huffily, “I’ve never suggested that you did not know power plants. If you are talking about that Gantry design, that was ten years ago; by now you should have forgiven me for being right about it.”

To the surprise of the twins Hazel did not continue the argument but followed her son docilely into the air lock. Mr. Stone started down the rope ladder; Castor pulled his grandmother aside, switched off both her radio and pushed his helmet into contact with hers so that he might speak with her in private. “Hazel, what was wrong with the power plant? Pol and I went through this ship last week – I didn’t spot anything too bad.”

Hazel look at him pityingly. “You’ve been losing sleep lately? It’s obvious – only four couches.”

“Oh.” Castor switched on his radio and silently followed his brother and father to the ground.

Etched on the stern of the next ship they visited was Cherub, Roma, Terra, and she actually was of the Carlotti Motors Angel series, though she resembled very little the giant Archangels, She was short – barely a hundred fifty feet high – and slender, and she was at least twenty years old. Mr. Stone had been reluctant to inspect her. “She’s too big for us,” he protested, “and I’m not looking for a cargo ship.”

“Too big how?” Hazel asked ‘”Too big” is a financial term, not a matter of size. And with her cargo hold empty, think how lively she’ll be. I like a ship that jumps when I twist its tail – and so do you.”

“Mmmm, yes,” he admitted. “Well, I suppose it doesn’t cost anything to look her over.” “You’re talking saner every day, son.” Hazel reached for the rope ladder.

The ship was old and old-fashioned and she had plied many a lonely million miles of space, but, thanks to the preservative qualities of the Moon’s airless waste, she had not grown older since the last time her jets bad blasted. She had simply slumbered timelessly, waiting for someone to come along and appreciate her sleeping beauty. Her air had been. salvaged; there was no dust in her compartments. Many of her auxiliary fittings had been stripped and sold, but she herself was bright and clean and spaceworthy.

The light Hazel could see in her son’s eyes she judged to be love at first sight. She hung back and signalled the twins to keep quiet. The open airlock had let them into the living quarters; a galley-saloon, two little staterooms, and a bunkroom. The control room was separate, above them, and was a combined conn. & comm. Roger Stone immediately climbed into it.

Below the quarters was the cargo space and below that the power room. The little ship was a passenger-carrying freighter, conversely a passenger ship with cargo space; it was this dual nature which had landed her, an unwanted orphan, in Dealer Dan’s second-hand lot. Too slow when carrying cargo to compete with the express liners, she could carry too few passengers to make money without a load of freight, Although of sound construction she did not fit into the fiercely competitive business world.

The twins elected to go on down into the power room. Hazel poked around the living quarters, nodded approvingly at the galley, finally climbed up into the control room. There she found her son stretched out in the pilot’s couch and fingering the controls. Hazel promptly swung herself into the co- pilot’s couch, settled down in the bare rack – the pneumatic pads were missing – and turned her head toward Roger Stone. She called out ‘All stations manned and ready, Captain !”

He looked at her and grinned. “Stand by to raise ship!”

She answered, “Board green! Clear from tower! Ready for count off!”

“Minus thirty! Twenty-nine – twenty-eight –“ He broke off and added sheepishly, “It does feel good.”

“You’re dern tootin’ it does. Let’s grab ourselves a chunk of it before we’re too old. This city life is getting us covered with moss.” Roger Stone swung his long legs out of the pilot’s couch. “Um, maybe we should. Yes, we really should.”

Hazel’s booted feet hit the deck plates by his. “That’s my boy! I’ll raise you up to man size yet. Let’s go see what the twins have taken apart.”

The twins were still in the power room. Roger went down first; he said to Castor, “Well, son, how does it look? Will she raise high enough to crash?”

Castor wrinkled his forehead. “We haven’t found anything wrong, exactly, but they’ve taken her boost units out. The pile is just a shell.”

Hazel said, “What do you expect? For ’em to leave “hot” stuff sitting in a decommissioned ship? In time the whole stern would be radioactive, even if somebody didn’t steal it.

Her son answered, “Quit showing off, Hazel, Cas knows that. We’ll check the log data and get a metallurgical report later – if we ever talk business.”

Hazel answered, “King’s knight to queen bishop five. What’s the matter, Roger? Cold feet?”

“No, I like this ship. . . but I don’t know that I can pay for her. And even if she were a gift, it will cost a fortune to overhaul her and get her ready for space.”

“Pooh! I’ll run the overhaul myself, with Cas and Pol to do the dirty work. Won’t cost you anything but dockage. As for the price, we’ll burn that bridge when we come to it.”

“I’ll supervise the overhaul, myself.”

“Want to fight? Let’s go down and find out just what inflated notions Dan Ekizian has this time. And remember – let me do the talking.” “Now wait a minute – I never said I was going to buy this bucket.”

“Who said you were? But it doesn’t cost anything to dicker. I can make Dan see reason.”

Dealer Dan Ekizian was glad to see them, doubly so when he found that they were interested, not in the Detroiter VII, but in a larger, more

expensive ship. At Hazel’s insistence she and Ekizian went into his inner office alone to discuss prices. Mr. Stone let her get away with it, knowing

that his mother drove a merciless bargain. The twins and he waited outside for quite a while; presently Mr. Ekizian called his office girl in.

She came out a few minutes later, to be followed shortly by Ekizian and Hazel. “It’s all settled,” she announced, looking smug. The dealer smiled grudgingly around his cigar. “Your mother is a very smart woman, Mister Mayor.”

“Take it easy!” Roger Stone protested. “You are both mixed up in your timing. I’m no longer mayor, thank heaven – and nothing is settled yet. What are the terms?”

Ekizian glanced at Hazel, who pursed her lips. “Well, now, son,” she said slowly, “it’s like this. I’m too old a woman to fiddle around. I might die in bed, waiting for you to consider all sides of the question. So I bought it”

“You?”

“For all practical purposes. It’s a syndicate. Dan puts up the ship; I wangle the cargo – and the boys and I take the stuff out to the Asteroids for a fat profit. I’ve always wanted to be a skipper.”

Castor and Pollux had been lounging in the background, listening and watching faces. At Hazel’s announcement Pollux started to speak; Castor caught his eye and shook his head. Mr. Stone said explosively, “That’s preposterous! I won’t let you do it”

“I’m of age, son.” –

“Mr. Ekizian, you must be out of your mind.”

The dealer took his cigar and stared at the end of it. “Business is business.” “Well…at least you won’t get my boys mixed up in it That’s out!”

“Mmm. . . “ said Hazel. “Maybe. Maybe not. Let’s ask them.” “They’re not of age.”

“No. . . not quite. But suppose they went into court and asked that I be appointed their guardian?”

Mr. Stone listened to this quietly, then turned to his sons.’Cas. . . Pol . . . did you frame this with your grandmother?” Pollux answered, “No, sir.”

“Would you do what she suggests?”

Castor answered, “Now, Dad, you know we wouldn’t like to do anything like that.” “But would you do it, eh?”

“I didn’t say so, sir.”

“Hmm – “ Mr. Stone turned back. “This is pure blackmail – and I won’t stand for it. Mr. Ekizian, you knew that I came in here to bid on that ship. You knew that my mother was to bargain for it as my agent. You both knew that – but you made a deal behind my back. Now either you set that so-called deal aside and we start over – or I haul both of you down to the Better Business Bureau.

Hazel was expressionless; Mr. Ekizan examined his rings.

“There’s something in what you say, Mr. Stone. Suppose we go inside and talk it over?” “I think we had better.”

Hazel followed them in and plucked at her son’s sleeve before he had a chance to start anydung. “Roger? You really want to buy this ship?” “I do.”

She pointed to papers spread on Ekizian’s desk. “Then just sign right there and stamp your thumb.”

He picked up the papers instead. They contained no suggestion of the deal Hazel had outlined; instead they conveyed to him all right, title and interest in the vessel he had just inspected, and at a price much lower than he had been prepared to pay. He did some hasty mental arithmetic and concluded that Hazel had not only gotten the ship at scrapmetal prices but also must have bulldozed Ekizian into discounting the price by what it would have cost him to cut the ship up into pieces for salvage.

In dead silence he reached for Mr. Ekizian’s desk stylus, signed his name, then carefully affixed his thumb print. He looked up and caught his mother’s eye. “Hazel, there is no honesty in you and you’ll come to a bad end.”

She smiled. “Roger, you do say the sweetest things.”

Mr. Ekizian sighed. “As I said, Mr. Stone, your mother is a very smart woman. I offered her a partnership.”

“Then there was a deal?”

Oh, no, no, not that deal – I offered her a partnership in the lot.” “But I didn’t take it.” Hazel added. “I want elbow room.”

Roger Stone grinned and shrugged, stood up. “Well, anyway – who’s skipper now?” “You are – Captain.”

As they came out both twins said, “Dad, did you buy it?”

Hazel answered, “Don’t call him “Dad” – he prefers to be called “Captain”.” “Oh.”

“Likewise “Oh”,” Pol repeated.

Dr. Stone’s only comment was, “Yes, dear, I gave them notice on the lease.” Meade was almost incoherent; Lowell was incoherent After dinner Hazel and the twins took Meade and the baby out to see their ship; Dr. Stone – who had shown no excitement even during the Great Meteor Shower

stayed home wrth her husband. He spent the time making lists of things that must be attended to, both in the city and on the ship itself, before they could leave. He finished by making a list that read as follows:

Myself – skipper

Castor – 1st officer & pilot Meade – 2nd officer & asst. cook Hazel – chief engineer

Pollux – asst. eng. & relief pilot Edith – ship’s surgeon & cook Buster – “supercargo”

He stared at it for a while, then said softly to himself, “Something tells me this isn’t going to work.”

II – ASPECTS OF DOMESTIC ENGINEERING

Mr. Stone did not show his ship’s organisation bill to the rest of the family; he knew in his heart that the twins were coming along, but he was not ready to concede it publicly. The subject was not mentioned while they were overhauling the ship and getting it ready for space.

The twins did most of the work with Hazel supervising and their father, from time to time, arguing with her about her engineering decisions. When this happened the twins usually went ahead and did it in the way they thought it ought to be done. Neither of them had much confidence in the skill and knowledge of their elders; along with their great natural talent for mechanics and their general brilliance went a cocksure, half-baked conceit which led them to think that they knew a great deal more than they did.

This anarchistic and unstable condition came to a head over the overhaul of the intermediate injector sequence. Mr. Stone had decreed, with Hazel concurring, that all parts which could be disassembled would so be, interior surfaces inspected, tolerances checked, and gaskets replaced with new ones. The intermediate sequence in this model was at comparatively low pressure; the gasketing was of silicone-silica laminate rather than wrung metal.

Spare gaskets were not available in Luna city, but had to be ordered up from Earth; this Mr. Stone had done. But the old gaskets appeared to be in perfect condition, as Pollux pointed when they opened the sequence. “Hazel, why don’t we put these back in? They look brand new.”

His grandmother took one of the gaskets, looked it over, flexed it, and handed it back. “Lots of life left in it; that’s sure. Keep it for a spare.”

Castor said, “That wasn’t what Pol said. The new gaskets have to be flown from Rome to Pikes Peak, then jumped here. Might be three days, or it might be a week. And we can’t do another thing until we get this mess cleaned up.”

“You can work in the control room. Your father wants all new parts on everything that wears out.” “Oh, bother! Dad goes too much by the book; you’ve said so yourself.”

Hazel looked up at her grandson, bulky in his pressure suit. “Listen, runt, your father is an A-one engineer. I’m privileged to criticise him; you aren’t.”

Pollux cut in hastily, “Just a Sec, Hazel, let’s keep personalities out of this. I want your unbiased professional opinion; are those gaskets fit to put back in, or aren’t they? Cross your heart and shame the devil.”

“Well. . . I say they are fit to use. You can tell your father I said so. He ought to be here any minute now; I expect he will agree.” She straightened up. “I’ve got to go.”

Mr. Stone failed to show up when expected. The twins fiddled around, doing a little preliminarv work on the preheater. Finally Pollux said, “What time is it?”

“Past four.”

“Dad won’t show up this afternoon. Look, those gaskets are all right and, anyhow, two gets you five he’d never know the difference.” “Well – he would okay them if he saw them.”

“Hand me that wrench.”

Hazel did show up again but by then they had the sequence put back together and had opened up the preheater. She did not ask about the injector sequence but got down on her belly with a flashlight and mirror and inspected the preheater’s interior. Her frail body, although still agile as a cricket under the Moon’s weak pull, was not up to heavy work with a wrench, but her eyes were sharper – and much more experienced – than those of the twins. Presently she wiggled out. “Looks good,” she announced. “We’ll put it back together tomorrow. Let’s go see what the cook ruined tonight.” She helped them disconnect their oxygen hoses from the ship’s tank and reconnect to their back packs, then the three went down out of the ship and back to Luna City.

Dinner was monopolised by a hot argument over the next installment of The Scourge of the Spaceways. Hazel was still writing it but the entire family, with the exception of Dr. Stone, felt free to insist on their own notions of just what forms of mayhem. and violence the characters should indulge in next. It was not until his first pipe after dinner that Mr. Stone got around to inquiring about the day’s progress.

Castor explained that they were about to close up the preheater. Mr. Stone nodded. “Moving right along – good! Wait a minute; You’ll just have to tear it down again to put in the – Or did they send those gaskets out to the ship? I didn’t think they had come in yet?”

“What gaskets?” Pollux said innocently. Hazel glanced quickly at him but said nothing. “The gaskets for the intermediate injector sequence, of course.”

“Oh, those!” Pollux shrugged. “They were okay, absolutely perfect to nine decimal places – so we put ’em back in.”

“Oh, you did? That’s interesting. Tomorrow you can take them out again – and I’ll stand over you when you put the new ones in.” Castor took over. “But Dad, Hazel said they were okay!”

Roger Stone looked at his mother. “Well, Hazel?”

She hesitated. She knew that she had not been sufficiently emphatic in telling the twins that their father’s engineering instructions were to be carried out to the letter; on the other hand she had told them to check with him. Or had she? ‘The gaskets were okay, Roger. No harm done.”

He looked at her thoughtfully. “So you saw fit to change my instructions? Hazel, are you itching to be left behind?” She noted the ominously gentle tone of his voice and checked an angry reply. “No,” she said simply.

“”No” what?”

“No, Captain.”

“Not captain yet, perhaps, but that’s the general idea.” He turned to his sons. “I wonder if you two yahoos understand the nature of this situation?”

Castor bit his lip. Pollux looked at his twin, then back at his father. “Dad, you‘re the one who doesn’t understand the nature of the situation. You’re making a fuss over nothing. If it’ll give you any satisfaction, we’ll open it up again – but you’ll simply see that we were right. If you had seen those gaskets, you would have passed them.”

“Probably. Almost certainly. But a skipper’s orders as to how he wants his ship gotten ready for space are not subject to change by a dockyard mechanic – which is what you both rate at the moment. Understand me?”

“Okay, so we should have waited: Tomorrow we’ll open her up, you’ll see that we were right and we’ll close it up again.”

“Wrong. Tomorrow you will go out, open it up, and bring the old gaskets back to me. Then you will both stay right here at home until the new gaskets arrive. You can spend the time contemplating the notion that orders are meant to be carried out.”

Castor said, “Now just a minute, Dad! You’ll put us days behind.”

Pollux added, “Not to mention the hours of work you are making us waste already.” Castor: “You can’t expect us to get the ship ready if you insist on jiggling our elbows!” Pollux: “And don’t forget the money we’re saving you.”

Castor: “Right! It’s not costing you a square shilling!”

Pollux: “And yet you pull this “regulation skipper” act on us.” Castor: “Discouraging! That’s what it is!”

“Pipe down!” Without waiting for them to comply he stood up and grasped each of them by the scruff of his jacket. Luna’s one-sixth gravity permitted him to straight-arm them both; he held them high up off the floor and wide apart. They struggled helplessly, unable to reach anything.

“Listen to me,” he ordered. “Up to now I hadn’t quite decided whether to let you two wild men go along or not. But now my mind’s made up.” There was a short silence from the two, then Pollux said mournfully, “You mean we don’t go?”

“I mean you do go. You need a taste of strict ship’s discipline a durn sight more than you need to go to school; these modern schools aren’t tough enough for the likes of you. I mean to run a taut ship – prompt, cheerful obedience, on the bounce! Or I throw the book at you. Understand me? Castor?”

“Uh, yes, sir.” “Pollux?”

“Ayeaye,sir!”

“See that you remember it. Pull a fast-talk like that on me when we’re in space and I’ll stuff you down each other’s throat.” He cracked their heads together smartly and threw them away.

The next day, on the way back from the field with the old gaskets, the twins stopped for a few minutes at the city library. They spent the four days they had to wait boning up on space law. They found it rather sobering reading, particularly the part which asserted that a commanding officer in space, acting independently, may and must maintain his authority against any who might attempt to usurp or dispute it. Some of the cited cases were quite grisly. They read of a freighter captain who, in his capacity as chief magistrate, had caused a mutineer to be shoved out an airlock, there to rupture his lungs in the vacuum of space, drown in his own blood

Pollux made a face. “Grandpa,” he inquired, “how would you like to be spaced?” “No future in it. Thin stuff, vacuum. Low vitamin content”

“Maybe we had better be careful not to irritate Dad. This “captain” pose has gone to his head.”

“It’s no pose. Once we raise ship it’s legal as church on Sunday. But Dad won’t space us, no matter what we do.”

“Don’t count on it. Dad is a very tough hombre when he forgets that he’s a loving father” “Junior, you worry too much.”

“So? When you feel the pressure drop remember what I said.”

It had been early agreed that the ship could not stay the Cherub. There had been no such agreement on what the new name should be. After several noisy arguments Dr. Stone, who herself had no special preference, suggested that they place a box on the dining table into which proposed names might be placed without debate. For one week the slips accumulated; then the box was opened.

Dr. Stone wrote them down:

Dauntless Icarus

Jabberwock Susan B. Anthony

H. M. S. Pinafore Iron Duke

The Clunker Morning Star Star Wagon Tumbleweed

Go-Devil Oom Paul

Onward Viking

“One would think,” Roger grumbled, “that with all the self-declared big brains there are around this table someone would show some originality. Almost every name on the list can be found in the Big Register – half of them for ships still in commission. I move we strike out those tired, second- hand, wed-before names and consider only fresh ones.”

Hazel looked at him suspiciously. “What ones will that leave?” “Well -”

“You’ve looked them up, haven’t you? I thought I caught you sneaking a look at the slips before breakfast.” “Mother, “your allegation is immaterial, irrelevant, and unworthy of you.”

“But true. Okay; let’s have a vote. Or does someone want to make a campaign speech?”

Dr. Stone rapped on the table with her thimble. “We’ll vote. I’ve still got a medical association meeting to get to tonight.” As chairman she ruled that any name receiving less than two votes in the first round would be eliminated. Secret ballot was used; when Meade canvassed the vote, seven names had gotten one vote each, none had received two.

Roger Stone pushed back his chair. “Agreement from this family is too much to expect . I’m going to bed. Tomorrow morning I’m going to register her as the R. S. Deadlock.”

“Daddy, you wouldn’t!” Meade protested.

“Just watch me. The R. S. Hair Shirt might be better. Or the R. S. Madhouse.” “Not bad,” agreed Hazel. “It sounds like us. Never a dull moment.”

“I, for one,” retorted her son, “could stand a little decent monotony.” “Rubbish! We thrive on trouble. Do you want to get covered with moss?” “What’s “moss”, Grandma Hazell?” Lowell demanded.

“Huh? It’s. . . well, it’s what rolling stones don’t gather.”

Roger snapped his fingers. “Hazel, you’ve just named the ship.” “Eh? Come again.”

“The Rolling Stones. No, the Rolling Stone.”

Dr. Stone glanced up. “I like that, Roger.” “Meade?”

“Sounds good, Daddy.” “Hazel?”

“This is one of your brighter days, son.”

“Stripped of the implied insult, I take it that means “yes.”“

“I don’t like it,” objected Pollux. “Castor and I plan to gather quite a bit of moss.”

“It’s four to three, even if you get Buster to go along with you and your accomplice. Overruled. The Roiling Stone it is.”

Despite their great sizes and tremendous power spaceships are surprisingly simple machines. Every technology goes through three stages: first, a crudely simple and quite unsatisfactory gadget; second, an enormously complicated group of gadgets designed to overcome the shortcomings of the original and achieving thereby somewhat satisfactory performance through extremely complex compromise; third, a final stage of smooth simplicity and efficient performance based on correct under-standing of natural laws and proper design therefrom.

In transportation, the ox cart and the rowboat represent the first stage of technology.

The second stage might well be represented by the automobiles of the middle twentieth century just before the opening of interplanetary travel. These unbelievable museum pieces were for the time fast, sleek and powerful -. but inside their skins were assembled a preposterous collection of mechanical buffoonery. The prime mover for such a juggernaut might have rested in one’s lap; the rest of the mad assembly consisted of afterthoughts intended to correct the uncorrectable, to repair the original basic mistake in design – for automobiles and even the early aeroplanes were ‘powered’ (if one may call it that) by ‘reciprocating engines.”

A reciprocating engine was a collection of miniature heat engines using (in a basically inefficient cycle) a small percentage of an exothermic chemical reaction, a reaction which was started and stopped every split second. Much of the heat was intentionally thrown away into a ‘water jacket’ or ‘cooling system,” then wasted into the atmosphere through a heat exchanger.

What little was left caused blocks of metal to thump foolishly back-and-forth (hence the name ‘reciprocating’) and thence through a linkage to cause a shaft and flywheel to spin around. The flywheel (believe it if you can) had no gyroscopic function; it was used to store kinetic energy in a futile attempt to cover up the sins of reciprocation. The shaft at long last caused wheels to turn and thereby propelled this pile of junk over the countryside.

The prime mover was used only to accelerate and to overcome ‘friction’ – a concept then in much wider engineering use. To decelerate, stop, or turn the heroic human operator used their own muscle power, multiplied precariously through a series of levers.

Despite the name ‘automobile’ these vehicles had no autocontrol circuits; control, such as it was, was exercised second by second for hours on end by a human being peering out through a small pane of dirty silica glass, and judging unassisted and often disastrously his own motion and those of other objects. In almost all cases the operator had no notion of the kinetic energy stored in his missile and could not have written the basic equation. Newton’s Laws of Motion were to him mysteries as profound as the meaning of the universe.

Nevertheless millions of these mechanical jokes swarmed over our home planet, dodging each other by inches or failing to dodge. None of them ever worked right; by their nature they could not work right; and they were constantly getting out of order. Their operators were usually mightily pleased when they worked at all. When they did not, which was every few hundred miles (hundred, not hundred thousand) they hired a member of a social class of arcane specialists to make inadequate and always expensive temporary repairs.

Despite their mad shortcomings, these ‘automobiles’ were the most characteristic form of wealth and the most cherished possessions of their time. Three whole generations were slaves to them.

The Rolling Stone was the third stage of technology. Her power plant was nearly 100% efficient, and, save for her gyro-scopes, she contained almost no moving parts – the power plant used no moving parts at all; a rocket engine is the simplest of all possible heat engines. Castor and Pollux might have found themselves baffled by the legendary Model-T Ford automobile, but the Roiling Stone was not nearly that complex, she was

merely much larger. Many of the fittings they had to handle were very massive, but the Moon’s one-sixth gravity was an enormous advantage; only occasionally did they have to resort to handling equipment.

Having to wear a vacuum suit while doing mechanic’s work was a handicap but they were not conscious of it. They had worn space suits whenever they were outside the pressurised underground city since before they could remember; they worked in them and wore them without thinking about them, as their grandfather had worn overalls. They conducted the entire overhaul without pressurising the ship because it was such a nuisance to have to be forever cycling an airlock, dressing and undressing, whenever they wanted anything outside the ship.

An IBM company representative from the city installed the new ballistic computer and ran it in, but after he had gone the boys took it apart and checked it throughout themselves, being darkly suspicious of any up-check given by a manufacturer’s employee. The ballistic computer of a space ship has to be right; without perfect performance from it a ship is a mad robot, certain to crash and kill its passengers. The new computer was of the standard ‘I-tell-you-three-times’ variety, a triple brain each third of which was capable of solving the whole problem; if one triplet failed, the other two would out-vote it and cut it off from action, permitting thereby at least one perfect landing and a chance to correct the failure.

The twins made personally sure that the multiple brain was sane in all its three lobes, then, to their disgust, their father and grandmother checked everything that they had done.

The last casting had been x-rayed, the last metallurgical report had been received from the spaceport laboratories, the last piece of tubing had been reinstalled and pressure tested; it was time to move the Rolling Stone from Dan Ekizian’s lot to the port, where a technician of the Atomic Energy Commission – a grease monkey with a Ph.D – would install and seal the radioactive bricks which fired her ‘boiler.” There, too, she would take on supplies and reactive mass, stablised mon-atomic hydrogen; in a pinch the Rolling Stone could eat anything, but she performed best on ‘single-H.”

The night before the ship was to be towed to the spaceport the twins tackled their father on a subject dear to their hearts – money. Castor made an indirect approach. “See here, Dad, we want to talk with you seriously.”

“So? Wait till I phone my lawyer.”

“Aw, Dad! Look, we just want to know whether or not you’ve made up your mind where we are going?”

“Eh? What do you care? I’ve already promised you that it will be some place new to you. We won’t go to Earth, nor to Venus, not this trip.” “Yes, but where?”

“I may just close my eyes, set up a prob on the computer by touch, and see what happens. If the prediction takes us close to any rock bigger than the ship, we’ll scoot off and have a look at it. That’s the way to enjoy travelling.”

Pollux said, “But, Dad, you can’t load a ship if you don’t know where it’s going.”

Castor glared at him; Roger Stone stared at him. “Oh,” he said slowly, “I begin to see. But don’t worry about it. As skipper, it is my responsibility to see that we have whatever we need aboard before we blast.”

Dr. Stone said quietly, “Don’t tease them, Roger.” “I’m not teasing.”

“You’re managing to tease me, Daddy,” Meade said suddenly. “Let’s settle it. I vote for Mars.” Hazel said, “The deuce it ain’t!”

“Pipe down, Mother. Time was, when the senior male member of a family spoke, everybody did what he -” “Roger, if you think I am going to roll over and play dead-”

“I said, “pipe down.” But everybody in this family thinks it’s funny to try to get around Pop. Meade sweet-talks me. The twins fast-talk me. Buster yells until he gets what he wants. Hazel bullies me and pulls seniority.” He looked at his wife. “You, too, Edith. You give in until you get your own way.”

“Yes, dear.”

“See what I mean? You all think papa is a schnook. But I’m not. I’ve got a soft head, a pliable nature, and probably the lowest I.Q. in the family, but this clambake is going to be run to suit me.”

“What’s a clambake?” Lowell wanted to know. “Keep your child quiet, Edith.”

“Yes, dear.”

“I’m going on a picnic, a wanderjahr. Anyone who wants to come along is invited. But I refuse to deviate by as much as a million miles from whatever trajectory suits me. I bought this ship from money earned in spite of the combined opposition of my whole family; I did not touch one thin credit of the money I hold in trust for our two young robber barons – and I don’t propose to let them run the show.”

Dr. Stone said quietly, “They merely asked where we were going. I would like to know, too.” “So they did. But why? Castor, you want to know so that you can figure a cargo, don’t you?”

“Well – yes. Anything wrong with that? Unless we know what market we’re taking it to, we won’t know what to stock.” “True enough. But I don’t recall authorising any such commercial ventures. The Rolling Stone is a family yacht.” Pollux cut in with, “For the love of Pete, Dad! With all that cargo space just going to waste, you’d think that -”

“An empty hold gives us more cruising range.” “But -”

“Take it easy. This subject is tabled for the moment. What do you two propose to do about your education?”

Castor said, “I thought that was settled. You said we could go along.”

“That part is settled. But we’ll be coming back this way in a year or two. Are you prepared to go down to Earth to school then – and stay there – until you get your degrees?”

The twins looked at each other; neither one of them said anything. Hazel butted in: “Quit being so offensively orthodox, Roger. I’ll take over their education. I’ll give them the straight data. What they taught me in school darn near ruined me, before I got wise and started teaching myself.”

Roger Stone looked bleakly at his mother. “You would teach them, all right. No, thanks, I prefer a somewhat more normal approach.” “”Normal!” Roger, that’s a word with no meaning.”

“Perhaps not, around here. But I’d like the twins to grow up as near normal as possible.”

“Roger, have you ever met any normal people? I never have. The so-called normal man is a figment of the imagination; every member of the human race, from Jojo the cave man right down to that final culmination of civilisation, namely me, has been as eccentric as a pet coon – once you caught him with his mask off.”

“I won’t dispute the part about yourself.”

“It’s true for everybody. You try to make the twins “normal” and you’ll simply stunt their growth.” Roger Stone stood up. “That’s enough. Castor, Pollux – come with me. Excuse us, everybody.” “Yes, dear.”

“Sissy,” said Hazel. “I was just warming up to my rebuttal.” He led them into his study, closed the door. “Sit down.”

The twins did so. “Now we can settle this quietly. Boys, I’m quite serious about your education. You can do what you like with your lives – turn pirate or get elected to the Grand Council. But I won’t let you grow up ignorant.”

Castor answered, “Sure, Dad, but we do study. We study all the time. You’ve said yourself that we are better engineers than half the young snots that come up from Earth.”

“Granted. But it’s not enough. Oh, you can learn most things on your own but I want you to have a formal, disciplined, really sound grounding in mathematics.”

“Huh? Why, we cut our teeth on differential equations!”

Pollux added, “We know Hudson’s Manual by heart We can do a triple integration in our heads faster than Hazel can. If there’s one thing we do

know, it’s mathematics.”

Roger Stone shook his head sadly. “You can count on your fingers but you can’t reason. You probably think that the interval from zero to one is the same as the interval from ninety-nine to one hundred.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Is it? If so, can you prove it?” Their father reached up to the spindles on the wall, took down a book spool, and inserted it in the to his study projector. He spun the selector, stopped with a page displayed on the wall screen. It was a condensed chart of fields of mathematics invented, thus far by the human mind. “Let’s see you find your way around that page.”

The twins blinked at it. In the upper left-hand corner of the chart they spotted the names of subjects they had studied; the rest of the array was unknown territory; in most cases they did not even recognise the names of the subjects. In the ordinary engineering forms of the calculus they actually were adept; they had not been boasting. They knew enough of vector analysis to find their way around unassisted in electrical engineering and electronics; they knew classical geometry and trigonometry well enough for the astrogating of a space ship, and they had had enough of non- Euclidean geometry, tensor calculus, statistical mechanics, and quantum theory to get along with an atomic power plant

But it had never occurred to them that they had not yet really penetrated the enormous and magnificent field of mathematics. “Dad,” asked Pollux in a small voice, “what’s a “hyperideal”?”

“Time you found out.”

Castor looked quickly at his father. “How many of these things have you studied, Dad?” “Not enough. Not nearly enough. But my sons should know more than I do.”

It was agreed that the twins would study mathematics intensively the entire time the family was in space, and not simply under the casual supervision of their father and grandmother but formally and systematically through I.C.S. correspondence courses ordered up from Earth. They

would take with them spools enough to keep them busy for at least a year and mail their completed lessons from any port they might touch. Mr.

Stone was satisfied, being sure in his heart that any person skilled with mathematical tools could learn anything else he needed to know, with or without a master.

“Now, boys, about this matter of cargo-”

The twins waited; he went on: “I’ll lift the stuff for you -” “Gee, Dad, that’s swell!”

“- at cost.”

“You figure it and I’ll check your figures. Don’t try to flummox me or I’ll stick on a penalty. If you’re going to be businessmen, don’t confuse the vocation with larceny.”

“Right, sir. Uh. . . we still can’t order until we know where we are going.” “True. Well, how would Mars suit you, as the first stop?”

“Mars?” Both boys got far-away looks in their eyes; their lips moved soundlessly. “Well? Quit figuring your profits; you aren’t there yet”

“Mars? Mars is fine, Dad!”

“Very well. One more thing: fail to keep up your studies and I won’t let you sell a tin whistle.”

“Oh, we’ll study!” The twins ‘got out while they were ahead. Roger Stone looked at the closed door with a fond smile on his face, an expression he rarely let them see, Good boys! Thank heaven he hadn’t been saddled with a couple of obedient, well-behaved little nincompoops!

When the twins reached their own room Castor got down the general catalog of Four Planets Export. Pollux said, “Cas?” “Don’t bother me.”

“Have you ever noticed that Dad always gets pushed around until he gets his own way?” “Sure. Hand me that slide rule.”

III – BICYCLES AND BLAST-OFF

The Rolling Stone was moved over to the spaceport by the port’s handling & spotting crew – over the protests of the twins, who wanted to rent a tractor and dolly and do it themselves. They offered to do so at half price, said price to be applied against freightage on their trade goods to Mars.

“Insurance?” inquired their father. “Well, not exactly,” Pol answered.

“W’e’d carry our own risk,” added Castor. “After all, we’ve got assets to cover it.”

But Roger Stone was not to be talked into it; he preferred, not unreasonably, to have the ticklish job done by bonded professionals. A spaceship on the ground is about as helpless and unwieldly as a beached whale. Sitting on her tail fins with her bow pointed at the sky and with her gyros dead a ship’s precarious balance is protected by her lateral jacks, slanting down in three directions. To drag her to a new position requires those jacks to be raised clear of the ground, leaving the ship ready to topple, vulnerable to any jar. The Rolling Stone had to be moved thus through a pass in the hills to the port ten miles away. First she was jacked higher until her fins were two feet off the ground, then a broad dolly was backed under her; to this she was clamped. The bottom handler ran the tractor; the top handler took position in the control room. With his eyes on a bubble level, his helmet hooked by wire phone to his mate, he nursed a control stick which let him keep the ship upright. A hydraulic mercury capsule was under each fin of the ship; by tilting the stick the top handler could force pressure into any capsule to offset any slight irregularity in the road.

The twins followed the top handler up to his station. “Looks easy,” remarked Pol while the handler tested his gear with the jack still down.

“It is easy,” agreed the handler, “provided you can out-guess the old girl and do the opposite of what she does – only do it first. Get out now; we’re ready to start.”

“Look, Mister,” said Castor, we want to learn how. We’ll hold still and keep quiet.”

“Not even strapped down – you might twitch an eyebrow and throw me half a degree off.” “Well, for the love of Pete!” complained Pollux. “Whose ship do you think this is?”

“Mine, for the time being,” the man answered without rancor. “Now do you prefer to climb down, or simply be kicked clear of the ladder?”

The twins climbed out and clear, reluctantly but promptly. The Rolling Stone, designed for the meteoric speeds of open space, took off for the spaceport at a lively two miles an hour. It took most of a Greenwich day to get her there. There was a bad time in the pass when a slight moonquake set her to rocking, but the top handler had kept her jacks lowered as far as the terrain permitted. She bounced once on number-two jack, then he caught her and she resumed her stately progress.

Seeing this, Pollux admitted to Castor that he was glad they had not gotten the contract. He was beginning to realise that this was an estoric skill, like glassblowing or chipping flint arrowheads. He recalled stories of the Big Quake of ’31 when nine ships had toppled.

No more temblors were experienced save for the microscopic shivers Luna continually experiences under the massive tidal strains of her eighty- times-heavier cousin Terra. The Rolling Stone rested at last on a launching flat on the east side of Leyport, her jet pointed down into splash baffles. Fuel bricks, water, and food, and she was ready to go – anywhere.

The mythical average man needs three and a half pounds of food each day, four pounds of water (for drinking, not washing), and thirty-four pounds of air. By the orbit most economical of fuel, the trip to Mars from the Earth-Moon system takes thirty-seven weeks. Thus it would appear that the seven rolling Stones would require some seventy-five thousand pounds of consumable supplies for the trip, or about a ton a week.

Fortunately the truth was brighter or they would never have raised ground. Air and water in a space ship can be used over and over again with suitable refreshing, just as they can be on a planet. Uncounted trillions of animals for uncounted millions of years have breathed the air of Terra and drunk of her streams, yet air of Earth is still fresh and her rivers still run full. The Sun sucks clouds up from the ocean brine and drops it as sweet rain; the plants swarming over the cool green hills and lovely plains of Earth take the carbon dioxide of animal exhalation from the winds and convert it into carbohydrates, replacing it with fresh oxygen.

With suitable engineering a spaceship can be made to behave in the same way.

Water is distilled; with a universe of vacuum around the ship, low-temperature, low-pressure distillation is cheap and easy. Water is no problem – or, rather, shortage of water is no problem. The trick is to get rid of excess, for the human body creates water as one of the by-prodncts of its metabolism, in ‘burning’ the hydrogen in food. Carbon dioxide can be replaced by oxygen through ‘soilless’ gardening’ – hydroponics. Short-jump ships, such as the Earth-Moon shuttles, do not have such equipment, any more than a bicycle has staterooms or a galley, but the Rolling Stone, being a deep-space vessel, was equipped to do these things.

Instead of forty-one and a half pounds of supplies per person per day the Rolling Stone could get along with two; as a margin of safety and for luxury she carried about three, or a total of about eight tons, which included personal belongings. They would grow their own vegetables en route; most foods carried along would be dehydrated. Meade wanted them to carry shell eggs, but she was overruled both by the laws of physics and her mother – dried eggs weigh so very much less.

Baggage included a tossed salad of books as well as hundreds of the more usual flim spools. The entire family, save the twins tended to be old-

fashioned about books; they liked books with covers, volumes one could hold in the lap. Film spools were not quite the same.

Roger Stone required his sons to submit lists of what they proposed to carry to Mars for trade. The first list thus submitted caused him to call them into conference. “Castor, would you mind explaining this proposed manifest to me?”

“Huh? What is there to explain? Pol wrote it up. I thought it was clear enough.” “I’m afraid it’s entirely too clear. Why all this copper tubing?”

“Well, we picked it up as scrap. Always a good market for copper on Mass.” “You mean you’ve already bought it?”

“Oh, no. We just put down a little to hold it.” “Same for the valves and fittings I suppose?” “Yes, sir.”

“That’s good. Now these other items – cane sugar, wheat, dehydrated potatoes, polished rice. How about those?” Pollux answered. “Cas thought we ought to buy hardware; I favored foodstuffs. So compromised.”

“Why did you pick the foods you did?”

“Well, they’re all things they grow in the city’s air-conditioning tanks, so they’re cheap. No Earth imports on the list, you noticed.” “I noticed.”

“But most of the stuff we raise here carries too high a percentage of water. You wouldn’t want to carry cucumbers to Mars, would you?” “I don’t want to carry anything to Mars; I’m just going for the ride.” Mr. Stone put down the cargo list, picked up another. “Take a look at this.” Pollux accepted it gingerly. “What about it?”

“I used to be a pretty fair mechanic myself. I got to wondering just what one could build from the ‘hardware’ you two want to ship. I figure I could build a fair-sized still. With the “foodstuffs” you want to take a man would be in a position to make anything from vodka to grain alcohol. But I don’t suppose you two young innocents noticed that?”

Castor looked at the list. “Is that so?”

“Hmm – Tell me: did you plan to sell this stuff to the government import agency, or peddle it on the open market?” “Well, Dad, you know you can’t make much profit unless you deal on the open market.”

“So I thought. You didn’t expect me to notice what the stuff was good for – and you didn’t expect the customs agents on Mars to notice, either.” He looked them over. “Boys, I intend to try to keep you out of prison until you are of age. After that I’ll try to come to see you. each visiting day.” He chucked the list back at them. “Guess again. And bear in mind that we raise ship Thursday – and that I don’t care whether we carry cargo or not.”

Pollux said, “Oh, for pity’s sake, Dad! Abraham Lincoln used to sell whiskey. They taught us that in history. And Winston Churchill used to drink it.” “And George Washington kept slaves,” his father agreed. “None of which has anything to do with you two. So scram!”

They left his study and passed through the living room; Hazel was there. She cocked a brow at them. “Did you get away with it?” “No.”

She stuck out a hand, palm up. “Pay me. And next time don’t bet that you can outsmart your Pop. He’s my boy.”

Cas and Pol settled on bicycles as their primary article of export. On both Mars and Luna prospecting by bicycle was much more efficient than prospecting on foot; on the Moon the old-style rock sleuth with nothing but his skis and Shank’s ponies to enable him to scout the area where he had landed his jumpbug had almost disappeared; all the prospectors took bicycles along as a matter of course, just as they carried climbing ropes and spare oxygen. In the Moon’s one-sixth gravity it was an easy matter to shift the bicycles to one’s back and carry it over any obstacle to further progress.

Mars’ surface gravity is more than twice that of Luna, but it is still only slightly more than one-third Earth normal, and Mars is a place of flat plains and very gentle slopes; a cyclist could maintain fifteen to twenty miles an hour. The solitary prospector, deprived of his traditional burro, found the bicycle an acceptable and reliable, if somewhat less congenial, substitute. A miner’s bike would have looked odd in the streets of Stockholm; over- sized wheels, doughnut sand tires, towing yoke and trailer, battery trickle charger, two-way radio, saddle bags, and Geiger-counter mount made it not the vehicle for a spin in the perk – but on Mars or on the Moon it fitted its purpose the way a canoe fits a Canadian stream.

Both planets imported their bicycles from Earth – until recently. Lunar Steel Products Corporation had lately begun making steel tubing, wire, and extrusions from native ore; Sears & Montgomery had subsidised an assembly plant to manufacture miner’s bikes on the Moon under the trade

name ‘Lunocycle’ and Looney bikes, using less than twenty per cent. by weight of parts raised up from Earth, undersold imported bikes by half.

Castor and Pollux decided to buy up second-hand bicycles which were consequently flooding the market and ship them to Mars. In interplanetary trade cost is always a matter of where a thing is gravity-wise – not how far away. Earth is a lovely planet but all her products lie at the bottom of a very deep ‘gravity well,” deeper than that of Venus, enormously deeper than Luna’s. Although Earth and Luna average exactly the same distance from Mars in miles, Luna is about five miles per second ‘closer’ to Mars in terms of fuel and shipping cost.

Roger Stone released just enough of their assets to cover the investment. They were still loading their collection of tired bikes late Wednesday afternoon, with Cas weighing them in, Meade recording for him, and Pol hoisting. Everything else had been loaded; trial weight with the crew aboard would be taken by the port weightmaster as soon as the bicycles were loaded Roger Stone supervised the stowing, he being personally responsible for the ship being balanced on take off.

Castor and he went down to help Pol unload the last flat. “Some of these seem hardly worth shipping,” Mr. Stone remarked. “Junk, if you ask me,” added Meade.

“Nobody asked you,” Pol told her.

“Keep a civil tongue in your head,” Meade answered sweetly, “or go find yourself another secretary.”

“Stow it, Junior,” admonished Castor. “Remember she’s working free. Dad, I admit they aren’t much to look at, but wait a bit. Pol and I will overhaul them and paint them in orbit. Plenty of time to do a good job – like new.”

“Mind you don’t try to pass them off as new. But it looks to me as if you had taken too big a bite. When we get these inside and clamped down, there won’t be room enough in the hold to swing a cat, much less do repair work. If you were thinking of monopolising the living space, consider it vetoed.”

“Why would anyone want to swing a cat?” asked Meade. “The cat wouldn’t like it. Speaking of that, why don’t we take a cat?” “No cats,” her father replied. “I travelled with a cat once and I was in executive charge of its sand box. No cats.”

“Please, Cap’n Daddy! I saw the prettiest little kitten over at the Haileys’ yesterday and -”

“No cats. And don’t call me “Captain Daddy.” One or the other, but the combination sounds silly.” “Yes, Captain Daddy.”

“We weren’t planning on using the living quarters.” Castor answered. “Once we are in orbit we’ll string ’em outside and set up shop in the hold. Plenty of room.”

A goodly portion of Luna City came out to see them off. The current mayor, the Honorable Thomas Beasley, was there to say good-by to Roger Stone; the few surviving members of the Founding Fathers turned out to honor Hazel. A delegation from the Junior League and what appeared to be approximately half of the male members of the senior class of City Tech showed up to mourn Meade’s departure. She wept and hugged them all, but kissed none of them; kissing while wearing a space suit is a futile, low-caloric business.

The twins were attended only by a dealer who wanted his payment and wanted it now and wanted it in full.

Earth hung in half phase over them and long shadows of the Obelisk Mountains stretched over most of the field. The base of the Rolling Stone was floodlighted; her slender bow thrust high above the circle of brightness. Beyond her, masking the far side of the field, the peaks of Rodger Young Range were still shining in the light of the setting Sun. Glorious Orion glittered near Earth; north and east of it, handle touching the horizon, was the homely beauty of the Big Dipper. The arching depth of sky and the mighty and timeless monuments of the Moon dwarfed the helmeted, squatty figures at the base of the spaceship.

A searchlight on the distant control tower pointed at them; blinked red three times. Hazel turned to her son. “Thirty minutes, Captain.”

“Right.” He whistled into his microphone. “Silence, everyone! Please keep operational silence until you are underground Thanks for coming, everybody. Good-by!”

“Bye, Rog!” “Good trip, folks!” “Aloha!”

“Hurry back”

Their friends started filing down a ramp mto one of the field tunnels; Mr. Stone turned to his family. “Thirty minutes. Man the ship!” “Aye aye, sir.”

Hazel started up the ladder with Pollux after her. She stopped suddenly, backed down and stepped on his fingers. “Out of my way, youngster!” She jumped down and ran toward the group disappearing down the ramp. “Hey, Tom! Beasley! Wait! Half a mo-”

The mayor paused and turned around; she thrust a package into his hand. “Mail this stuff for me?” “Certainly, Hazel.”

“That’s a good boy. ‘Bye!”

She came back to the ship; her son inquired, “What was the sudden crisis, Hazel?”

“Six episodes. I stay up all night getting them ready. . . then I didn’t even notice I still had ’em until I had trouble climbing with one hand.” “Sure your head’s on tight?”

“None of your lip, boy.” “Get in the ship.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

Once they were all inboard the port’s weightmaster made his final check, reading the scales on the launching flat under each fin, adding them together. “Two and seven-tenths pounds under, Captain. Pretty close figuring.” He fastened trim weights in that amount to the foot of the ladder. “Take it up.”

“Thank you, sir.” Roger Stone hauled up the ladder, gathered in the trim weights, and closed the door of the air lock. He let himself into the ship proper, closed and dogged the inner door behind him, then stuck his head up into the control room. Castor was already in the co-pilot’s couch. “Time?”

“Minus seventeen minutes, Captain.”

“She tracking?” He reached out and set the trim weights on a spindle at the central axis of the ship.

“Pretty as could be.” The main problem and the exact second of departure had been figured three weeks earlier; there is only one short period every twenty-six months when a ship may leave the Luna-Terra system for Mars by the most economical orbit. After trial weight had been taken the day before Captain Stone had figured his secondary problem, i.e., how much thrust for how long a period was required to put this particular ship into that orbit. It was the answer to this second problem which Castor was now tracking in the automatic pilot.

The first leg of the orbit would not be towards Mars but toward Earth, with a second critical period, as touchy as the take off, as they rounded Earth. Captain Stone frowned at the thought, then shrugged; that worry had to come later. “Keep her tracking. I’m going below.”

He went down into the power room, his eyes glancing here and there as he went. Even to a merchant skipper, to whom it is routine, the last few minutes before blast-off are worry making. Blast-off for a spaceship has a parachute-jump quality; once you jump it is usually too late to correct any oversights. Space skippers suffer nightmares about misplaced decimal points.

Hazel and Pollux occupied the couches of the chief and assistant. Stone stuck his head down without going down. “Power Room?” “She’ll be ready. I’m letting her warm slowly.”

Dr. Stone, Meade, and Buster were riding out the lift in the bunkroom, for company; he stuck his head in. “Everybody okay?”

His wife looked up from her couch. “Certainly, dear. Lowell has had his injection.” Buster was stretched out on his back, strapped down and sleeping. He alone had never experienced acceleration thrust and free falling; his mother had decided to drug him lest he be frightened.

Roger Stone looked at his least son. “I envy him.” Meade sat up. “Head pretty bad, Daddy?”

“I’ll live. But today I regard farewell parties as much overrated affairs, especially for the guest of honor.” The horn over his head said in Castor’s voice, “Want me to boost her, Dad? I feel fine.”

“Mind your own business, co-pilot. She still tracking?” “Tracking, sir. Eleven minutes.”

Hazel’s voice came out of the horn. ” ‘The wages of sin are death’.”

“Look who’s talking! No more unauthorised chatter over the intercom. That’s an order.” “Aye aye, Captain.”

He started to leave; his wife stopped him. “I want you to take this, dear.” She held out a capsule. “I don’t need it.”

“Take it.”

“Yes, Doctor darling.” He swallowed it, made a face, and went up to the control room. As he climbed into his couch he said, “Call tower for clearance.”

“Aye aye, sir. Rolling Stone, Luna City registry, to Tower – request clearance to lift according to approved plan.” “Tower to Rolling Stone – you are cleared to lift”

“Rolling Stone to Tower – roger!” Castor answered. Captain Stone looked over his board. All green, except one red light from power room which would not wink green until he told his mother to unlock the safety on the cadmium damper plates. He adjusted the microvernier on his tracking indicator, satisfied himself that the auto-pilot was tracking to perfection as Castor had reported. “All stations, report in succession -power room !”

“She’s sizzling, Skipper!” came back Hazel’s reply. “Passengers!”

“We’re ready, Roger.” “Co-pilot!”

“Clear and green, sir! Check off completed. Five minutes.” “Strap down and report!”

“Power gang strapped.” – “We’re strapped, dear.” – “Strapped, sir all stations.” “Power room, unlock for lift.”

The last red light on his board winked green as Hazel reported, “Power board unlocked, Skipper. Ready to blast.” Another voice followed hers, more softly: “Now I lay me down to sleep -”

“Shut up, Meade!” Roger Stone snapped. “Co-pilot, commence the count!”

Castor started singsonging: “Minus two minutes ten. . . minus two minutes. . . minus one minute fifty. . . minus one minute forty -”

Roger Stone felt his blood begin to pound and wished heartily that he had had the sense to come home early, even if the party had been in his honor.

“Minus one minute!. . . minus fifty-five. . . minus fifty -”

He braced his right hand with his forefinger over the manual firing key, ready to blast if the auto-pilot should fail – then quickly took it away. This was no military vessel! If it failed to fire, the thing to do was to cancel – not risk his wife and kids with imperfect machinery. After all, he held only a private license – “Minus thirty-five. . . half minute!”

His head felt worse. Why leave a warm apartment to bounce around in a tin covered wagon? “Twenty-eight, twenty–sev‘n, twenty-six -”

Well, if anything went wrong, at least there wouldn’t be any little orphans left around. The whole Stone family was here, root and branch. The rolling Stones –

“Nineteen. . . eighteen. . . seventeen -,

He didn’t fancy going back and meeting all those people who had just come out to say good-by – telling them, “It’s like this: we swung and we missed -”

“Twelve! Eleven! and ten! and nine! “

He again placed his forefinger over the manual button, ready to stab. “And five!

“And four!

“And three! “And two!

“And – “ Castor’s chant was blanked out by the blazing ‘white noise’ of the jet; the Rolling Stone cast herself into the void.

– BALLISIICS AND BUSTER

Blasting off from Luna is not the terrifying and oppressive experience that a lift from Earth is. The Moon’s field is so weak, her gravity well so shallow, that a boost of one-g would suffice – just enough to produce Earth-normal weight.

Captain Stone chose to use two gravities, both to save time and to save fuel by getting quickly away from Luna – “quickly’ because any reactive mass spent simply to hold a spaceship up against the pull of a planet is an ‘overhead’ cost; it does nothing toward getting one where one wants to go. Furthermore, while the Rolling Stone would operate at low thrust she could do so only by being very wasteful of reactive mass, i.e., by not letting the atomic pile heat the hydrogen hot enough to produce a really efficient jet speed.

So he caused the Stone to boost at two gravities for slightly over two minutes. Two gravities – a mere nothing! The pressure felt by a wrestler pinned to the mat by the body of his opponent – the acceleration experienced by a child in a school-yard swing – hardly more than the push resulting from standing up very suddenly.

But the Stone family had been living on Luna; all the children had been born there – two gravities was twelve times what they were used to.

Roger’s headache, which had quieted under the sedative his wife had prescribed for him, broke out again with renewed strength. His chest felt caved in; he fought for breath and he had to read and reread the accelerometer to convince himself that the ship had not run wild.

After checking over his board and assuring himself that all was going according to plan even if it did feel like a major catastrophe he turned his head heavily. “Cas? You all right?”

Castor gasped, “Sure Skipper . . . tracking to flight plan.

“Very well, sir.” He turned his face to his inter-com link. “Edith -” There was no answer. “Edith“

This time a strained voice replied, “Yes, dear.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, dear. Meade and I. . . are all right. The baby is having a bad time.”

He was about to call the power room when Castor reminded him of the passage of time. “Twenty seconds! Nineteen! Eighteen -”

He tumed his eyes to the brennschluss timer and poised his hand on the cut-off switch, ready to choke the jet if the autopilot should fail. Across from him Castor covered him should he fail; below in the power room Hazel was doing the same thing, hand trembling over the cut-off.

As the timer flashed the last half second, as Castor shouted, “Brennschluss!”, three hands slammed at three switches – but the autopilot had beaten them to it. The jet gasped as its liquid food was suddenly cut off from it; damper plates quenched the seeking neutrons in the atomic pile – and the Stone was in free orbit, falling toward Earth in a sudden, aching silence broken only by the whispering of the airconditioner.

Roger Stone reswallowed his stomach, “Power room!” he rasped. “Report!”

He could hear Hazel sighing heavily. “Okay, son,” she said feebly, “but mind that top step – it’s a dilly!” “Cas, call the port. Get a doppler check.”

“Aye aye, sir.” Castor called the radar & doppler station at Leyport. The Rolling Stone had all the usual radar and piloting instruments but a spaceship cannot possibly carry equipment of the size and accuracy of those mounted as pilot aids at all ports and satellite stations. “Rolling Stone to Luna Pilot – come in, Luna Pilot.” While he called he was warming up their own radar and doppler-radar, preparing to check the performance of their own instruments against the land-based standards. He did this without being told, it being a co-pilot’s routine duty.

“Luna Pilot to Rolling Stone.”

“Rolling Stone to Luna Pilot – request range, bearing and separation rate, and flight plan deviations, today’s flight fourteen – plan as field; no variations.”

“We’re on you. Stand by to record.”

“Standing by,” answered Castor and flipped the switch on the recorder. They were still so close to the Moon that the speed-of-light lag in transmission was unnoticeable.

A bored voice read off the reference time to the nearest half second, gave the double co-ordinates of their bearing in terms of system standard – corrected back to where the Moon had been at their blast-off – then gave their speed and distance relative to Luna with those figures also corrected back to where the Moon had been. The corrections were comparatively small since the Moon ambles along at less than two-thirds of a mile per second, but the corrections were utterly necessary. A pilot who disregarded them would find himself fetching up thousands or even millions of miles from his destination.

The operator added, “Deviation from flight plan negligible. A very pretty departure, Rolling Stone.”

Castor thanked him and signed off. “In the groove, Dad!” “Good. Did you get our own readings?”

“Yes, sir. About seven seconds later than theirs.”

“Okay. Run ’em back on the flight line and apply the vectors. I want a check.” He looked more closely at his son; Castor’s complexion was a delicate chartreuse. “Say, didn’t you take your pills?”

“Uh, yes, sir. It always hits me this way at first. I’ll be all right.” “You look like a week-old corpse.”

“You don’t look so hot yourself, Dad.”

“I don’t feel so hot, just between us. Can you work that prob, or do you want to sack in for a while?” “Sure I can!”

“Well. . . mind your decimal places.” “Aye aye, Captain.”

“I’m going aft.” He started to unstrap, saying into the intercom as he did so, “All hands, unstrap at will. Power room, secure the pile and lock your board.”

Hazel answered, “I heard the flight report, Skipper. Power room secured.” “Don’t anticipate my orders, Hazel – unless you want to walk back.”

She answered, “I expressed myself poorly, Captain. What I mean to say is, we are now securing the power room, as per your orders, sir. There – it’s done. Power room secured!”

“Very well, Chief.” He smiled grimly, having noted by the tell tales on his own board that the first report was the correct one; she had secured as soon as she had known they were in the groove. Just as he had feared: playing skipper to a crew of rugged individualists was not going to be a picnic. He grasped the centre stanchion, twisted around so that he faced aft and floated through the hatch into the living quarters.

He wiggled into the bunkroom and checked himself by a handhold. His wife, daughter, and least child were all unstrapped. Dr. Stone was manipulating the child’s chest and stomach. He could not see just what she was doing but it was evident that Lowell had become violently nauseated – Meade, glassy-eyed herself, was steadying herself with one hand and trying to clean up the mess with the other. The boy was still unconscious.

Roger Stone felt suddenly worse himself. “Good grief!” His wife looked over her shoulder. “Get my injection kit,” she ordered. “In the locker behind you. I’ve got to give him the antidote and get him awake. He keeps trying to swallow his tongue.”

He gulped. “Yes, dear, Which antidote?” “Neocaffeine – one c.c. Move!”

He found the case, loaded the injector, handed it to Dr. Stone. She pressed it against the child’s side. “What else can I do?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“Is he in any danger?”

“Not while I have an eye on him. Now get out and ask Hazel to come here.”

“Yes, dear. Right away.” He swam on aft, found his mother sitting in midair, looking pleased with herself. Pollux was still loosely secured to his control couch. “Everything all right back here?” he asked.

“Sure. Why not? Except my assistant, maybe. I believe he wants off at the next stop.” Pollux growled. “I’m feeling okay. Quit riding me.”

Roger Stone said, “Edith could use your help, Mother. Buster has thrown up all over the bunkroom.” “Why, the little devil! He didn’t have a thing to eat today; I rode herd on him myself.”

“You must have let him out of your sight for a few minutes, from the evidence. Better go give Edith a hand.”

“To hear is to obey, Master.” She kicked one heel against the bulkhead behind her and zipped out the hatch. Roger turned to his son.

“How’s it going?”

“I’ll be all right in a couple of hours. It’s just one of those things you have to go through with, like brushing your teeth.” “Check. I’d like to rent a small planet myself. Have you written up the engineering log?”

“Not yet.”

“Do so. It will take your mind off your stomach.” Roger Stone went forward again and looked into the bunkroom. Lowell was awake and crying; Edith had him sheeted to a bunk to give him a feeling of pressure and stability.

The child wailed, “Mama! Make it hold still” “Shush, dear. You’re all right. Mother is here,” “I want to go home!”

She did not answer but caressed his forehead. Roger Stone backed hastily out and pulled himself forward.

By supper time all hands except Lowell were over the effects of free fall – a sensation exactly like stepping off into an open elevator shaft in the dark. Nevertheless no one wanted much to eat; Dr. Stone limited the menu to a clear soup, crackers, and stewed dried apricots. Ice cream was available but there were no takers.

Except for the baby none of them had any reason to expect more than minor and temporary discomfort from the change from planet-surface weight to the endless falling of free orbit. Their stomachs and the semicircular canals of their ears had been through the ordeal before; they were inured to it, salted.

Lowell was not used to it; his physical being rebelled against it, nor was he old enough to meet it calmly and without fear. He cried and made himself worse, alternating that with gagging and choking. Hazel and Meade took turns trying to quiet him. Meade finished her skimpy dinner and relieved the watch; when Hazel came into the control room where they were eating Roger Stone said, “How is he now?”

Hazel shrugged. “I tried to get him to play chess with me. He spat in my face.” “He must be getting better.”

“Not so you could notice it.”

Castor said, “Gee whiz, Mother, can’t you dope him up till he gets his balance?”

“No,” answered Dr. Stone, “I’m giving him the highest dosage now that his body mass will tolerate.” “How long do you think it will take him to snap out of it?” asked her husband.

“I can’t make a prediction. Ordinarily children adapt more readily than adults, as you know, dear – but we know also that some people never do adapt. They simply are constitutionally unable to go out into space.”

Pollux let his jaw sag. “You mean Buster is a natural-born groundhog?” He made the word sound like both a crippling disability and a disgrace. “Pipe down,” his father said sharply.

“I mean nothing of the sort,” his mother said crisply. “Lowell is having a bad time but he may adjust very soon.”

There was glum silence for some minutes. Pollux refilled his soup bag, got himself some crackers, and eased back to his perch with one leg hooked around a stanchion. He glanced at Castor; the two engaged in a conversation that consisted entirely of facial expressions and shrugs. Their father looked at them and looked away; the twins often talked to each other that way; the code – if it was a code – could not be read by anyone else. He turned to his wife. “Edith, do you honestly think there is a chance that Lowell may not adjust?”

“A chance, of course.” She did not elaborate, nor did she need to. Spacesickness like seasickness does not itself kill, but starvation and exhaustion do.

Castor whistled. “A fine time to find it out, after it’s too late. We’re akeady in orbit for Mars.” Hazel said sharply. “You know better than that, Castor.”

“Huh?”

“Of course, dopy,” his twin answered. “We’ll have to tack back.’ 1

“Oh.” Castor frowned. “I forgot for the moment that this was a two-legged jump.” He sighed. “Well, that’s that. I guess we go back.” There was one point and one only at which they could decide to return to the Moon. They were falling now toward Earth in a conventional ‘S-orbit” practically a straight line. They would pass very close to Earth in an hyperboloid at better than five miles per second, Earth relative. To continue to Mars they planned to increase this speed by firing the jet at the point of closest approach, falling thereby into an ellipsoid, relative to the Sun, which would let them fall to a rendezvous with Mars. They could reverse this maneuver, check their plunging progress by firing the jet against their motion and

thereby force the Stone into an ellipsoid relative to Earth, a curve which, if correctly calculated, would take them back to Luna, back home before their baby brother could starve or wear himself out with retching. “Yep, that’s that,” agreed Pollux. He suddenly grinned. “Anybody want to buy a load of bicycles? Cheap?”

“Don’t be in too big a hurry to liquidate,” his father told him, “but we appreciate your attitude. Edith, what do you think?” “I say we mustn’t take any chances,” announced Hazel. “That baby is sick.”

Dr. Stone hesitated: “Roger, how long is it to perigee?” He glanced at his control board. “About thirty-five hours.”

“Why don’t you prepare both maneuvers? Then we will not have to decide until it’s time to turn ship.”

“That makes sense, Hazel, you and Castor work the homing problem; Pol and I will work the Mars vector. First approximations only; we’ll correct when we’re closer. Everyone work independently, then we’ll swap and check. Mind your decimals!”

“You mind yours.” Hazel answered.

Castor gave his father a sly grin. “You picked the easy one, eh, Dad?” His father looked at him. “Is it too hard for you? Do you want to swap?” “Oh, no, Sir! I can do it.”

“Then get on with it – and bear in mind you are a crew member in space.” “Aye aye, sir.”

He had in fact ‘picked the easy one’; the basic tack-around-Earth-for-Mars problem had been solved by the big computers of Luna Pilot Station before they blasted off. To be sure, Luna Pilot’s answer would have to be revised to fit the inevitable errors, or deviations from flight plan, that would show up when they reached perigee rounding Earth – they might be too high, too low, too fast, too slow, or headed somewhat differently from the theoretical curve which had bem computed for them. In fact they could be sure to be wrong in all three factors; the tiniest of errors at blast-off had a quarter of a million miles in which to multiply.

But nothing could be done to compute the corrections for those errors for the next fifteen or twenty hours; the deviations had to be allowed to grow before they could be measured accurately.

But the blast back to shape an ellipsoid home to Luna was a brand-new, unpremeditated problem. Captain Stone had not refused it out of laziness; he intended to do both problems but had kept his intention to himself. In the meantime he had another worry; strung out behind him were several more ships, all headed for Mars. For the next several days there would be frequent departures from the Moon, all ships taking advantage of the one favorable period in every twenty-six months when the passage to Mars was relatively ‘cheap’, i.e., when the minimum-fuel ellipse tangent to both planet’s orbits would actually make rendezvous with Mars rather than arrive foolishly at some totally untenanted part of Mars’ orbit. Except for military vessels and super expensive passenger-ships, all traffic for Mars left at this one time.

During the four-day period bracketing the ideal instant of departure ships leaving Leyport paid a fancy premium for the privilege over and above the standard service fee. Only a large ship could afford such a fee; the saving in cost of single-H reactive mass had to be greater than the fee. The Rolling Stone had departed just before the premium charge went into effect; consequently she had trailing her like beads on a string a round dozen of ships, all headed down to Earth, to tack around her toward Mars.

If the Rolling Stone vectored back and shaped course for Luna rather than Mars, there was a possibility of traffic trouble.

Collisions between spaceships are almost unheard of; space is very large and ships are very tiny. But they are possible, particularly when many ships are doing much the same thing at the same time ia the same region of space. Spacemen won’t forget the Rising Star and the patrol vessel Trygve Lie – four hundred and seven dead, no survivors.

Ships for Mars would be departing Luna for the next three days and more; the Rolling Stone, in rounding Earth and heading back to Luna (toward where Luna would be on her arrival) would cut diagonally across their paths. Besides these hazards, there were Earth’s three radio- satellites and her satellite space station; each ship’s flight plan, as approved by Luna Pilot Station, took into consideration these four orbits, but the possible emergency maneuver of the Rolling Stone had had no such safety check. Roger Stone mentally chewed his nails at the possibility that Traffic Control might refuse permission for the Rolling Stone to change its approved flight plan – which they would do if there was the slightest possibility of collision, sick child or no.

And Captain Stone would ignore their refusal, risk collision and take his child home – there to lose his pilot’s license certainly and to face a stiff sentence from the Admiralty court possibly.

Besides the space station and the radio satellites there were the robot atom-bomb peace rockets of the Patrol, circling the Earth from pole to pole, but it was most unlikely that the Rolling Stone’s path would intersect one of their orbits; they moved just outside the atmosphere, lower than a spaceship was allowed to go other than in landing, whereas in order to tack the Rolling Stone would necessarily go inside the orbits of the radio satellites and that of the space station wait a minute – Roger Stone thought over that last idea. Would it be possible to match in with the space station instead of going back to Luna?

If he could, he could get Lowell back to weight a couple of days sooner – in the spinning part of the space station!

The ballistic computer was not in use; Castor and Hazel were still in the tedious process of setting up their problems. Captain Stone moved to it and started making a rough set-up directly on the computer itself, ignoring the niceties of ballistics, simply asking the machine, “Can this, or can this not, be done?”

Half an hour later he gave up, let his shoulders sag. Oh, yes, he could match in with the space station’s orbit – but at best only at a point almost a hundred degrees away from the station. Even the most lavish expenditure of reaction mass would not permit him to reach the station itself.

He cleared the computer almost violently. Hazel glanced toward him. “What’s eating you, son?” “I thought we might make port at the station. We can’t.”

“I could have told you that”

He did not answer but went aft. Lowell, he found, was as sick as ever.

Earth was shouldering into the starboard port, great and round and lovely; they were approaching her rapidly, less than ten hours from the critical point at which they must maneuver, one way or the other. Hazel’s emergency flight plan, checked and rechecked by the Captain, had been radioed to Traffic Control. They were all resigned to a return to Luna; nevertheless Pollux was, with the help of Quito Pilot, Ecuador, checking their deviations from the original flight plan and setting up the problem of preparing a final ballistic for Mars.

Dr. Stone came into the control room, poised near the hatch, caught her husband’s eye and beckoned him to come with her. He floated after her into their stateroom. “What is it?” he asked. “Is Lowell worse?”

“No, he’s better.” “Eh?”

“Dear, I don’t think he was spacesick at all.” “What’s that?”

“Oh, a little bit, perhaps. But I think his symptoms were largely allergy; I think he is sensitive to the sedative.” “Huh? I never heard of anyone being sensitive to that stuff before.”

“Neither have I, but there can always be a first time I withdrew the drug several hours ago since it did not seem to help him. His symptoms eased off gradually and his pulse is better now.”

“Is he okay? Is it. safe to go on to Mars?”

“Too early to say. I’d like to keep him under observation another day or two.”

“But – Edith, you know that’s impossible. I’ve got to maneuver.” He was wretched from strain and lack of sleep; neither had slept since blast-off more than twenty-four hours earlier.

“Yes, I know. Give me thirty minutes warning before you must have an answer. I’ll decide then.” “Okay. I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

“Dear Roger!”

Before they were ready to ’round the corner’ on their swing past Earth the child was much better. His mother kept him under a light hypnotic for several hours; when he woke from it he demanded food. She tried letting him have a few mouthfuls of custard; he choked on the first bite but that was simply mechanical trouble with no gravity – on the second bite he learned how to swallow and kept it down.

He kept several more down and was still insisting that he was starved when she made him stop. Then he demanded to be untied from the couch. His mother gave in on this but sent for Meade to keep him under control and in the bunk-room. She pulled herself forward and found her husband. Hazel and Castor were at the computer; Castor was reading off to her a problem program while she punched the keys; Pollux was taking a doppler reading on Earth. Edith drew Roger Stone away from them and whispered, “Dear, I guess we can relax. He has eaten – and he didn’t get sick.”

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to take even a slight chance.”

She shrugged. “How can I be sure? I’m a doctor, not a fortune-teller.” “What’s your decision?”

She frowned, “I would say to go on to Mars.”

“It’s just as well.” He sighed. “Traffic turned down my alternate flight plan. I was just coming back to tell you.”

“Then we have no choice.”

“You know better than that. I’d rather tell it to the judge than read the burial service. But I have one more card up my sleeve.”

She looked her query; he went on. “The War God is less than ten thousand miles behind us. If necessary, by using our mass margin, in less than

a week I could match with her and you and the baby could transfer. She’s a “tumbling. pigeon” since they refitted her – anything from Luna-surface to

a full gravity.”

“I hadn’t thought of that. Well, I don’t think it will be necessary but it’s a comfort to know that there is help close by.” She frowned. “I would not like to leave you and the children to shift for yourselves – and besides, it’s risky to use your margin; you may need it badly when we approach Mars.”

“Not if we handle the ship properly. Don’t you worry; Hazel and I will get it there if we have to get out and push.”

Pollux had stopped what he was doing and had been trying to overhear his parents’ conversation. He was unsuccessful; they had had too many years’ practice in keeping the kids from hearing. But he could see their intent expressions and the occasional frowns; he signaled his twin.

Castor said, “Hold it, Hazel. Time out to scratch. What goes, Pol?” “‘Now is the time for all good men”.” He nodded toward their parents. “Right. I’ll do the talking.” They moved aft.

Roger Stone looked at them and frowned. “What is it, boys? We’re busy.” “Yes, sir. But this seems like a salubrious time to make an announcement.” “Yes?”

“Pol and I vote to go back home. “Huh?”

“We figure that there’s no percentage in taking a chance with Buster.”

Pol added, “Sure, he’s a brat, but look how much you’ve got invested in him.” “If he died on us,” Castor went on, “it would spoil all the fun.”

“And even if he didn’t, who wants to clean up after him for weeks on end?” “Right,” agreed Pol. “Nobody likes to play room steward to a sick groundhog.” “And if he did die, the rest of you would blame us for the rest of our lives.” “Longer than that,” Pol added.

“Don’t worry about that “negat” from Traffic. Hazel and I are working out a skew path that will let us miss the Queen Mary ,with minutes to spare – seconds anyhow. Course it may scare em a little.”

“Quiet!” said Captain Stone. “One at a time – Castor, let me get this straight: do I understand that you and your brother are sufficiently concerned about your younger brother’s welfare that you want to return to Luna in any case?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Even if your mother decides that it is safe for him to continue?”

“Yes, sir. We talked it over. Even if he’s looking pretty good now, he was one sick pup and anybody that sick might not make it to Mars. It’s a long haul. We don’t want to risk it.”

Hazel had come aft and listened; now she said, “Nobility ill-becomes you, Cas. You were more convincing with the other routine.” “You butt out of this, Mother. Pol?”

“Cas told you. Shucks, we can make other trips”

Roger Stone looked at his sons. “I must say,” he said slowly, “that it is surprising and gratifying to find so much family solidarity in this aggregation of individualists. Your mother and I will remember it with pride. But I am glad to say that it is unnecessary. We will continue for Mars.”

Hazel scowled at him. “Roger, did you bump your head on the take-off? This is no time to take a chance; we take the kid back to Luna. I’ve talked with the boys and they mean it. So do I.”

Castor said, “Dad, if you’re afraid of that skew orbit, I’ll pilot. I know-”

“Silence!” When he got it he went on as if to himself, “It says right here in the book to give orders, not explanations, and never to let them be

argued. So help me, I’m going to run a taut ship if I have to put my own mother in irons.” He raised his voice. “All hands! Prepare for maneuvering.

Departure for Mars, gravity-well procedure.”

Edith Stone said softly to Hazel, “The baby is all right. Mother. I’m sure.” Then she turned to her sons. “Castor, Pollux – come here, dears.” “But Dad said -”

“I know. Come here first.” She kissed each of them and said, “Now man your stations.”

Mead appeared at the hatch, towing Lowell behind her like a toy balloon. He seemed cheerful and his face was cheerfully smeared with chocolate. “What’s all the racket about?” she demanded. “You not only woke us; you must be disturbing people three ships behind.”

V – IN THE GRAVITY WELL

A gravity-well maneuver involves what appears to be a contradiction in the law of conservation of energy. A ship leaving the Moon or a space station for some distant planet can go faster on less fuel by dropping first toward Earth, then performing her principal acceleration while as close to Earth as possible. To be sure, a ship gains kinetic energy (speed) in falling towards Earth, but one would expect that she would lose exactly the same amount of kinetic energy as she coasted away from Earth.

The trick lies in the fact that the reactive mass or ‘fuel’ is itself mass and as such has potential energy of position when the ship leaves the Moon. The reactive mass used in accelerating near Earth (that is to say, at the bottom of the gravity well) has lost its energy of position by falling down the gravity well. That energy has to go somewhere, and so it does – into the ship, as kinetic energy. The ship ends up going faster for the same force and duration of thrust than she possibly could by departing directly from the Moon or from a space station. The mathematics of this is somewhat baffling – but it works.

Captain Stone put both the boys in the power room for this maneuver and placed Hazel as second pilot. Castor’s feelings were hurt but he did not argue, as the last discussion of ship’s discipline was still echoing. The pilot has his hands full in this maneuver, leaving it up to the co-pilot to guard the auto-pilot, to be ready to fire manually if need he, and to watch for brennschluss. It is the pilot’s duty to juggle his ship on her gyros and flywheel with his eyes glued to a measuring telescope, a ‘coelostat’, to be utterly sure to the extreme limit of the accuracy of his instruments that his ship is aimed exactly right when the jet fires.

In the passage from Earth to Mars a mistake in angle of one minute of arc, one sixtieth of a degree, will amount to – at the far end – about fifteen thousand miles. Such mistakes must be paid for in reactive mass by maneuvering to correct, or, if the mistake is large enough, it will he paid for tragically and inexorably with the lives of captain and crew while the ship plunges endlessly on into the empty depths of space.

Roger Stone had a high opinion of the abilities of his twins, but on this touchy occasion, he wanted the co-pilot backing him up to have the steadiness of age and experience. With Hazel riding the other. couch he could give his whole mind to his delicate task.

To establish a frame of reference against which to aim his ship he had three stars, Spica, Deneb, and Fomalhaut, lined up in his scope, their images brought together by prisms. Mars was still out of sight beyond the bulging breast of Earth, nor would it have helped to aim for Mars; the road to Mars is a long curve, not a straight line. One of the images seemed to drift a trifle away from the others; sweating, he unclutched his gyros and nudged the ship by flywheel. The errant image crept back into position. “Doppler?” he demanded.

“In the groove.” “Time?”

“About a minute. Son, keep your mind on your duck shooting and don’t fret.”

He wiped his hands on his shirt and did not answer. For some seconds silence obtained, then Hazel said quietly, “Unidentified radar beacon blip on the screen, sir. Robot response and a string of numbers.”

“Does it concern us?”

“Closing north and starboard. Possible collision course.”

Roger Stone steeled himself not to look at his own screen; a quick glance would tell him nothing that Hazel had not reported. He kept his face glued to the eyeshade of the coelostat. “Evasive maneuver indicated?

“Son, you’re as likely to dodge into it as duck away from it. Too late to figure a ballistic.”

He forced himself to watch the star images and thought about it. Hazel was right, one did not drive a spaceship by the seat of the pants. At the high speeds and tight curves at the bottom of a gravity well, close up to a planet, an uncalculated maneuver might bring on a collision. Or it might throw them into an untenable orbit, one which would never allow them to reach Mars.

But what could it be? Not a spaceship, it was unmanned. Not a meteor, it carried a beacon. Not a bomb rocket, it was too high. He noted that the images were steady and stole a glance, first at his own screen, which told him nothing, and then through the starboard port.

Good heavens! he could see it!

A great gleaming star against the black of space… growing growmg! “Mind your scope, son,” said Hazel. “Nineteen seconds.”

He put his eye back to the scope; the images were steady. Hazel continued, “It seems to be drawing ahead slightly.”

He had to look. As he did so something flashed up and obscured the starboard port and at once was visible in the portside port – visible but shrinking rapidly. Stone had a momentary impression of a winged torpedo shape.

“Whew!” Hazel sighed. “They went that-a-way, podnuh!” She added briskly, “All hands, brace for acceleration – five seconds!”

He had his eye on the star images, steady and perfectly matched, as the jet slammed him into his pads. The force was four gravities, much more

than the boost from Luna, but they held it for oniy slightly more than one minute. Captain Stone kept watching the star images, ready to check her if

she started to swing, but the extreme care with which he had balanced his ship in loading was rewarded: she held her attitude.

He heard Hazel shout, “Brennschluss!” just as the noise and pressure dropped off and died. He took a deep breath and said to the mike, “You all right, Edith?”

“Yes, dear,” she answered faintly. “We’re all right.” “Power room?”

“Okay!” Pollux answered.

“Secure and lock.” There was no need to have the power room stand by, any correction to course and speed on this leg would be made days or weeks later, after much calculation.

“Aye aye, sir. Say, Dad, what was the chatter about a blip?”

“Pipe down,” Hazel interrupted. “I’ve got a call coming in.” She added, “Rolling Stone, Luna, to Traffic – come in, Traffic.” There was a whir and a click and a female voice chanted:

“Traffic Control to Rolling Stone, Luna – routine traffic precautionary: your plan as filed will bring you moderately close to experimental rocket satellite of Harvard Radiation Laboratory. Hold to flight plan; you will fail contact by ample safe margin. End of message; repeat – “ The transcription ran itself through once more and shut off.

“Nowthey tell us!” Hazel exploded. “Oh, those cushion warmers! Those bureaucrats! I’ll bet that message has been holding in the tank for the past hour waiting for some idiot to finish discussing his missing laundry.”

She went on fuming: “”Moderately close!” “Ample safe margin!” Why, Roger, the consarned thing singed my eye-brows!” “”A miss is as good as a mile”.”

“A mile isn’t nearly enough, as you know darn well. It took ten years off my life – and at my age I can’t afford that.”

Roger Stone shrugged. After the strain and excitement he was feeling let down and terribly weary; since blast-off he had been running on stimulants instead of sleep. “I’m going to cork off for the next twelve hours. Get a preliminary check on our, vector; if there’s nothing seriously wrong, don’t wake me. I’ll look at it when I turn out.”

“Aye aye, Captain Bligh.”

First check showed nothing wrong with their orbit: Hazel followed him to bed – “bed’ in a figurative sense, for Hazel never strapped herself to her bunk in free fall, preferring to float loosely wherever air currents wafted her. She shared a stateroom with Meade. The three boys were assigned to the bunkroom and the twins attempted to turn in – but Lowell was not sleepy. He felt fine and was investigating the wonderful possibilities of free fall. He wanted to play tag. The twins did not want to play tag; Lowell played tag anyhow,.

Pollux snagged him by an ankle. “Listen, you! Weren’t you enough trouble by being sick?” “I was not sick!”

“So? Who was it we had to clean up after? Santa Claus?”

“There ain’t any Santa Claus. I was not sick. You’re a fibber, you’re a fibber, you’re a fibber!”

“Don’t argue with him,” Castor advised. “Just choke him and stuff him out the lock. We can explain and correct the ship’s mass factor tomorrow.” “I was not sick!”

Pollux said, “Meade had quite a bit of sack time on the leg down. Maybe you can talk her into taking him off our hands?” “I’ll try’.”

Meade was awake; she considered it. “Cash?” “Sis, don’t be that way!”

“Well … three days’ dishwashing?”

“Skinflint! It’s a deal; come take charge of the body.” Meade had to use the bunkroom as a nursery; the boys went forward and slept in the control room, each strapping himself loosely to a control couch as required by ship’s regulations to avoid the chance of jostling instruments during sleep.

VI – THE MIGHTY BOOM

Captain Stone had all hands with the exception of Dr. Stone and Lowell compute their new orbit. They all worked from the same. data, using readings supplied by Traffic Control and checked against their own instruments. Roger Stone waited until all had finished before comparing results.

“What do you get, Hazel?”

“As I figure, Captain, you won’t miss Mars by more than a million miles or so.” “I figure it right on.”

“Well, now that you mention it, so do I.” “Cas? Pol? Meade?”

The twins were right together to six decimal places and checked with their father and grandmother to five, but Meade’s answer bore no resemblance to any of the others. Her father looked it over curiously. “Baby girl, I can’t figure out how you got this out of the computer. As near as I can tell you have us headed for Proxima Centauri.”

Meade looked at it with interest. “Is that so? Tell you what let’s use mine and see what happens. It ought to be interesting.” “But not practical. You have us going faster than light.”

“I thought the figures were a bit large.”

Hazel stuck out a bony forefinger. “That ought to be a minus sign, hon.”

“That’s not all that’s wrong,” announced Pollux. “Look at this – “ He held out Meade’s programming sheet. “That will do, Pol,” his father interrupted. “You are not called on to criticise Meade’s astrogation.”

“But -”

“Stow it.”

“I don’t mind, Daddy,” Meade put in. “I knew I was wrong.” She shrugged. “It’s the first one I’ve ever worked outside of school. Somehow it makes a difference when it’s real.”

“It certainly does as every astrogator learns. Never mind, Hazel has the median figures. We’ll log hers.” Hazel shook hands with herself. “The winnah and still champeen!”

Castor said, “Dad, that’s final? No more maneuvers until you calculate your approach to Mars?” “Of course not. No changes for six months at least. Why?”

“Then Pol and I respectfully request the Captain’s permission to decompress the hold and go outside. We want to get to work on our bikes.”

“Never mind the fake military-vessel phraseology. But I have news for you.” He took a sheet of paper out of his belt pouch. “Just a moment while I make a couple of changes.” He wrote on it, then fastened it to the control room bulletin board. It read:

SHIP’S ROUTINE

0700 Reveille (optional for Edith, Hazel, & Buster) 0745 Breakfast (Meade cooks. Twins wash dishes) 0900 School C & P, math

Meade, astrogation, coached by Hazel

Lowell, reeling, writhing, and fainting in coils – or whatever his mother deems necessary

1200 End of morning session 1215 Lunch

1300 School C&P, math

Hydroponics chores, Meade 1600 End of afternoon session

1800 Dinner – All Hands initial ship’s maintenance schedule.

SATURDAY ROUTINE – turn to after breakfast and clean ship, Hazel in charge. Captain’s inspection at 1100. Personal laundry in afternoon. SUNDAY ROUTINE – meditation, study, and recreation. Make & Mend in afternoon.

Hazel looked it over. “Where are we headed, Rog? Botany Bay? You forgot to set a time to flog the peasants.” “It seems very reasonable to me.”

“Possibly. Six gets you ten it won’t last a week.” “Done. Let’s see your money.”

The twins had read it with dismay. Pollux blurted out, “But Dad! You haven’t left us any time to repair our bikes – do you want us to lose our investment?”

“I’ve assigned thirty hours of study a week. That leaves one hundred and thirty-eight other hours. How you use them is your business as long as you keep our agreement about studying.”

Castor said, “Suppose we want to start math at eight-thirty and again right after lunch? Can we get out of school that much earlier?” “I see no objection.”

“And suppose we study evenings sometimes? Can we work up some velvet?”

Their father shrugged. “Thirty hours a week – any reasonable variations in the routine will be okay, provided you enter in the log the exact times.” “Now that that’s settled,” Hazel commenced, “I regret to inforrn you, Captain, that there is one other little item on that Procrustean program that will

have to be canceled for the time being at least. Much as I would enjoy inducing our little blossom into the mysteries of astrogation I don’t have the time right now. You’ll have to teach her yourself.”

“Why?”

“‘Why” the man asks? You should know better than anyone. The Scourge of the Spaceways, that’s why. I’ve got to hole up and write like mad for the next three or four weeks; I’ve got to get several months of episodes ahead before we get out of radio range.”

Roger Stone looked at his mother sadly. “I knew it was bound to come, Hazel, but I didn’t expect it to hit you so young. The mental processes dull, the mind tends to wander, the -”

“Whose mind does what? Why you young -”

“Take it easy. If you’ll look over your left shoulder out the starboard port and squint your eyes, you might imagine that you see a glint on the War

God. It can’t be much over ten thousand miles away.”

“What’s that got to do with me?” she demanded suspiciously.

“Poor Hazel! We’ll take good care of you, Mother, we’re riding in orbit with several large commercial vessels; every one of them has burners powerful enough to punch through to Earth. We won’t ever be out of radio contact with Earth.”

Hazel stared out the port as if she could actually spot the War God. “Well, I’ll be dogged,” she breathed. “Roger, lead me to my room – that’s a good boy. It’s senile decay, all right You’d better take back your show; I doubt if I can write it.”

“Huh, uh! You let them pick up that option; you’ve got to write it. Speaking of The Scum of the Waste Spaces, I’ve been meaning to ask you a couple of questions about it and this is the first spare moment we’ve had. In the first place, why did you let them sign us up again?”

“Because they waved too much money under my nose, as you know full well. It’s an aroma we Stones have hardly ever been able to resist.” “I just wanted to make you admit it. You were going to get me off the hook – remember? So you swallowed it yourself.”

“More bait.”

“Surely. Now the other point: I don’t see how you dared to go ahead with it, no matter how much money they offered. The last episode you showed

me, while you had killed off the Galactic Overlord you had also left Our Hero in a decidedly untenable position. Sealed in a radioactive sphere, if I

remember correctly, at the bottom of an ammonia ocean on Jupiter. The ocean was swarming with methane monsters, whatever they are, each hypnotised by the Overlord’s mind ray to go after John Sterling at the first whiff – and him armed only with his Scout knife. How did you get him out of it?”

“We found a way,” put in Pol. “If you assume -”

“Quiet infants. Nothing to it, Roger. By dint of superhuman effort Our Hero extricated himself from his predicament and-” “That’s no answer.”

“You don’t understand. I open the next episode on Ganymede. John Sterling is telling Special Agent Dolores O’Shanahan about his adventure. He’s making light of it, see? He’s noble so he really wouldn’t want to boast to a girl. Just as he is jokingly disparaging his masterly escape the next action starts and it’s so fast and so violent and so bloody that our unseen audience doesn’t have time to think about it until the commercial. And by then they’ve got too much else to think about.”

Roger shook his head. “That’s literary cheating.”

“Who said this was literature? It’s a way to help corporations take tax deductions. I’ve got three new sponsors.” “Hazel,” asked Pollux, “where have you got them now? What’s the situation?”

Hazel glanced at the chronometer. “Roger, does that schedule take effect today? Or can we start fresh tomorrow?” He smiled feebly. “Tomorrow, I guess.”

“If this is going to degenerate into a story conference, I’d better get Lowell. I get my best ideas from Lowell; he’s just the mental age of my average audience.”

“If I were Buster, I would resent that.”

“Quiet!” She slithered to the hatch and called out, “Edith! May I borrow your wild animal for a while?” Meade said, “I’ll get him, Grandmother. But wait for me.”

She returned quickly with the child. Lowell said, “What do you want, Grandma Hazel? Bounce tag?” She gathered him in an arm. “No, son – blood. Blood and gore. We’re going to kill off some villains.” “Swell!

“Now as I recall it – and mind you, I was only there once – I left them lost in the Dark Nebula. Their food is gone and so is the Q-fuel. They’ve made a temporary truce with their Arcturian prisoners and set them free to help – which is safe enough because they are silicon-chemistry people and can’t eat humans. Which is about what they are down to; the real question is – who gets barbecued for lunch? They need the help of the Arcturian prisoners because the Space Entity they captured in the last episode and imprisoned in an empty fuel tank has eaten its way through all but the last bulkhead and it doesn’t have any silly previous prejudices about body chemistry. Carbon or silicon; it’s all one to it.”

“I don’t believe that’s logical,” commented Roger stone. “If its own chemistry was based-”

“Out of order,” ruled Hazel. “Helpful suggestions only, please. Pol? You seem to have a gleam in your eye” “This, Space Entity jigger can he stand up against radar wave lengths?”

“Now we’re getting somewhere. But we’ve got to complicate it a bit Well, Meade?”

The twins started moving their bicycles outside the following day. The suits they wore were the same ones they had worn outdoors on the Moon, With the addition of magnetic boots and small rocket motors. These latter were strapped to their backs with the nozzles sticking straight out from their waists. An added pressure bottle to supply the personal rocket motor was mounted on the shoulders of each boy but, being weightless, the additional mass was little handicap.

“Now remember,” their father warned them, “those boost units are strictly for dire emergency. Lifelines at all times. And don’t depend on your boots when you shift lines, snap on the second line before you loose the first.”

“Shucks, Dad, we’ll be careful.”

“No doubt. But you can expect me to make a surprise inspection at any time. One slip on a safety precaution and it’s the rack and thumb screws, plus fifty strokes of bastinado.”

“No boiling oil?”

“Can’t afford it. See here, you think I’m joking. If one of you should happen to get loose and drift away from the ship, don’t expect me to come after you. One of you is a spare anyway.”

“Which one?” asked Pollux. “Cas, maybe?”

“Sometimes I think it’s one, sometimes the other. Strict compliance with ship’s orders will keep me from having to decide at this time.”

The cargo hatch had no airlock; the twins decompressed the entire hold, then opened the door, remembering just in time to snap on their lines as the door opened. They looked out and both hesitated. Despite their lifelong experience with vacuum suits on the face of the Moon this was the first time either one had ever been outside a ship in orbit.

The hatch framed endless cosmic night, blackness made colder and darker by the unwinking diamond stars many light-years away. They were on the night side of the Stone; there was nothing but stars and the swallowing depths. It was one thing to see it from the safety of Luna or through the strong quartz of a port; it was quite another to see it with nothing at all between one’s frail body and the giddy, cold depths of eternity.

Pollux said, “Cas, I don’t like this.” “There’s nothing to be afraid of.” “Then why are my teeth chattering?”

“Go ahead; I’ll keep a tension on your line.”

“You are too good to me, dear brother – a darn sight too good! You go and I’ll keep a tension on your line.” “Don’t be silly! Get on out there.”

“After you, Grandpa.”

“Oh, well!” Castor grasped the frame of the hatch and swung himself out. He scrambled to click his magnetic boots to the side of the ship but the position was most awkward, the suit was cumbersome, and he had no. gravity to help him. Instead, he swung around and his momentum pulled his fingers loose from the smooth frame. His floundering motions bumped the side of the ship and pushed him gently away. He floated out, still floundering, until his line checked him three or four feet from the side. “Pull me in!”

“Put your feet down, clumsy!”

“I can’t. Pull me in, you red-headed moron!”

“Don’t call me “red-headed”.” Pollux let out a couple of feet more line. “Pol, quit fooling. I don’t like this.”

“I thought you were brave. Grandpa?”

Castor’s reply was incoherent. Pollux decided that it had gone far enough; he pulled Castor in and, while holding firmly to a hatch dog himself, he grabbed one of Castor’s boots and set it firmly against the side; it clicked into place. “Snap on your other line,” he ordered.

Castor, still breathing heavily, looked for a padeye in the side of the ship. He found one nearby and walked over to it, picking up his feet as if he walked in sticky mud. He snapped his second line to the ring of the padeye and straightened up. “Catch,” Pollux called out and sent his own second line snaking out to his twin

Castor caught it and fastened it beside his own. “All set?” asked Pollux. “I’m going to unsnap us in here.” “All secure.” Castor moved closer to the hatch.

“Here I come.”

“So you do.” Castor gave Pollux’s line a tug; Pollux came sailing out of the hatch – and Castor let him keep on sailing. Castor checked the line gently through his fingers, soaking up the momentum, so that Pollux reached the end of the fifty-foot line and stayed there without bouncing back.

Pollux had been quite busy on the way out but to no effect -sawing vacuum is futile. When he felt himself snubbed to a stop he quit straggling. “Pull me back!”

“Say “uncle”.”

Pollux said several other things, some of which he had picked up dockside on Luna, plus some more colorful expressions derived from his grandmother. “You had better get off this ship,” he concluded, “because I’m coming down this line and take your helmet off.” He made a swipe for the line with one hand; Castor flipped it away.

“Say “even-Steven” then.”

Pollux had the line now, having remembered to reach for his belt where it was hooked instead of grabbing for the bight.” Suddenly he grinned. “Okay – “even-Steven”.”

“Even-Steven it is. Hold still; I’ll bring you in.” He towed him in gently, grabbing Pol’s feet and clicking them down as he approached. “You looked mighty silly out there,” he commented when Pollux was firm to the ship’s side.

His twin invoked their ritual. “Even-Steven!” “My apologies, Junior. Let’s get to work.”

Padeyes were spaced about twenty feet apart all over the skin of the ship. They had been intended for convenience in rigging during overhauls and to facilitate outside inspections while underway; the twins now used them to park bicycles. They removed the bicycles from the hold half a dozen at a time, strung on a wire loop like a catch of fish. They fastened each clutch of bikes to a padeye; the machines floated loosely out from the side like boats tied up to an ocean ship.

Stringing the clusters of bicycles shortly took them over the ‘horizon’ to the day side of the ship. Pollux was in front carrying six bicycles in his left hand. He stopped suddenly. “Hey, Grandpa! Get a load of this!”

“Don’t look at the Sun,” Castor said sharply. “Don’t be silly. But come see this.”

Earth and Moon swam in the middle distance in slender crescent phase. The Stone was slowly dropping behind Earth in her orbit, even more slowly drifting outward away from the Sun. For many weeks yet Earth would appear as a ball, a disc, before distance cut her down to a brilliant star. Now she appeared about as large as she had from Luna but she was attended by Luna herself. Her day side was green and dun and lavished with cottony clouds; her night side showed the jewels of cities.

But the boys were paying no attention to the Earth; they were looking at the Moon. Pollux sighed. “Isn’t she beautiful?” “What’s the matter, Junior? Homesick?”

“No. But she’s beautiful, just the same. Look, Cas, whatever ships we ever own, let’s always register them out of Luna City. Home base.” “Suits. Can you make out the burg?”

“I think so.”

“Probably just a spot on your helmet. I can’t. Let’s get back to work.”

They had used all the padeyes conveniently close to the hatch and were working aft when Pollux said, “Wups I Take it easy. Dad said not to go aft of frame 65.”

“Shucks, it must be “cool” back to 90, at least. We’ve used the jet less than five minutes.”

“Don’t be too sure; neutrons are slippery customers. And you know what a stickler Dad is, anyway.” “He certainly is,” said a third voice.

They did not jump out of their boots because they were zipped tight. Instead they turned around and saw their father standing, hands on hips, near the passenger airlock. Pollux gulped and said, “Howdy, Dad.”

“You sure gave us a start,” Castor added sheepishly.

“Sorry. But don’t let me disturb you; I just came out to enjoy the view.” He looked over their work. “You’ve certainly got my ship looking like a junkyard.”

“Well, we had to have room to work. Anyhow, who’s to see?”

“In this location you have the Almighty staring down the back of your neck. But I don’t suppose He’ll mind.” “Say, Dad, Pol and I sort of guessed that you wouldn’t want us to do any welding inside the hold?”

“You sort of guessed correctly – not after what happened in the Kong Christian.”

“So we figured we could jury-rig a rack for welding out here. Okay?”

“Okay. But it’s too nice a day to talk business.” He raised his open hands to the stars and looked out. “Swell place. Lots of elbow room. Good scenery.”

“That’s the truth; But come around to the Sun side if you want to see something.”

“Right. Here, help me shift my lines.” They walked around the hull and into the sunlight. Captain Stone, Earth born, looked first at the mother planet. “Looks like a big storm is working up around the Philippines.”

Neither of the twins answered; weather was largely a mystery to them, nor did they approve of weather. Presently he turned to them and said softly, “I’m glad we came, boys. Are you?”

“Oh, you bet!”

“Sure!” They had forgotten how cold and unfriendly the black depths around them had seemed only a short time before. Now it was an enormous

room, furnished in splendor, though not yet fully inhabited. It was their own room, to live in, to do with as they liked.

They stood there for quite a long time, enjoying it At last Captain Stone said, “I’ve had all the sun I can stand for a while. Let’s work around back into the shade.” He shook his head to dislodge a drop of sweat from his nose.

“We ought to get back to work anyhow.” “I’ll help you; we’ll get done faster.”

The Rolling Stone swung on and outward toward Mars; her crew fell into routine habits. Dr. Stone was handy at weightless cooking, unusually skilful, in fact, from techniques she had picked up during a year’s internship in the free-fall research clinic in Earth’s station. Meade was not so skilled but very little can be done to ruin breakfast. Her father supervised her hydroponics duties, supplementing thereby the course she had had in Luna City High School. Dr. Stone split the care of her least child with his grandmother and used her leisure placidly collating some years of notes for a paper ‘On the Cumulative Effects of Marginal Hypoxia.”

The twins discovered that mathematics could be even more interesting than they had thought and much more difficult – it required even more ‘savvy’ than they thought they had (already a generous estimate) and they were forced to stretch their brains. Their father caught up on the back issues of The Reactomotive World and studied his ship’s manual but still had plenty of time to coach them and quiz them. Pollux, he discovered, was deficient in the ability to visualise a curve on glancing at ,an equation.

“I don’t understand it,” he said. “You got good marks in analytical geometry.” Pollux turned red. “What’s biting you?” his father demanded.

“Well, Dad, you see it’s this way -” “Go on.”

“Well, I didn’t exactly get good marks in analyt.”

Eh? What is this? You both got top marks; I remember clearly.”

“Well, now, you see – Well, we were awfully busy that semester and, well, it seemed logical. . . “ His voice trailed off. “Out with it! Out with it!”

“Cas took both courses in analyt.” Pollux blurted out, “and I took both courses in history. But I did read the book.”

“Oh, my!” Roger Stone sighed. “I suppose it’s covered by the statute of limitations by this time. Anyhow, you are finding out the hard way that such offences carry their own punishments. When you need it, you don’t know it worth a hoot.”

“Yessir.”

“But an extra hour a day for you, just the same – until you can visualise instantly from the equation a four-coordinate hyper-surface in a non- Euclidean continuum – standing on your head in a cold shower.”

“Yessir.”

“Cas, what course did you fudge? Did you read the book?” “Yes, sir. It was medieval European history, sir.”

“Hmm . . . You’re equally culpable, but I’m not too much concerned with any course that does not require a slide rule and tables. You coach your brother.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

“If you are pinched for time, I’ll give you a hand with those broken-down bicycles, though I shouldn’t.”

The twins pitched into it, hard. At the end of two weeks Roger Stone announced himself satisfied with Pollux’s proficiency in analytical geometry. They moved on to more rarefied heights . . . the complex logics of matrix algebra, frozen in beautiful arrays. . . the tensor calculus that unlocks the atom. . . the wild and wonderful field equations that make Man king of the universe . . . the crashing, mind-splitting intuition of Forsyte’s Solution that had opened the 21st century and sent mankind another mighty step toward the stars. By the time Mars shone larger in the sky than Earth they had gone beyond the point where their father could reach them; they ploughed on together.

They usually studied together, out of the same book, floating head to head in their bunkroom, one set of feet pointed to celestial south, the other pair to the north. The twins had early gotten into the habit of reading the same book at the same time; as a result either of them could read upside down as easily as in the conventional attitude. While so engaged Pollux said to his brother, “You know, Grandpa, some of this stuff makes me think we ought to go into research rather than business. After all, money isn’t everything.”

“No,” agreed Castor, “there are also stocks, bonds, and patent rights, not to mention real estate and chattels.”

“I’m serious.

“We’ll do both. I’ve finished this page; flip the switch when you’re ready.”

The War God, riding in a slightly different orbit, had been gradually closing on them until she could be seen as a ‘star’ by naked eye – a variable star that winked out and flared up every sixteen seconds. Through the Stone‘s coelostat the cause could easily be seen; the War God was tumbling end over end, performing one full revolution every thirty-two seconds to provide centrifugal ‘artificial gravity’ to coddle the tender stomachs of her groundhog passengers. Each half revolution the Sun’s rays struck her polished skin at the proper angle to flash a dazzling gleam at the Stone. Through the ‘scope the reflection was bright enough to hurt the eyes.

The observation turned out to be both ways. A radio message came in; Hazel printed it and handed it with a straight face to her son: “WAR GOD TO ROLLING STONE – PVT – ROG OLD BOY, I HAVE YOU IN THE SCOPE. WHAT IN SPACE HAVE YOU GOT ON YOU? FUNGUS? OR SEA WEEDS? YOU LOOK LIKE A CHRISI’MAS TREE. P. VANDENBERGH, MASTER.”

Captain Stone glared at the message stat. “Why, that fat Dutchman’! I’ll “fungus” him. Here, Mother, send this: “Master to Master – private message: In that drunken tumbling pigeon how do you keep your eye to a scope? Do you enjoy playing nursemaid to a litter of groundhogs? No doubt the dowagers fight over a chance to eat at the captain’s table. Fun, I’ll bet. R. Stone, Master”.”

The answer came back: “ROGER DODGER YOU OLD CODGER, I’VE LIMITED MY TABLE TO FEMALE PASSENGERS CIRCA AGE TWENTY SO I CAN KEEP AN EYE ON THEM – PREFERENCE GIVEN TO BLONDES AROUND FIFTY KILOS MASS. COME OVER FOR DINNER. VAN.”

Pollux looked out the port, caught the glint on the War God. “Why don’t you take him up, Dad? I’ll bet I could make it across on my suit jet with one spare oxy bottle.”

“Don’t be silly. We haven’t that much safety line, even at closest approach. Hazel, tell him: “Thanks a million but I’ve got the prettiest little girl in the system cooking for me right now.”“

Meade said, “Me, Daddy? I thought you didn’t like my cooking?” “Don’t give yourself airs, snub nose. I mean your mother, of course.” Meade considered this. “But I look like her, don’t I?”

“Some. Send it, Hazel.”

“RIGHT YOU ARE! MY RESPECTS TO EDITH. “TRUTHFULLY, WHAT IS THAT STUFF? SHALL I SEND OVER WEEDKILLER, OR BARNACLE REMOVER? OR COULD WE BEAT IT TO DEATH WITH A STICK?”

“Why not tell him, Dad?” Castor inquired

“Very well, I will, send: “Bicycles: want to buy one?”“ To their surprise Captain Vandenbergh answered: “MAYBE. GOT A RALEIGH “SANDMAN”?”

“Tell him, “Yes!”

“Pollux put in. “A-number-one condition and brand-new tires. A bargain.”

“Slow up there,” his father interrupted. “I’ve seen your load. If you’ve got a bike in first-class condition, Raleigh or any other make, you’ve got it well hidden.”

“Aw, Dad, it will be – by the time we deliver.”

“What do you suppose he wants a bicycle for, dear?” Dr. Stone asked. “Prospecting? Surely not.”

“Probably just sightseeing. All right, Hazel, you can send it – but mind you, boys, I’ll inspect that vehicle-myself; Van trusts me.” Hazel pushed herself away from the rig. “Let the boys tell their own whoppers. I’m getting bored with this chit-chat.”

Castor took over at the key, started to dicker. The passenger skipper, it developed, really was willing to buy a bicycle. After a leisurely while they settled on a price well under Castor’s asking price, attractively under the usual prices on Mars, but profitably over what the boys had paid on Luna – this for delivery F.O.B. Phobos, circum Mars.

Roger Stone exchanged affectionate insults and gossip with his friend from time to time over the next several days. During the following week the War God came within phone range, but the conversations dropped off and stopped; they had exhausted topics of conversation. The War God had made her closest approach and was pulling away again; they did not hear from her for more than three weeks.

The call was taken by Meade. She hurried aft to the hold where her father was helping the twins spray enamel on reconditioned bicycles. “Daddy,

you’re wanted on the phone? War God, master to master – official.”

“Coming.” He hurried forward and took the call. “Rolling Stone, Captain Stone speaking.” “War God, commanding officer speaking. Captain, can you –

“Just a moment. This does not sound like Captain Vandenbergh.” “It isn’t. This is Rowley, Second Officer. I -”

“I understand that your captain wanted me, officially. Let me speak with him.”

“I’m trying to explain, Captain.” The officer sounded strained and irritable. “I am the commanding officer. Both Captain Vandenbergh and Mr. O’Flynn are on the binnacle list.”

“Eh? Sorry. Nothing serious, I hope?”

“I’m afraid it is, sir. Thirty-seven cases on the sick list this morning – and four deaths.” “Great Scott, man! What is it?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“Well, what does your medical officer say it is?” “That’s it, sir. The Surgeon died during the midwatch.” “Oh-”

“Captain, can you possibly match with us? Do you have enough maneuvering margin?” “What? Why?”

“You have a medical officer aboard. Haven’t you?” “Huh? But she’s my wife!” –

“She’s an M.D., is she not?”

Roger Stone remained silent for a long moment. Then he said, “I’ll call you back shortly, sir.”

It was a top level conference, limited to Captain Stone, Dr. Stone, and Hazel. First, Dr. Stone insisted on calling the War God and getting a full report on symptoms and progress of the disease. When she switched off her husband said, “Well, Edith, what is it?”

“I don’t know. I’ll have to see it.”

“Now, see here, I’m not going to have you risking -” “I’m a doctor, Roger.”

“You’re not in practice, not now. And you are the mother of a family. It’s quite out of the ques -” “I am a doctor, Roger.”

He sighed heavily. “Yes, dear.”

“The only thing to be determined is whether or not you can match in with the War God. Have you two reached an answer?” “We’ll start computing.”

“I’m going aft and check over my supplies.” She frowned. “1 didn’t expect to have to cope with an epidemic.” When she was gone Roger turned his face, twisted with indecision, to Hazel. “What do you think, Mother?” “Son, you don’t stand a chance. She takes her oath seriously. You’ve known that a long time.”

“I haven’t taken the Hippocratic oath! If I won’t move the ship, there’s nothing she can do about it.”

“You’re not a doctor, true. But you’re a master in space. I guess the “succour & rescue” rule might apply.” “The devil with rules! This is Edith.”

“Well,” Hazel said slowly, “I guess I might stack the Stone family up against the welfare of the entire human race in a pinch, myself. But I can’t decide it for you.”

“I won’t let her do it! It’s not me. There’s Buster – he’s no more than a baby still; he needs his mother.” “Yes, he does.”

“That settles it. I’m going aft and tell her.”

“Wait a minute! If that’s your decision, Captain, you won’t mind me saying that’s the wrong way to do it.” “Eh?”

“The only way you’ll get it past your wife is to get on that computer and come out with the answer you’re looking for. . . an answer that says it’s physically impossible for us to match with them and still reach Mars.”

“Oh. You’re right. Look, will you help me fake it?” “I suppose so.”

“Then let’s get busy.”

“As you say, sir. You know, Roger, if the War God comes in with an unidentified and uncontrolled disease aboard, they’ll never let her make port at Mars. They’ll swing her in a parking orbit, fuel her up again, and send her back at next optimum.”

“What of it? It’s nothing to me if fat tourists and a bunch of immigrants are disappointed.”

“Check. But I was thinking of something else. With Van and the first officer sick, maybe about to check in, if the second officer comes down with it, too, the War God might not even get as far as a parking orbit.”

Roger Stone did not have to have the thought elaborated; a ship approaching a planet, unless manoeuvred at the last by a skilled pilot, can do one of only two things – crash, or swing on past and out endlessly into empty space to take up a comet-like orbit which arrives nowhere ever.

He covered his face with his hands. “What do I do, Mother?” “You are captain, son.”

He sighed. “I suppose I knew it all along.”

“Yes, but you had to struggle with it first.” She kissed him. “Orders, son?” “Let’s get to it. It’s a good thing we didn’t waste any margin in departure.” “That it is.”

When Hazel told the others the news Castor asked, “Does Dad want us to compute a ballistic?” “No.”

“A good thing – for we’ve got to get those bikes inboard, fast! Come on, Pol. Meade, how about suiting up and giving us a hand? Unless Mother needs you?”

“She does,” answered Hazel, “to take care of Lowell and keep him out of the way. But you won’t be bringing the bikes inboard.”

“What? You can’t balance the ship for maneuvers with them where they are. Besides, the first blast would probably snap the wires and change your mass factor.”

“Cas, where are your brains? Can’t you see the situation? We jettison.” “Huh? We throw away our bikes? After dragging almost to Mars?”

“Your bikes, all our books, and everything else we can do without. The rough run-through on the computer made that clear as quartz; it’s the only way we can do this maneuver and still be sure of having a safe margin for homing in. Your father is checking over the weight schedule right now.”

“But -, Castor’s face suddenly relaxed and became impassive. “Aye aye, ma’am.”

The twins were suiting up but had not yet gone outside when Pollux was struck by a notion. “Cas? We cut the bikes loose; then what happens?” “We charge it off to experience – and try to recover from Four-Planets Transit. They won’t pay up, of course.”

“Use your skull. Where do the bikes end up?” “Huh? Why, at Mars!”

“Right. Or pretty near. In the orbit we’re in now, they swing in mighty close and then head down Sunside again. Suppose, on closest approach, we are standing there waiting to snag ’em?”

“Not a chance. It will take us just as long to get to Mars – and in a different orbit, same as the War God’s?

“Yes, but just supposing. You know, I wish I had a spare radar beacon to hang on them. Then if we could reach them, we’d know where they were.”

“Well, we haven’t got one. Say! Where did you put that used reflecting foil?”

“Huh? Oh, I see. Grandpa, sometimes your senile decay is not quite so noticeable.” The Stone had started out, of course, covered on one side of her living quarters by mirror-bright aluminium foil. As she drifted farther and farther from the Sun, reflecting the Sun’s heat had grown less

necessary, absorbing it more desirable. To reduce the load on the ship’s heating and cooling system, square yards of it were peeled up and taken inside to store from week to week.

“Let’s ask Dad.”

Hazel stopped them at the hatch to the control room. “He’s at the computer. What’s the complaint?” “Hazel, the reflecting foil we’ve been salvaging – is it on the jettison list?”

“Certainly. We’ll pick up some more on Mars for the trip back. Why?”

“A radar corner – that’s why!” They explained the plan. She nodded. “A long chance, but it makes sense. See here, wire everything we jettison to the bikes. We might get it all back.”

“Sure thing!” The twins got busy. While Pollux gathered together the bunches of bicycles, all but a few in good repair and brave with new paint. Castor constructed a curious geometrical toy. With 8-gauge wire, aluminium foil, and sticky tape he made a giant square of foil, edged and held flat with wire. This he bisected at right angles with a second square. The two squares he again bisected at the remaining possible right angle with a third square. The result was eight shiny right-angled corners facing among them in all possible directions – a radar reflector. Each corner would bounce radar waves directly back to source, a principle easily illustrated with a rubber ball and any room or box corner. The final result was to step up the effectiveness or radar from an inverse fourth-power law to an inverse square law – in theory, at least. In practice it would be somewhat less than perfectly efficient but the radar response of the assembly would be increased enormously. A mass so tagged would stand out on a radar screen like a candle in a cave.

This flimsy giant kite Castor anchored to the ball of bicycles and other jetsam with an odd bit of string. No stronger link was necessary; out here no vagrant wind would blow it away, no one would cut it loose. “Pol,” he said, “go bang on the port and tell ’em we’re ready.”

Pollux walked forward and did so, rapping on the quartz first to attract his grandmother’s attention, then tapping code to report. While he was gone Castor attached a piece of paper reading:

NOT FOR SALVAGE

This cargo is in free transit by intention. The undersigned owner intends to recover it and warns all parties not to claim it as abandoned. U.P. Rev. Stat. # 193401

Roger Stone, Master

P.Y. Rolling Stone, Luna

When Pollux came back he said, “Hazel says go ahead but take it easy.”

“Of course.” Castor untwisted the single wire that held the ungainly mass to the ship, then stood back and watched it. It did not move. He reached out and gave it the gentlest shove with his little finger, then continued watching. Slowly, slowly it separated from the ship. He wished to disturb its orbit as little as possible, to make it easy to find. The petty vector he had placed on it – an inch a minute was his guess – would act for all the days from there to Mars; he wanted the final sum to remain small.

Pollux twisted around and picked out the winking gleam of the War God. “Will the jet be clear of it when we swing ship?” he asked anxiously. “Quit worrying. I already figured that.”

The maneuver to he performed was of the simplest – point to point in space in a region which could be treated as free of gravity strain since the two ships were practically the same distance from the Sun and Mars was too far away to matter. There were four simple steps: cancellation of the slight vector difference between the two ships (the relative speed with which the War God was puffing away), acceleration toward the War God, transit of the space between them, deceleration to match orbits and lie dead in space relative to each other on arrival.

Steps one and two would be combined by vector addition; step three was simply waiting time. The operation would be two maneuvers, two blasts on the jet.

But step three, the time it would take to reach the War God, could be enormously cut down by lavish use of reactive mass. Had time been no object they could have, as Hazel put it, closed the gap ‘by throwing rocks off the stern.” There was an infinite number of choices, each requiring

different amounts of reactive mass. One choice would have saved the bicycles and their personal possessions – but it would have stretched the

transit time out to over two weeks.

This was a doctor’s emergency call – Roger Stone elected to jettison.

But he did not tell the twins this and he did not require them to work a ballistic. He did not care to let them know of the choice between sacrificing their capital or letting strangers wait for medical attention. After all, he reflected, the twins were pretty young.

Eleven hours from blast time the Stone hung in space close by the War God. The ships were still plunging toward Mars at some sixteen miles per second; relative to each other they were stationary – except that the liner continued her stately rotation, end over end. Dr. Stone, her small figure encumbered not only with space suit, pressure bottles, radio, suit jet, and life lines, but also with a Santa Claus pack of surgical supplies, stood with her husband on the side of the Stone nearest the liner. Not knowing exactly what she might need she had taken all that she believed could be spared from the stock of their own craft -drugs, antibiotics, instruments, supplies.

The others had been kissed good-by inside and told to stay there. Lowell had cried and tried to keep his mother from entering the lock. He had not been told what was going on, but the emotions of the others were contagious.

Roger Stone was saying anxiously, “Now see here, the minute you have this under control, back you come – you hear?” She shook her head. “I’ll see you on Mars, dearest.”

“No indeed! You -”

“No, Roger. I might act as a carrier. We can’t risk it.”

“You might act as a carrier corning back to us on Mars, too. Don’t you ever expect to come back?”

She ignored the rhetorical question. “On Mars there will be hospitals. But I can’t risk a family epidemic in space.” “Edith I’ve a good mind to refuse to-”

“They’re ready for me, dear. See?”

Over their heads, two hundred yards away, a passenger lock on the rotation axis of the mighty ship had opened; two small figures spilled silently out, flipped neatly to boot contact, stood on the ship’s side, their heads pointing ‘down’ at Mr. and Mrs Stone. Roger Stone called into his microphone, “War God!”

“WarGod aye aye!” “Are you ready?” “Whenever you are.” “Stand by for transfer.”

Acting Captain Rowley had proposed sending a man over to conduct Dr. Stone across the gap. She had refused, not wishing to have anyone from the infected ship in contact with the Rolling Stone. Now she said, “Are my lines free for running, Roger?”

“Yes, dearest.” He had bent several lines together, one end to her waist, the other to a padeye. “Will you do my boots, dear?”

He kneeled and unzipped her magnetic boots without speaking, his voice having become uncertain. He straightened and she put her arms around him. They embraced awkwardly, hampered by the suits, hampered by the extra back pack she carried. “Adios, my darling,” she said softly. “Take care of the children.”

“Edith! Take care of yourself!” “Yes, dear. Steady me now.”

He slipped his hands to her hips; she stepped out of the boots, was now held against the ship only by his hands.

“Ready! One! Two!” They crouched down together. “Three!” She jumped straight away from the ship, her lines snaking after her. For long, long seconds she sailed straight out over his head, closing the gap between her and the liner. Presently it became evident that she had not leapt quite straight; her husband got ready to haul her back in.

But the reception committee was ready for the exigency. One of them was swinging a weighted line around his head; he let the end of it swing farther and farther out. As she started to move past the side of the War God he swung it against her safety line; the weighted end wrapped itself around her line. Back at the Rolling Stone Roger Stone snubbed her line and stopped her; the man on the liner gently pulled her in.

The second man caught her and snapped a hook to her belt, then unfastened the long line from the Stone. Before she entered the lock she waved, and the door closed.

Roger Stone looked at the closed door for a moment, then pulled in the line. He let his eyes drop to the pair of little boots left standing empty

beside him. He pulled them loose, held them to him, and plodded back to his own airlock.

II – ASSETS RECOVERABLE

The twins kept out of their father’s way for the next several days. He was unusually tender and affectionate with all of them but he never smiled and his mood was likely to flare suddenly and unexpectedly into anger. They stayed in their bunkroom and pretended to study they actually did study some of the time. Meade and Hazel split the care of Lowell between them; the child’s feeling of security was damaged by the absence of his mother. He expressed it by temper tantrums and demands for attention.

Hazel took over the cooking of lunch and dinner; she was no better at it than Meade. She could be heard twice a day, burning herself and swearing and complaining that she was not the domestic type and never had had any ambitions that way. Never!

Dr. Stone phoned once a day, spoke briefly with her husband, and begged off from speaking to anyone else for the reason that she was much too busy. Roger Stone’s explosions of temper were most likely to occur shortly after these daily calls.

Hazel alone had the courage to quiz him about the calls. On the sixth day at lunch she said, “Well, Roger? What was the news today? Give.” “Nothing much. Hazel, these chops are atrocious.’.

“They ought to be good; I flavored ’em with my own blood.” She held out a bandaged thumb. “Why don’t you try cooking? But back to the subject. Don’t evade me, boy.”

“She thinks she’s on the track of something. So far as she can tell from their medical records, nobody has caught it so far who is known to have had measles.”

Meade said, “Measles? People don’t die of that, do they?”

“Hardly ever,” agreed her grandmother, “though it can be fairly serious in an adult.”

“I didn’t say it was measles,” her father answered testily, “nor did your mother. She thinks it’s related to measles, a mutant strain maybe more virulent.”

“Call it “neomeasles”,” suggested Hazel. “That’s a good question-begging tag and it has an impressive scientific sound to it Any more deaths, Roger?”

“Well, yes.” “How many?”

“She wouldn’t say. Van is still alive, though, and she says that he is recovering. She told me,” he added, as if trying to convince himself, “that she thought she was learning how to treat it.”

“Measles,” Hazel said thoughtfully. “You’ve never had it, Roger.” “No.”

“Nor any of the kids.”

“Of course not,” put in Pollux. Luna City was by long odds the healthiest place in the known universe; the routine childhood diseases of Earth had never been given a chance to establish.

“How did she sound, Son?”

“Dog tired.” He frowned. “She even snapped at me.” “Not Mummy!”

“Quiet, Meade.” Hazel went on, “I’ve had measles, seventy or eighty years ago. Roger, I had better go over and help her.” He smiled without humor. “She anticipated that. She said to tell you thanks but she had all the unskilled help she could use.”

“”Unskilled help!” I like that! Why, during the epidemic of ’93 there were times when I was the only woman in the colony able to change a bed. Hummph!”

Hazel deliberately waited around for the phone call the next day, determined to get a few words at least with her daughter-in-law. The call came in about the usual time; Roger took it. It was not his wife.

“Captain Stone? Turner, sir Charlie Turner. I’m the third engineer. Your wife asked me to phone you.” “What’s the matter? She busy?”

“Quite busy.”

“Tell her to call me as soon as she’s free. I’ll wait by the board.”

“I’m afraid that’s no good, sir. She was quite specific that she would not be calling you today. She won’t have time.” “Fiddlesticks! It will only take her thirty seconds. In a big ship like yours you can hook her in wherever she is.”

The man sounded embarrassed. “I’m sorry, sir. Dr. Stone gave strict orders not to be disturbed.” “But confound it, I -”

“I’m very sorry, sir. Good-by.” He left him sputtering into a dead circuit.

Roger Stone remained quiet for several moments, then turned a stricken face to his mother. “She’s caught it.”

Hazel answered quietly, “Don’t jump to conclusions, Son.” But in her own heart she had already reached the same conclusion. Edith Stone had contracted the disease she had gone to treat.

The same barren stall was given Roger Stone on the following day; by the third day they gave up the pretence. Dr. Stone was ill, but her husband was not to worry. She had already, before she gave into it herself, progressed far enough in standardizing a treatment that all the new cases – hers among them – were doing nicely. So they said.

No, they would not arrange a circuit to her bed. No, he could not talk to Captain Vandenbergh; the Captain was still too ill. “I’m coming over!” Roger Stone shouted.

Turner hesitated. “That’s up to you, Captain. But if you do, we’ll have to quarantine you here. Dr. Stone’s written orders.”

Roger Stone switched off. He knew that that settled it; in matters medical Edith was a Roman judge – and he could not abandon his own ship, his family, to get to Mars by themselves. One frail old woman, two cocksure half-trained student pilots – no, he had to take his ship in.

They sweated it out The cooking got worse, when anyone bothered to cook. It was seven endless, Earth-standard days later when the daily call was answered by, “Roger – hello, darling!”

“Edith! Are you all right?” “Getting that way.”

“What’s your temperature?”

“Now, darling, I won’t have you quack-doctoring me. My temperature is satisfactory, as is the rest of my physical being. I’ve lost a little weight, but I could stand to – don’t you think?”

“No, I don’t. Listen – you come home! You hear me?”

“Roger dearest! I can’t and that’s settled. This entire ship is under quarantine. But how is the rest of my family?” “Oh, shucks, fine, fine! We’re all in the pink.”

“Stay that way. I’ll call you tomorrow. Bye, dear.”

Dinner that night was a celebration. Hazel cut her thumb again, but not even she cared.

The daily calls, no longer a naging worry but a pleasure, continued. It was a week later that Dr. Stone concluded by saying ‘Hold on, dear. A friend of yours wants to speak with you.”

“Okay, darling: Love and stuff – good-by.” “Roger Dodger?” came a bass voice.

“Van! You squareheaded bay window! I knew you were too mean to die.”

“Alive and kicking, thanks to your wonderful wife. But no longer with a bay window; I haven’t had time to regrow it yet” “You will.”

“No doubt. But I was asking the good doctor about something and she couldn’t give me much data. Your department Rog, how did this speed run leave you for single-H? Could you use some g-juice?”

Captain Stone considered it. “Have you any surplus, Captain?”

“A little. Not much for this wagon, but it might be quite a lot for a kiddie cart like yours.”

“We had to jettison, did you know?”

“I know – and I’m sorry. I’ll see that a claim is pushed through promptly. I’d advance it myself, Captain, if alimony on three planets left me anything to advance.”

“Maybe it won’t be necessary.” He explained about the radar reflector. “If we could nudge back into the old groove we just might get together with our belongings.”

Vandenbergh chuckled. “I want to meet those kids of yours again; they appear to have grown up a bit in the last seven years.” “Don’t. They’ll stea! your bridgework. Now about this single-H: how much can you spare?”

“Enough, enough, I’m sure. This caper is worth trying, just for the sport. I’m sure it has never been done before. Never.”

The two ships, perfectly matched to eye and almost so by instrument, nevertheless had drifted a couple. of miles apart while the epidemic in the liner raged and died out. The undetectable gravitational attraction between them gave them mutual escape velocity much less than their tiny residual relative motion. Up to now nothing had been done about it since they were still in the easiest of phone range. But now it was necessary to pump reactive mass from one to the other.

Roger Stone threw a weight fastened to a light messenger line as straight and as far as he could heave. By the time it was slowed to a crawl by the drag of the line a crewman from the War God came out after it on his suit jet, In due course the messenger line brought over a heavier line which was fastened to the smaller ship. Hand power alone took a strain on the line. While the mass of Rolling Stone was enormous by human muscle standards, the vector involved was too small to handle by jet and friction was nil. In warping in a space ship the lack of brakes is a consideration more important than numerous dents to ships and space stations testify.

As a result of that gentle tug, two and a half days later the ships were close enough to permit a fuel hose to be connected between them. Roger and Hazel touched the hose only with wrench and space-suit gauntlet, not enough contact to affect the quarantine even by Dr. Stone’s standards. Twenty minutes later even that connection was broken and the Stone had a fresh supply of jet juice.

And not too soon. Mars was a ruddy gibbous moon, bulging ever bigger in the sky; it was time to prepare to maneuver. “There it is!” Pollux was standing watch on the radar screen; his yelp brought his grandmother floating over.

“More likely a flock of geese,” she commented, “Where?” “Right there. Can’t you see it?”

Hazel grudgingly conceded that the blip might be real. The next several hours were spent in measuring distance, bearing, and relative motion by radar and doppler and in calculating the cheapest maneuver to let them match with the errant bicycles, baggage, and books. Roger Stone took it as easily as he could, being hurried somewhat by the growing nearness of Mars. He finally settled them almost dead in space relative to the floating junk pile, with a slight drift which would bring them within three hundred yards of the mass – so he calculated – at closest approach a few hours hence.

They spent the waiting time figuring the maneuvers to rendezvous with Mars. The Rolling Stone would not, of course, land on Mars but at the port on Phobos. First they must assume an almost circular ellipse around Mars matching with Phobos, then as a final maneuver they must settle the ship on the tiny moon – simple maneuvers made fussy by one thing only; Phobos has a period of about ten hours; the Stone would have to arrive not only at the right place with the right speed and direction, but also at the right time. After the bicycles were taken aboard the ship would have to be nursed along while still fairly far out if she were to fall to an exact rendezvous.

Everybody worked on it but Buster, Meade working under Hazel’s tutelage. Pollux continued to check by radar their approach to their cargo. Roger Stone had run through and discarded two trial solutions and was roughing out another which, at last, seemed to be making sense when Pollux announced that his latest angulation of the radar data showed that they were nearly as close as they would get.

His father unstrapped himself and floated to a port. “Where is it? Good heavens, we’re practically sitting on it. Let’s get busy, boys.” “I’m coming, too,” announced Hazel.

“Me, too!” agreed Lowell.

Meade reached out and snagged him. “That’s what you think, Buster. You and Sis are going to play a wonderful game called, “What’s for dinner?” Have fun, folks.” She headed aft, towing the infant against his opposition.

Outside the bicycles looked considerably farther away. Cas glanced at the mass and said. “Maybe I ought to go across on my suit jet, Dad? It would save time.”

“I strongly doubt it. Try the heaving line, Pol.” Pollux snapped the light messenger line to a padeye. Near the weighted end had been fastened a half a dozen large hooks fashioned of 6-gauge wire. His first heave seemed to be strong enough but it missed the cluster by a considerable margin,

“Let me have it, Pol,” Castor demanded.

“Let him be,” ordered their father. “So help me, this is the last time I’m going into space without a proper line-throwing gun. Make note of that,

Cas. Put it on the shopping list when we go inside.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

The second throw was seen to hit the mass, but when Pol heaved in the line came away, the hooks having failed to catch. He tried again. This time the floating line came taut.

“Easy, now!” his father cautioned. “We don’t want a bunch of bikes in our lap. There – “vast heaving. She’s started.” They waited.

Castor became impatient and suggested that they give the line another tug. His father shook his head. Hazel added, “I saw a green hand at the space station try to hurry a load that way. Steel plate, it was.”

“What happened?”

“He had started it with a pull; he thought he could stop it with a shove. They had to amputate both legs but they saved his life.” Castor shut up.

A few minutes later the disorderly mass touched down, bending a handlebar of one bike that got pinched but with no other damage. The twins and Hazel swarmed over the mass, working free on their safety lines and clicking on with their boots only to pass bicycles into the hold, where Roger Stone stowed them according to his careful mass distribution schedule.

Present!y Pollux came across Castor’s ‘Not for Salvage’ warning. “Hey, Cas! Here’s your notice.” “It’s no good now.” Nevertheless he accepted it and glanced at it. Then his eyes snapped wider. An endorsement had been added at the bottom:

“Sez you!

‘The Galactic Overlord.”

Captain Stone came out to investigate the delay, took the paper and read it. He looked at his mother. “Hazel!” “Me? Why, I’ve been right here in plain sight the whole time. How could I have done it?”

Stone crumpled the paper. “I do not believe in ghosts, inside straights, nor “Galactic Overlords.”“

If Hazel did it, no one saw her and she never admitted it. She persisted in the theory that the Galactic Overlord wasn’t really dead after all. To prove it, she revived him in her next episode.

– PHOBOS PORT

Mars has two ready-made space stations, her two tiny, close-in moons – Phobos and Deimos, the dogs of the War God, Fear and Panic. Deimos is a jagged, ragged mass of rock; a skipper would he hard put to find a place to put down a ship. Phobos was almost spherical and fairly smooth as we found her; atomic power has manicured her into one big landing field all around her equator – a tidying-up that may have been over hasty; by one very plausible theory the Martian ancients used her themselves as a space station. The proof, if such there be, may lie buried under the slag of Phobos port.

The Rolling Stone slid inside the orbit of Deimos, blasted as she approached the orbit of Phobos and was matched in with Phobos, following an almost identical orbit around Mars only a scant five miles from that moon. She was falling now, falling around Mars but falling toward Phobos, for no vector had been included as yet to prevent that. The fall could not be described as a headlong plunge; at this distance, one radius of Phobos, the moon attracted the tiny mass of the spaceship with a force of less than three ten-thousandths of one Earth surface gravity. Captain Stone had

ample time in which to calculate a vector which would let him land; it would take the better part of an hour for the Stone to sink to the surface of the satellite.

However, he had chosen to do it the easy way, through outside help. The jet of the Rolling Stone, capable of blasting at six gravities, was almost too much of a tool for the thin gravity field of a ten-mile rock – like swatting a fly with a pile-driver. A few minutes after they had ceased blasting, a small scooter rocket up from Phobos matched with them and anchored to their airlock.

The spacesuited figure who swam in removed his helmet and said, “Permission to board, sir? Jason Thomas, port pilot – you asked for pilot-and- tow?”

“That’s right, Captain Thomas.”

“Just call me Jay. Got your mass schedule ready?”

Roger Stone gave it to him; he look it over while they looked him over. Meade thought privately that he looked more like a bookkeeper than a dashing spaceman – certainly nothing like the characters in Hazel’s show. Lowell stared at him gravely and said, “Are you a Martian, Mister?”

The port pilot answered him with equal gravity. “Sort of, son.” “Then where’s your other leg?”

Thomas looked startled, but recovered. “I guess I’m a cut-rate Martian.”

Lowell seemed doubtful but did not pursue the point. The port official returned the schedule and said, “Okay, Captain. Where are your outside control-circuit jacks?”

“Just forward of the lock. The inner terminals are here on the board.”

“Be a few minutes.” He went back outside, moving very rapidly. He was back inside in less than ten minutes. “That’s all the time it took you to mount auxiliary rockets?” Roger Stone asked incredulously.

“Done it a good many times. Gets to be a routine. Besides, I’ve got good boys working with me.” Quickly he plugged a small portable control board to the jacks pointed out to him earlier, and tested his controls. “All set.” He glanced at the radar screen. “Nothing to do but loaf for a bit You folks immigrating?”

“Not exactly. It’s more of a pleasure trip.”

“Now ain’t that nice! Though it beats me what pleasure you expect to find on Mars.” He glanced out the port where the reddish curve of Mars pushed up into the black.

“We’ll do some sightseeing I expect”

“More to see in the State of Vermont than on this whole planet I know.” He looked around. “This your whole family?” “All but my wife.” Roger Stone explained the situation.

“Oh, yes! Read about it in the daily War Cry. They got the name of your ship wrong, though.”

Hazel snorted in disgust ‘Newspapers!”

Yes, mum. I put the War God down just four hours ago. Berths 32 & 33. She’s in quarantine, though.” He pulled out a pipe ‘You folks got static precipitation?”

Yes,” agreed Hazel. “Go ahead and smoke, young man.”

“Thanks on both counts.” He made almost a career of getting it lighted; Pollux began to wonder when he intended to figure his ballistic.

But Jason Thomas did not bother even to glance at the radar screen; instead he started a long and meandering story about his brother-in-law

back Earthside. It seemed that this connection of his had tried to train a parrot to act as an alarm clock.

The twins knew nothing of parrots and cared less. Castor began to get worried. Was this moron going to crash the Stone? He began to doubt that Thomas was a pilot of any sort. The story ambled on and on. Thomas interrupted him-self to say, “Better hang on, everybody. And somebody ought to hold the baby.”

“I’m not a baby,” Lowell protested.

“I wish I was one, youngster.” His hand sought his control panel as Hazel gathered Lowell in. “But the joke of the whole thing was – A deafening rumble shook the ship, a sound somehow more earsplitting than their own jet. It continued for seconds only, as it died Thomas continued triumphantly:

the bird never did learn to tell time. Thanks, folks. The office’ll bill you.” He stood up with a catlike motion, slid across or without lifting his feet ‘Glad to have met you. G’bye!”

They were down on Phobos.

Pollux got up from where he had sprawled on the deck-plates – and bumped his head on the overhead. After that he tried to walk like Jason Thomas. He had weight, real weight, for the first time since Luna, but it amounted to only two ounces in his clothes. “I wonder how high I can jump here?” he said.

“Don’t try it,” Hazel advised. “Remember the escape velocity of this piece of real estate is only sixty-six feet a second.” “I don’t think a man could jump that fast”

“There was Ole Gunderson. He dived right around Phobos – a free circular orbit thirty-five miles long. Took him eighty-five minutes. He’d have been traveling yet. If they hadn’t grabbed as he came back around.”

“Yes, but wasn’t he an Olympic jumper or something? And didn’t he have to have a special rack or some such to take off from?”

“You wouldn’t have to jump,” Castor put in. “Sixty-six feet a second is forty-five miles an hour, so the circular speed comes out a bit more than thirty miles an hour. A man can run twenty miles an hour back home, easy. He could certainly get up to forty-five here.”

Pollux shook tiis head. “No traction.”

“Special spiked shoes and maybe a tangent launching ramp for the last hundred yards – then woosh! off the end and you’re gone for good.” “Okay, you try it, Grandpa. I’ll wave good-by to you.”

Roger Stone whistled loudly. “Quiet, please! If you armchair athletes are quite through, I have an announcement to make.” “Do we go groundside now, Dad?”

“Not if you don’t quit interrupting me. I’m going over to the War God. Anyone who wants to come along, or wishes to take a stroll outside, may do so – just as long as you settle the custody of Buster among you. Wear your boots; I understand they have steel strip walkways for the benefit of transients.”

Pollux was the first one suited up and into the lock, where he was surprised to find the rope ladder still rolled up. He wondered about Jason Thomas and decided that he must have jumped. . . a hundred-odd feet of drop wouldn’t hurt a man’s arches here. But when he opened the outer door he discovered that it was quite practical to walk straight down the side of the ship like a fly on a wall. He had heard of this but had not quite believed it, not on a planet . . . well, a moon.

The others followed him, Hazel carrying Lowell. Roger Stone stopped when they were down and looked around. “I could have sworn,” he said with a puzzled air, “that I spotted the War God not very far east of us just before we landed.”

“There is something sticking up over there,” Castor said, pointing north. The object was a rounded dome swelling up above the extremely near horizon – an horizon only two hundred yards away for Castor’s height of eye: The dome looked enormous but it grew rapidly smaller as they approached it and finally got it entirely above the horizon. The sharp curvature of the little globe played tricks on them; it was so small that it was possible to see that it was curved, but the habit of thinking of anything over the horizon as distant stayed with them.

Before they reached the dome they encountered one of the steel walking strips running across their path, and on it a man. He was spacesuited as they were and was carrying with ease a large coil of steel line, a hand-powered winch, and a ground anchor with big horns. Roger Stone stopped him. “Excuse me, friend but could you tell me the way to the R.S. War God? Berths thirty-two and -three, I believe she is.”

Off east there. Just follow this strip about five miles; you’ll raise her. Say, are you from the Rolling Stone?” “Yes. I’m her master. My name’s Stone, too.”

“Glad to know you, Captain. I’m just on my way out to respot your ship. You’ll find her in berth thirteen, west of here when you come back.”

The twins looked curiously at the equipment he was carrying. “Just with that?” asked Castor, thinking of the ticklish problem it had been to move

the Stone on Luna.

“Did you leave your gyros running?” asked the port jockey. “Yes,” answered Captain Stone.

“I won’t have any trouble. See you around.” He headed out to the ship. The family party turned east along the strip; the traction afforded by their boot magnets against steel made much easier walking. Hazel put Lowell down and let him run.

They were walking toward Mars, a great arc of which filled much of the eastern horizon. The planet rose appreciably as they progressed; like Earth in the Lunar sky Mars never rose nor set for any particular point of the satellite’s surface – but they were moving over the curve of Phobos so rapidly that theff own walking made it rise. About a mile farther along Meade spotted the bow of the War God silhouetted against the orange-red face of Mars. They hurried, but it was another three miles before they had her in sight down. to her fins.

At last they reached her – to find a temporary barrier of line and posts around her and signs prominently displayed: “WARNING! – QUARANTINE – no entrance by order of Phobos Port Authority.”

I can t read,” said Hazel.

Roger Stone pondered it ‘The rest of you stay here, or go for a walk – whatever you please. I’m going in. Mind you stay off the field proper.” “Shucks,” answered Hazel, “there’s plenty of time to see a ship coming in and run for it, the way they float in here. That’s all the residents do. But

don’t you want me to come with you, boy?”

“No its my pidgin.” He left them at the barrier, went toward the liner. They waited. Hazel passed the time by taking a throat lozenge from her gun and popping it in through her mouth valve; she gave one to Lowell. Presently they saw Roger walk up the side of the ship to a view port. He stayed there quite a whlle, then walked down again.

When he got back to them his face was stormy. Hazel said ‘No go, I take it?”

“None at all. Oh, I saw Van and he rapped out some irrelevant insults. But he did let me see Edith – through the port” “How did she look?”

“Wonderful, just wonderful! A little bit thinner perhaps, but not much. She blew a kiss for all of you.” He paused and frowned. “But I can’t get in and I can’t get her out.”

“You can’t blame Van,” Hazel pointed out. “It would mean his ticket.” “I’m not blaming anybody! I’m just mad, that’s all.”

“Well, what next?”

He thought about it. “The rest of you do what you like for the next hour or so. I’m going to the administration building – it’s that dome back there. I’ll meet you all at the ship – berth thirteen.”

The twins elected to walk on east while Meade and Hazel returned at once to the ship Buster was getting restless. The boys wanted a really good look at Mars. They had watched it through the Stone‘s ports, of course, on the approach – but this was different. . . more real, somehow – not framed like a television shot. Three more miles brought all of it in sight, or all of it that was illuminated, for the planet was in half phase to them, the Sun being at that point almost overhead.

They studied the ruddy orange deserts, the olive green fertile stretches, the canals stretching straight as truth across her fiat landscape. The south polar cap was tipped slightly toward them; it had almost disappeared. Facing them was the great arrowhead of Syrtis Major.

They agreed that it was beautiful, almost as beautiful as Luna – more beautiful perhaps than Earth in spite of Earth’s spectacular and always changing cloud displays. But after a while they grew bored with it and headed back to the ship.

They found berth thirteen without trouble and walked up into the ship. Meade had dinner ready; Hazel was playing with Buster. Their father came in just as they were ready to eat. “You,” announced Hazel, “looked as if you had bribed a chair-warmer.”

“Not quite.” He hesitated, then said, “I’m going into quarantine with Edith. I’ll come out when she does.” “But Daddy -” protested Meade.

“I’m not through. While I’m gone Hazel takes command. She is also head of this family.” “I always have been,” Hazel said smugly.

“Please, Mother. Boys, if she finds it necessary to break your arms, please be advised that the action is authorised in advance. You understand me?”

“Yes sir. – “Aye aye, sir.”

“Good. I’m going to pack now and leave.”

“But Daddy!” Meade objected, almost in tears, “aren’t you going to wait for dinner?”

He stopped and smiled. “Yes, sugar pie. You are getting to be a good cook, did you know?”

Castor glanced at Pollux, then said, “Uh, Dad, let me get this straight We are simply to wait here in the ship – on this under-sized medicine ball until you and Mother get out of hock?”

“Why, yes – no, that isn’t really necessary. I simply hadn’t thought about it. If Hazel is willing, you can close down the ship and go down to Mars. Phone us your address and we’ll join you there. Yes, I guess that’s the best scheme.”

The twins sighed with relief.

IV – “WELCOME TO MARS!”

Roger Stone promptly caught the epidemic disease and had to be nursed through it – and thereby extended the quarantine time It gave the twins that much more time in which to exercise their talent for trouble. The truncated family went from Phobos down to Marsport by shuttle – not the sort of shuttle operating between Pikes Peak and Earth’s station, but little glider rockets hardly more powerful than the ancient German war rockets. Mars’ circular-orbit speed is only a trifle over two miles per second.

Nevertheless the fares were high . . . and so were freight charges The twins had unloaded their cargo, moved it to the freight lots between the customs shed and the administration building and arranged for it to follow them down, all before they boarded the shuttle. They had been horrified when they were presented with the bill – payable in advance. It had come to more than the amount they had paid their father for the added ship’s costs of boosting the bicycles all the way to Mars.

Castor was still computing their costs and possible profits as the five Stones were strapping down for the trip down to Marsport. “Pol, he said fretfully, “we’d better by a darn sight get a good price for those bikes.”

“We will, Grandpa, we will. They’re good bikes.”

The thuttle swooped to a landing on the Grand Canal and was towed into a slip, rocking gently the while. The twins were glad to climb out; they had never before been in a water-borne vehicle and it seemed to them an undependable if not outright dangerous mode of travel. The little ship was unsealed with a soft sigh and they were breathing the air of Mars. It was thin but the pressure was not noticeably lower than that they had maintained in the Rolling Stone – a generation of the atmosphere project had made skin suits and respirators unnecessary. It was not cold; the Sun was right at the zenith. Meade sniffed as she climbed to the dock. “What’s the funny smell, Hazel?”

“Fresh air. Odd stuff, isn’t it? Come on, Lowell.” They all went inside the Hall of Welcome, that being the only exit. from the dock. Hazel looked around, spotted a desk marked ‘Visas’ and headed for it. “Come on, kids Let’s stick together.”

The clerk looked over their papers as if he had never seen anything of the sort before and didn’t want to now. “You had your physical examinations at Phohos port?” he said doubtfully.

“See for yourself. They’re all endorsed.”

“Well. . . you don’t have your property declaration filled out for immigration.” “We’re not imrnjgrants; we’re visitors.”

“Why didn’t you say so? You haven’t posted a bond; all terrestrial citizens have to post bonds.”

Pollux looked at Castor and shook his head. Hazel counted up to ten and replied, “We’re not terrestrials; we’re citizens of Luna Free State – and entitled to full reciprocity under the treaty of ’07. Look it up and see.”

“Oh.’. The clerk looked baffled and endorsed and stamped their papers. He stuck them in the stat machine, then handed them back. “That’ll be five pounds.”

“Five pounds?”

“Pounds Martian, of course. If you apply for citizenship it’s returnable.”

Hazel counted it out. Pollux converted the figure into System credit in his head and swore under his breath; he was beginning to think that Mars was the Land of the Fee. The clerk. recounted the money, then reached for a pile of pamphlets, handed them each one. “Welcome to Mars,” he said, smiling frigidly. “I know you’ll like it here.”

“I was beginning to wonder,” Hazel answered, accepting a pamphlet “Eh?”

“Never mind. Thank you.”

They turned away. Castor glanced at his pamphlet; it was titled:

WELCOME TO MARS! ! !

Compliments of the Marsport

Chamber of Commerce &

Booster Club

He skimmed the table of contents: What to See – Where to Eat – And Now to Sleep – “When in Rome-” – In Ancient Times – Souvenirs? of course – Business Opportunities – Facts & Figures about Marsport, Fastest Growing City in the System.

The inside, he found, contained more advertising space than copy. None of the pictures were stereo. Still, it was free; he stuck it in his pouch. They had not gotten more than ten steps away when the clerk suddenly called out, “Hey! Madam! Just a moment, please-comeback!”

Hazel turned around and advanced on him, her mouth set grimly. “What’s biting you, bub?” He pointed to her holster. “That gun. You can’t wear that – not in the city limits.”

“I can’t, eh?” She drew it, opened the charge chamber, and offered it to him with a sudden grin. “Have a cough drop?”

A very pleasant lady at the Travellers’ Aid desk, after determining that they really did not want to rent an ancient Martian tower believed to be at least a million years old but sealed and airconditioned nevertheless, made out for them a list of housekeeping apartments for rent. Hazel had vetoed going to any of the tourist hotels even for one night, after telephoning three and getting their rates. They tramped through a large part of the city, searching. There was no public transit system; many of the inhabitants used powered roller skates, most of them walked. The city was laid out in an oblong checkerboard with the main streets parallel to the canal. Except for a few remaining pressurised domes in ‘Old Town’ the buildings were all one-storey prefabricated boxlike structures without eaves or windows, all of depressing monotony.

The first apartment turned out to be two little stalls in the back of a private home – share refresher with family. The second was large enough but was in sniffing range of a large plastics plant; one of its exhalations seemed to be butyl mersaptan though Hazel insisted it put her more in mind of a dead goat The third – but none of them approached the standard of comfort they had enjoyed on the Moon, nor even that of the Rolling Stone.

Hazel came out of the last one they had jooked at, jumped back suddenly to keep from being run over by a delivery boy pulling a large hand truck, caught her breath and said, “What’ll it be, children? Pitch a tent, or go back up to the Stone?”

Pollux protested, “But we can’t do that We’ve got to sell our bicycles.”

“Shut up, Junior,” his brother told him ‘Hazel, I thought there was one more? “Casa” something?”

“Casa Mañana Apartments, way out south along the canal – and likely no better than the rest Okay, troops, mush on!”

The buildings thinned out and they saw some of the heliotropic Martian vegetation, spreading greedy hands to the Sun. Lowell began to complain at the walk. “Carry me, Grandma Hazel!”

“Nothing doing, pet,” she said emphatically, “your legs are younger than mine.” Meade stopped. “My feet hurt, too.”

“Nonsense! This is just a shade over one-third gravity.”

“Maybe so, but it’s twice what it is back home and we’ve been in free fall for half a year and more. Is it much farther?” “Sissy!”

The twins’ feet hurt, too, but they would not admit it They alternated taking Buster piggy-back the rest of the way. Casa Mañana turned out to be quite new and, by their suddenly altered standards, acceptable. The walls were of compacted sand, doubled against the bitter nights; the roof was of sheet metal sandwich with glass-wool core for insulation. It was a long, low building which made Hazel think of chicken coops but she kept the thought to herself. It had no windows but there were sufficient glow tubes and passable air ducting.

The apartment which the owner and manager showed to them consisted of two tiny cubicles, a refresher, and a general room. Hazel looked them over. “Mr. d’Avril, don’t you have something a bit larger?”

“Well, yes, ma’am, I do – but I hate to rent larger ones to such a small family with the tourist season just opening up: I’ll bring in a cot for the youngster.”

She explained that two more adults would be coming. He considered this. “You dbn’t know how long the War God will be quarantined? “Not the slightest”

“Then why don’t we play that hand after it’s dealt? We’ll accomodate you somehow; that’s a promise.” Hazel decided to close the deal; her feet were killing her. “How much?”

“Four hundred and fifty a month – four and a quarter if you take a lease for the whole season.”

At first Hazel was too surprised to protest She had not inquired rents at the other places since she had not considered renting them. “Pounds or credits?” she said feebly.

“Why, pounds, of course.”

“See here, I don’t want to buy this du – this place. I just want to use it for a while.”

Mr. d’Avril looked hurt. “You needn’t do either one, ma’am. With ships arriving every day now I’ll have my pick of tenants. My prices are considered very reasonable. The Property Owner’s Association has tried to get me to up ’em – and that’s a fact”

Hazel dug into her memory to recall how to compare a hotel price with a monthly rental – add a zero to the daily rate; that was it Why, the man must be telling the truth! – if the hotel rates she had gotten were any guide. She shook her head. “I’m just a country girl, Mr. d’Avril. How much did this place cost to build?”

Again he looked hurt ‘You’re not looking at it properly, ma’am. Every so often we have a big load of tourists dumped on us. They stay awhile, then they go away and we have no rent coming in at all. And you’d be surprised how these cold nights nibble away at a house. We can’t build the way the Martians could.”

Hazel gave up. “Is that season discount you mentioned good from now to Venus departure?”

“Sorry, ma’am. It has to be the whole season.” The next favorable time to shape an orbit for Venus was ninety-six Earth-standard days away – ninety-four Mars days – whereas the ‘whole season’ ran for the next fifteen months, more than half a Martian year before Earth and Mars would again be in a position to permit a minimum-fuel orbit.

“We’ll take it by the month. May I borrow your stylus? I don’t have that much cash on me.”

Hazel felt better after dinner. The Sun was down and the night would soon be too bitter for any human not in a heated suit, but inside Casa Mañana it was cozy, even though cramped. Mr. d’Avril, for an extra charge only mildly extortionate, had consented to plug in television for them and Hazel was enjoying for the first time in months one of her own shows. She noted that they had rewritten it in New York, as usual, and, again as usual, she found the changes no improvement. But she could recognise some of the dialogue and most of the story line.

That Galactic Overlord – he was a baddy, he was! Maybe she should kill him off again.

They could try to find a cheaper place tomorrow. At least as long as the show kept up its audience rating the family wouldn’t starve, but she hated to think of Roger’s face when he heard what rent he was paying. Mars! All right to visit, maybe, but no place to live. She frowned.

The twins were whispering in their own cubicle about some involved financial dealing; Meade was knitting quietly and watching the screen. She caught Hazel’s expression. “What were you thinking about, Grandmother?”

“I know what she’s thinking about!” announced Lowell.

“If you do, keep it to yourself. Nothing much, Meade – that pipsqueak clerk. Imagine the nerve of him, saying I couldn’t pack a gun!”

– FREE ENTERPRISE

The twins started out to storm the marts of trade next morning after breakfast Hazel cautioned them. “Be back in time for dinner. And try not to commit any capital crimes.”

“What are they here?”

“Um, let me see. Abandonment without shelter. . . pollution of the water supply . . . violation of treaty regulations with the natives – I think. that’s about all.”

“Murder?”

“Killing is largely a civil matter here – but they stick you for the prospective earnings of your victim for whatever his life expectancy was. Expensive. Very expensive, if the prices we’ve run into are any guide. Probably leave you indentured the rest of your life.”

“Hmm – We’ll be careful. Take note of that, Pol. Don’t kill anybody.” “You take note of it. You’re the one with the bad temper.”

“Back sharp at six, boys. Have you adjusted your watches?”

“Pol slowed his down; I’m leaving mine on Greenwich rate.” “Sensible.”

“Pol!” put in Lowell. “Cas! Take me along!” “Can’t. do it, sprout. Business.”

“Take me! I want to see a Martian. Grandma Hazel, when am I going to. see a Martian?”

She hesitated. Ever since an unfortunate but instructive incident forty years earlier a prime purpose of the planetary government had been to keep humans as far away from the true Martians as possible – tourists most especially. Lowell had less chance of getting his wish than a European child visiting Manhattan would have of seeing an American Indian. “Well, Lowell, it’s like this -The twins left hastily, not wishing to be drawn into what was sure to be a fruitless debate.

They soon found the street catering to the needs of prospectors. They picked a medium-sized shop displaying the sign of Angelo & Sons, Ltd., General Outfitters, which promised ‘Bed-rolls, Geiger Counters, Sand Cycles, Assaying Service, Black-Light Lamps, Firearms, Hardware- Ironmongery – Ask for It; We’ve Got It or Can Get It’.

Inside they found a single shopkeeper leaning against a counter while picking his teeth and playing with something that moved on the counter top. Pollux glanced curiously at it; aside from the fact that it was covered with fur and seemed to be roughly circular, he could not make out what it was. Some sort of Martian dingus probably. He would investigate later – business first.

The shopkeeper straightened up and remarked with professional cheer, “Good morning, gentlemen. Welcome to Mars.” “How did you know?” asked Castor.

“Know what?”

“That we had just gotten here.”

“Eh? That’s hard to say. You’ve still got some free fall in your walk and – oh, I don’t know. Little things that add up automatically. You get to know.”

Pollux shot Castor a glance of warning; Castor nodded. This man’s ancestors, he realised subconsciously, had plied the Mediterranean, sizing up customers, buying cheap and selling dear. “You’re Mr. Angelo?”

“I’m Tony Angelo. Which one did you want?”

“Uh, no one in particular, Mr. Angelo. We were just looking around.” “Help yourselves. Looking for souvenirs?”

“Well, maybe.”

“How about this?” Mr. Angelo reached into a box behind him and pulled out a battered face mask. “A sandstorm mask with the lenses pitted by the sands of Mars. You can hang it up in your parlor and tell a real thiller about how it got that way and how lucky you are to be alive. It won’t add much to your baggage weight allowance and I can let you have it cheap – I’d have to replace the lenses before I could sell it to the trade.”

Pollux was beginning to prowl the stock, edging towards the bicycles; Castor decided that he should keep Mr. Angelo engaged while his brother picked up a few facts, “Well, I don’t know,” he replied. “I wouldn’t want to tell a string of lies about it”

“Not Lies, just creative storytelling. After all, it could have happened – it did happen to the chap that wore it; I know him. But never mind.” He put the mask back. “I’ve got some honest-to-goodness Martian gems, only K’Raath HimseIf knows how old – but they are very expensive. And I’ve got some others that can’t be told from the real ones except in a laboratory under polarised light; they come from New Jersey and aren’t expensive at all. What’s your pleasure?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Castor repeated, “Say Mr. Angelo, what is this? At first I thought it was a fur cap; now I see its alive” Castor pointed to the furry heap on the counter. It was slowly slithering toward the edge.

The shopkeeper reached out and headed it back to the middle. “That? That’s a “flat cat”.” “”Flat cat?”“

“It has a Latin name but I never bothered to learn it.” Angelo tickled it with a forefinger; it began to purr like a high-pitched buzzer. It had no discernible features, being merely a pie-shaped mass of sleek red fur a little darker than Castor’s own hair. “They’re affectionate little things and many of the sand rats keep them for pets – a man has to have someone to talk to when he’s out prospecting and a flat cat is better than a wife because it can’t talk back. It just purrs and snuggles up to you. Pick it up.”

Castor did so, trying not seem gingerly about it The flat cat promptly plastered itself to Castor’s shirt, fattened its shape a little to fit better the crook of the boy’s arm, and changed its purr to a low throbbing which Castor could feel vibrate in his chest. He looked down and three beady little eyes stared trust-fully back up at him, then closed and disappeared completely. A little sigh interrupted the purrs and the creature snuggled closer.

Castor chuckled ‘It is like a cat, isn’t it? “Except that it doesn’t scratch. Want to buy it?”

Castor hesitated. He found himself thinking of Lowell’s anxiety to see a ‘real Martian’. Well, this was a ‘Martian’, wasn’t it? A sort of a Martian. “I wouldn’t know how to take care of it”

“No trouble at all. In the first place they’re cleanly little heasties – no problem that way. And they’ll eat anything; they love garbage. Feed it every week or so and let it have all the water it will take every month or six weeks – it doesn’t matter really; if it isn’t fed or watered it just slows down until it is. Doesn’t hurt a bit And you don’t even have see that it keeps warm. Let me show you.” He reached out and took the flat cat back, jiggled it in his hand. It promptly curled up into a ball.

“See that? Like everything else on Mars, it can wrap itself up when the weather is bad. A real survivor type.” The shopkeeper started to mention another of its survival characteristics, then decided it had no bearing on the transaction. “How about it? I’ll make you a good price.”

Castor decided that Lowell would love it – and besides, it was a legitimate business expense, chargeable to good will. “How much?”

Angelo hesitated, trying to estimate what the traffic would bear, since a flat cat on Mars had roughly the cash value of still another kitten on a Missouri farm. Still, the boys must be rich or they wouldn’t be here – just in and with spending money burning holes in their pockets, no doubt Business had been terrible lately anyhow. “A pound and a half,” he said firmly.

Castor was surprised at how reasonable the price was. “That seems like quite a lot,” he said automatically. Angelo shrugged. “It likes you. Suppose we say a pound?”

Castor was again surprised, this time at the speed and the size of the mark-down. “I don’t know,” he murmured. “Well. . . ten per cent off for cash.”

Out of the corner of his eye Castor could see that Pollux had finished inspecting the rack of bicycles and was coming back. He decided to clear the decks and establish that good will, if possible, before Pol got down to business. “Done.” He fished out a pound note, received his change, and picked up the flat cat ‘Come to papa, Fuzzy Britches.” Fuzzy Britches came to papa, snuggled up and purred.

Pollux came back, stared at the junior Martian. “What in the world?” “Meet the newest member of the family. We just bought a flat cat”

“We?” Pollux started to protest that it was no folly of his, but caught the warning in Castor’s eye in time. “Uh, Mr. Angelo, I don’t see any prices marked?”

The shopkeeper nodded. “That’s right The sand rats like to haggle and we accommodate them. It comes to the same thing in the long run. We always settle at list: they know it and we know it, but it’s part of their social life. A prospector doesn’t get much.”

“That Raleigh Special over there – what’s the list on it?” Pollux had picked it because it looked very much like the sand-cycle their father had delivered for them to Captain Vandenbergh when he had gone into quarantine.

“You. want to buy that bike?”

Castor shook his head a sixteenth of an inch; Pollux answered, “Well, no, I was just pricing it. I couldn’t take it Sunside. you know.”

“Well, seeing that there are no regular customers around, I’ll tell you. List is three hundred and seventy-five – and a bargain!”

“Whew! That seems high.”

“A bargain. She’s a real beauty. Try any of the other dealers.”

“Mr. Angelo,” Castor said carefully, “suppose I offered to sell you one just like it, not new but reconditioned as good as new and looking new, for just half that?”

“Eh? I’d probably say you were crazy”

“I mean it I’ve got it to sell. You might as well have the benefit of the low price as one of your competitors, I’m not going to offer it retail; this is for dealers.”

“Mmm. . . you didn’t come in here to buy souvenirs, did you?” “No, sir.”

“If you had come to me with that proposition four months ago, and could have backed it up, I’d have jumped at it. Now. . . well, no.” “Why not? it’s a good bike I’m offering you. A real bargain.”

“I’m not disputing it.” He reached out and stroked the flat cat. “Shucks, it can’t hurt anything to tell you why. Come along.”

He led them into the rear, past shelves crammed with merchandise, and on out behind the store. He waved a hand at stacks of merchandise that looked all too familiar. “See that? Second-hand bikes. That shed back there is stuffed with ’em; that’s why I’ve got these stored in the open.”

Castor tried to keep surprise and dismay out of his voice. “So you’ve got secoud-hand bikes,” he said, “all beat-up and sand pitted. I’ve got second-hand bikes that look like new and will wear like new – and I can sell them cheaper than you can sell these, a lot cheaper. Don’t you want to bid on them, at least?”

Angelo shook his head. “Brother, I admit that I didn’t take you for a jobber. But I have bad news for you. You can’t sell them to me; you can’t sell them to my competitors; you can’t sell them anywhere.”

“Why not?”

“Because there aren’t any retail customers.” “Huh?”

“Haven’t you heard of the Hallelujah Node? Didn’t you notice I didn’t have any customers? Three fourths of the sand rats on Mars are swarming into town – but they’re not buying, leastwise not bicycles. They’re stocking up for the Asteroids and kicking in together to charter ships. That’s why I have used bikes; I had to take them back on chattel mortgages -and that’s why you can’t sell bikes. Sorry – I’d like to do business with you.”

The twins had heard of the Hallelujah, all right – the news bad reached them in space: a strike of both uranium and core metal out in the Asteroids. But they had given it only intellectual attention, the Asteroids no longer figuring into their plans.

“Two of my brothers have already gone,” Angelo went on, “and I might give it a whirl myself if I weren’t stuck with the store. But I’d close and reopen as strictly a tourist trap if I could unload my present stock. That’s how bad things are.”

They crept out into the street as soon as they could do so gracefully. Pollux looked at Castor. “Want to buy a bicycle, sucker?” “Thanks, I’ve got one. Want to buy a flat cat?”

“Not likely. Say, let’s go over to the receiving dock. If any tourists are coming in, we might find another sucker to unload that thing on. We might even show a small profit – on flat cats, that is.”

“No, you don’t. Fuzzy Britches is for Buster – that’s settled. But let’s go over anyway; our bikes might be down.” “Who Ceres?”

“I do. Even if we can’t sell them, we can ride a couple of them. My feet hurt.”

Their shipment was not yet down from Phobos but it was expected about an hour hence. They stopped in the Old Southern Dining Room & Soda Fountain across from the Hall of Welcome. There they nursed sodas, petted Fuzzy Britches, and considered their troubles. “I don’t mind losing the money so much –“ Castor started in.

“I do!”

“Well, so do I. But what really hurts is the way Dad will laugh when he finds out. And what he’ll say.” “Not to mention Hazel.”

“Yes, Hazel. Junior, weve just got to figure out some way of picking up some money before we have to tell them.”

“With what? Our capital is gone. And Dad wouldn’t let us touch any more of our money even if he were here – which he isn’t.” “Then it has to be a way without capital.”

“Not many. Not for real money.”

“Hazel makes plenty credits without capital.”

“You aren’t suggesting that we write a television serial?” Pollux sounded almost shocked. “Of course not. We don’t have a customer for one. But there must be a way. Start thinking.”

After a glum silence Pollux said, “Grandpa, did you notice that announcement in the Hall of Welcome of the Mars chess championship matches next month?”

“No. Why?”

“People bet on ’em here – same as race horses Earthside.” “I don’t like bets. You can lose.”

“Sometimes. But suppose we entered Buster?”

“Huh? Are you crazy? Enter him against the best players on Mars?”

“Why not? Hazel used to be Luna champion, but Buster beats her regularly.” “But you know why. He reads her mind.”

“That’s precisely what I am talking about”

Castor shook his head. “It wouldn’t be honest, Junior.” “Since when did they pass a law against telepathy?”

“Anyhow you don’t know for certain that he does read her mind. And you don’t know that he could read a stranger’s mind. And it would take plenty cash to set up a good bet – which we haven’t got. And besides, we might lose.

“Okay, okay, it was just a thought You produce one.”

Castor frowned. “I don’t have one. Let’s go back over and see if our bikes are in. If they are, let’s treat ourselves to a day off and go sightseeing. We might as well get some use out of those bikes; they cost us enough.” He stood up.

Pollux sat still and stared at his glass. Castor added, “Come on.” Pollux said, “Sit down, Grandpa. I think I’m getting an idea.” “Don’t frighten it”

“Quiet.” Presently Pollux said, “Grandpa, you and I have just arrived here. We want to go sightseeing – so we immediately think of our bikes. Why wouldn’t tourists like to do the same thing – and pay for it?”

“Huh?” Castor thought about it ‘There must be some catch in it – or somebody would have done it long before this.”

“Not necessarily. it has only been the past few years that you could get a tourist visa to Mars; you came as a colonist or you didn’t come at all. I’d guess that nobody has thought of shipping bikes to Mars for tourists. Bikes cost plenty and they have been imported just for prospectors – for work, because a sand rat could cover four or five times as much territory on a sand cycle as on foot I’ll bet nobody here has ever thought of them for pleasure.”

“What do you want us to do? Paint a sign and then stand under it, shouting, “Bicycles! Get your bicycle here! You can’t see the sights of Mars without a bicycle”.”

Pollux thought it over. “We could do worse. But we would do better to try to sell somebody else on it, somebody who has the means to get it going. Shucks, we couldn’t even rent a lot for our bike stand.”

“There’s the soft point in the whole deal. We tell somebody and what does he do? He doesn’t buy our bikes; he goes to Tony Angelo and makes a deal with him to put Angelo’s bikes to work, at a lower cost.”

“Use your head, Grandpa. Angelo and the other dealers won’t rent their new machines to tourists; they cost too much. And tourists won’t rent that junk Angelo has in his back lot, they’re in a holiday mood; they’ll go for something new and shiny and cheerful. And for rental purposes. Remember, our bikes aren’t just practically new; they are new. Anybody who rents anything knows it has been used before; he’s satisfied if it looks new.

Castor stood up again. “Okay, you’ve sold me. Now let’s see if you can sell it to somebody else. Pick a victim.”

“Sit down; what’s your hurry? Our benefactor is probably right under this roof.” “Huh?”

“What’s the first thing a tourist sees when he first comes out of the Hall of Welcome? The Old Southern Dining Room, that’s what. The bike stand ought to be right out in front of this restaurant”

“Let’s find the owner.”

Joe Pappalopoulis was in the kitchen; he came out wiping his hands on his apron. “What’s the matter, boys? You don’t like your soda? “Oh, the sodas were swell! Look, Mr. Pappalopoulis, can you spare us a few minutes?”

“Call me “Poppa”; you wear yourself out. Sure.”

“Thanks. I’m Cas Stone; this is my brother Pol. We live on Luna and we came in with a load you might be interested in.” “You got a load of imported food? I don’t use much. Just coffee and some flavors.”

“No, no, not food. How would you like to add a new line that would fit right in with your restaurant business? Twice as much volume and only one overhead.”

The owner took out a knife and began to pare his nails. “Keep talking.”

Pollux took over, explained his scheme with infectious enthusiasm. Pappalopoulis looked up from time to time, said nothing. When Pollux seemed to be slowing down Castor took over; ‘Besides renting them by the hour, day, or week, you set up sightseeing tours and charge extra for those.”

“The guides don’t cost you any salary; you make ’em pay for the concession and then allow them a percentage of the guide fee.” “They rent their own bikes from you, too.”

“No overhead; you’ve already got the best spot in town. You just arrange to be out in front every time a shuttle comes down and maybe pay one of your guides a commission on rentals he makes to watch the stand in between times.”

“But the best deal is the long-term lease. A tourist uses a bike one day; you point out to him how cheap he can get it for the full time of his stay and you get the full price of the bike back in one season. From then on you’re operating on other people’s money.

The restaurateur put his knife away and said, “Tony Angelo is a good businessman. Why don’t I buy second hand bikes from him- cheap?

Castor took the plunge. “Go look at his bikes. Just look at them, sand pits and worn-out tires and all. Then we’ll meet his price – with better bikes.” “Any price he names?”

“Any firm price, not a phony. If his price is really low, we’ll buy his bikes ourselves.” Pollux looked a warning but Castor ignored it ‘We can undersell any legitimate price he can afford to make – with better merchandise. Let’s go see his bikes.”

Pappalopoulis stood up. “I’ve seen bikes in from the desert We go see yours.”

“They may not be down yet.” But they were down. Joe Poppa looked them over without expression, but the twins were very glad of the hours they had spent making them brave with paint, gaudy with stripes, polish and new decals.

Castor picked out three he knew to be in tiptop shape and said, “How about a ride? I’d like to do some sightseeing myself – free. Pappalopoulis smiled for the first time. “Why not?”

They rode north along the canal clear to the power pile station, then back to the city, skirted it, and right down Clarke Boulevard to the Hall of Welcome and the Old Southern Dining Room. After they had dismounted and returned the vehicles to the pile. Castor signaled Pollux and waited silently.

The cafe owner said nothing for several moments. At last he said, “Nice ride, boys. Thanks.” “Don’t mention it”

He stared at the heap of bikes. “How much?”

Castor named a price. Pappalopoulis shook his head sadly, “That’s a lot of money.”

Before Pollux could name a lower price Castor said, “Make it easy on yourself. We’d rather be cut in on the gravy but we thought you might prefer to own them yourselves. So let’s make it a partnership; you run the business, we put up the bikes. Even split on the gross and you absorb the overhead. Fair enough?”

Pappalopoulis reached over and stroked the flat cat ‘Partnerships make quarrels,” he said thoughtfully.

“Have it your own way,” Castor answered. “Five per cent for cash.

Pappalopoulis pulled out a roll that would have choked a medium-large Venerian sand hog. “I buy ’em.”

The twins spent the afternoon exploring the city on foot and looking for presents for the rest of the family. When they started home their way led them back through the square between the receiving station and Poppa’s restaurant The sign now read:

THE OLD SOUTHERN DINING ROOM AND

TOURIST BUREAU

Sodas Souvenirs Candy Sightseeing Trips BICYCLES RENTED

Guide Service

See the Ancient Martian Ruins!!!

Pollux looked at it. “He’s a fast operator, all right. Maybe you should have insisted on a partnership.” “Don’t be greedy. We turned a profit, didn’t we?”

“I told you we would. Well, let’s get Fuzzy Britches home to Buster.”

VI – CAVEAT VENDOR

Fuzzy Britches was not an immediate success with Lowell. “Where its legs?” he said darkly. “If it’s a Martian, it ought to have three legs.” “Well,” argued Castor, “some Martians don’t have legs.”

“Prove it!”

“This one doesn’t That proves it”

Meade picked Fuzzy Britches up; it immediately began to buzz – whereupon Lowell demanded to hold it Meade passed it over. “I don’t see,” she remarked, “why anything as helpless as that would have such bright colors.”

“Think again, honey lamb,” advised Hazel. “Put that thing out on the desert sand and you would lose it at ten feet, Which might be a good idea.” “No!” answered Lowell.

“”No” what, dear?”

“Don’t you lose Fuzzy Britches. He’s mine.” The child left carrying the flat cat and cooing a lullaby to it. Fuzzy Britches might lack legs but it knew how to win friends; anyone who picked it up hated to put it down. There was something intensely satisfying about petting the furry thing. Hazel tried to analyse it but could not.

No one knew when the quarantine of the War God would be lifted. Therefore Meade was much surprised one morning to return to Casa Mañana and fined her father in the general room. “Daddy!” she yelled, swarming over him. “When did you get down?.

“Just now.” “Mummy, too?”

“Yes. She’s in the ‘fresher.”

Lowell stood in the doorway, watching them impassively. Roger Stone loosed himself from his daughter and said, “Good morning, Buster.” “Good morning, Daddy. This is Fuzzy Britches. He’s a Martian. He’s also a flat cat.”

“Glad to know you, Fuzzy Britches. Did you say “flat cat”?” “Yes.”

“Very well. But it looks more like a wig.”

Dr. Stone entered, was subjected to the same treatment by Meade, then turned to Lowell. He permitted her to kiss him, then said, “Mama, this is Fuzzy Britches. Say hello to him.”

“How do you do, Fuzzy Britches? Meade, where are your brothers? And your grandmother?” Meade looked upset. “I was afraid you would get around to that. The twins are in jail again.” Roger Stone groaned. “Oh, no, not again! Edith, we should have stayed on Phobos.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Well, let’s face it What is the charge this time, Meade?” “Fraud and conspiring to evade the customs duties.”

“I feel better. The last time but one, you’ll remember, it was experimenting with atomics inside the city limits and without license. But why aren’t they out on bail? Or is there some-thing worse you haven’t told us?”

“No, it’s just that the court has tied up their bank account and Hazel wouldn’t get them bond. She said they were safer where they were.” “Good for Hazel!”

“Daddy, if we hurry we can get back downtown for the hearing. I’ll tell you and Mummy about it on the way.”

The ‘fraud’ part of it came from Mr. Pappalopoulis; the rest of it came straight from the planetary government. Mars, being in a state of expanding economy, just beginning to be self-supporting and only recently of declared sovereignty, had a strongly selective tariff. Being forced to import much and having comparatively little to export which could not be had cheaper Earthside, all her economic statutes and regulations were bent toward relieving her chronic credit gap; Articles not produced on Mars but needed for her economy came in duty free; articles of luxury or pleasure carried

very high rates; articles manufactured on Mars were completely protected by embargo against outside competition.

Bicycles were classed by the Import Commission as duty free since they were necessary to prospecting – but bicycles used for pleasure became ‘luxury items’. The customs authorities had gotten around to noticing the final disposition of the cargo of the Rolling Stone. “Of courss somebody put them up to it,” continued Meade, “but Mr. Angelo swears he didn’t do it and I believe him. He’s nice.”

“That’s clear enough. What’s the fraud angle?”

“Oh, that!” The bicycles had at once been impounded for unpaid duty penalties and costs whereupon their new owner had sworn an information charging fraud. “He’s getting a civil suit, too, but I think Hazel has it under control. Mr. Poppa says he just wants his bicycles back; he’s losing business. He’s not mad at anybody.”

“I would be,” Roger Stone answered grimly. “I intend to skin those two boys with a dull knife. What makes Hazel think she can square Mr. Pappa- et-cetera? Just what, I’d like to know?”

“She got a temporary court order freeing the bicycles to Mr. Poppa pending the outcome of the hearing; she had to put up a delivery bond on the bicycles. So Mr. Poppa dropped the fraud matter and is waiting on the civil suit to see if he’s hurt”

“Hmm – My bank account feels a little better anyway. Well, dear, we might as well go down and get it over with. There doesn’t seem to be anything here that a long check book can’t cover.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Remind me to buy a pair of Oregon boots on the way home. Meade, how much is this tariff?” “Forty per cent.”

“Not too bad. They probably made more profit than that”

“But that’s not all, Daddy. Forty per cent, plus another forty per cent penalty – plus confiscation of the bicycles.” “Plus two weeks in pillory, I hope?”

“Don’t do anything hasty, Daddy. Hazel is arguing the case.” “Since when was she admitted to the bar?”

“I don’t know, but it seems to be all right She got that court order.”

“Dear,” said Dr. Stone, “Shouldn’t the boys have a regular lawyer? Your mother is a wonderful person, but she is sometimes just a bit impetuous.” “If you mean she’s as crazy as a skew orbit, I agree with you. But I’m betting on Hazel anyhow. We’ll let her have her turn at the board. It probably

won’t cost me much more.”

“As you say, dear.”

They slipped into the back of the courtroom, which appeaed to be a church on some other days. Hazel was up front, talking to the judge. She saw them come in but did not appear to recognise them. The twins, looking very sober, were sitting together near the bench; they recognised their parents but took their cue from their grandmother.

“May it please the court,” said Hazel, “I am a stranger here in a strange land I am not skilled in your laws nor sophisticate in your customs. If I err, I pray the court to forgive me in advance and help me back to the proper path.”

The judge leaned back and looked at her. “We were over all that earlier this morning.” “Sure, judge, but it looks good in the record.”

“Do you expect to get me reversed?”

“Oh, no! We’ll settle the whole thing right here and now, I’d guess.”

“I wouldn’t venture to guess. I told you this morning that I would advise you as to the law, if need be. As to courtroom formalities, this Is a frontier. I can remember the time when, if one of us became involved in a misadventure which caused public disapproval, the matter was settled by calling a town meeting and taking a show of hands – and I’ve no doubt that as much justice was dispensed that way as any other. Times have changed but I don’t think you will find this court much bothered by etiquette. Proceed.”

“Thanks, judge. This young fellow here – “ She hooked a thumb at the prosecutor’s table. “ – would have you believe that my boys cooked up a nefarious scheme to swindle the citizens of this nation out of their rightful and lawful taxes. I deny that. Then he asks you to believe that, having hatched this Machiavellian plot, they carried it through and got away with it, until the hand of justice, slow but sure, descended on them and grabbed them. That’s a pack of nonsense, too.”

“One moment I thought you stipulated this morning to the alleged facts?”

“I admitted that my boys didn’t pay duty on those bikes. I didn’t admit anything else. They didn’t pay duty because nobody asked them to pay.”

“I see your point You’ll have to lay a foundation for that and get it in by proper evidence later. I can see that this is going to be a little involved.”

“It needn’t be, if we’ll all tell the truth and shame the devil.” She paused and looked puzzled. “Warburton . . . Warburton . . .” she said slowly, “Your name is Warburton, Judge? Any kinfolk on Luna?”

The judge squared his shoulders. “I’m a hereditary citizen of the Free State,” he said proudly. “Oscar Warburton was my grandfather.”

“That’s it!” agreed Hazel. “It’s been bothering me all morning but the numbers didn’t click into place until I noticed your profile just now. I knew your, granddaddy well. I’m a Founding Father, too.”

“How’s that? There weren’t any Stones on the roster.” “Hazel Meade Stone.”

“You’re Hazel Meade? But you can’t be!You must be dead!” “Take another look, Judge. I’m Hazel Meade.”

“Well, by the breath of K’Raath! Excuse me, ma’am. We must get together when this is over.” He straightened up again. “In the meantime I trust you realize that this in no way affects the case before us?”

“Oh, naturally not! But I must say it makes me feel better to know who’s sitting on this case. Your granddaddy was a just man.” “Thank you. And now shall we proceed?”

The young prosecutor was on his feet. “May it please the court!” “May what. please the court?”

“We feel that this is most irregular. We feel that under the circumstances the only proper procedure is for this court to disqualify itself. We feel -”

“Cut out that “we” stuff, Herbert You’re neither an editor nor a potentate. Motion denied. You know as well as I do that Judge Bonelli is laid up sick. I don’t propose to clutter up the calendar on the spurious – theory that I can’t count fingers in front of my face.” He glanced at the clock. “In fact, unless one of you has new facts to produce – facts, not theories – I’m going to assume that you have both stipulated to the same body of facts. Objection?”

“Okay with me, Judge.”

“No objection,” the prosecutor said wearily.

“You may continue, ma’am. I think we ought to wind this up in about ten minutes, if you both will stick to the subject. Let’s have your theory.” “Yes, your honor. First, I want you to take a look at those two young and innocent lads and see for yourself that they could not be up to anything

criminal.” Castor and Pollux made a mighty effort to look the description; they were not notably successful.

Judge Warburton looked at them and scratched his chin. “That’s a conclusion, ma’am. I can’t see any wings sprouting from here.”

“Forget it, then. They’re a couple of little hellions, both of them. They’ve given me plenty of grief. But this time they didn’t do anything wrong and they deserve a vote of thanks from your chamber of commerce – and from the citizens of Mars Cornmonwealth.

“The first part sounds plausible. The latter part is outside the jurisdiction of this court”

“You’ll see. The key to this case is whether or not a bicycle is a production item, or a luxury. Right?”

“Correct And the distinction depends on the end use of the imported article. Our tariff schedule is flexible in that respect. Shall I cite the pertinent cases?”

“Oh, don’t bother!”

Her son looked her over. “Hazel, it occurs to me that the the end use of sightseeing, that the defendants knew that, that they even suggested that end use and made it part of their sales argument, and that they neglected to inform the buyer of the customs status of the articles in question. Correct?”

“Right to nine decimals, Judge.”

“I’ve not yet gotten a glimpse of your theory. Surely you are not contending that sightseeing is anything but a luxury?” “Oh, it’s a luxury all right!”

“Madam, it seems to me that you are doing your grandsons no good. If you will withdraw, I will appoint counsel.”

“Better ask them, Judge.”

“I intended to.” He looked inquiringly at the twins. “Are you satisfied with your representation?”

Castor caught Pollux’s eye, then answered promptly, “We’re as much in the dark as you are, sir – but we’ll string along with grandmother.” “I admire your courage at least Proceed, ma’am”

“We agreed that sightseeing is a luxury. But “luxury” is a relative term. Luxury for whom? Roast suckling pig is a luxury for you and me-” “It certainly is. I haven’t tasted one on this planet”

“- but it’s an early death for the pig. Will the court take judicial notice of an activity known as “Mars” Invisible Export?”“ “The tourist trade? Certainly, if it’s necessary to your theory.”

“Objection!”

“Just hang on to that objection, Herbert; she may not establish a connection. Proceed.”

“Let’s find out who eats that pig. Your tariff rules, so it has been explained, are to keep citizens of the Commonwealth from wasting valuable foreign exchange on unnecessary frills. You’ve got a credit gap -”

“Regrettably, we have. We don’t propose to increase it”

“That’s my point Who pays the bill? Do you go sightseeing? Does he?” She pointed again at the prosecutor. “Shucks, no! It’s old stuff to both of you. But 1 do – I’m a tourist I rented one of those bicycles not a week ago – and helped close your credit gap. Your honor, we contend that the renting of bicycles to tourists, albeit a luxury to the tourist, is a productive activity for export to the unmixed benefit of every citizen of the Commonwealth and that therefore those bicycles are “articles of production” within the meaning and intent of your tariff laws!”

“Finished?” She nodded. “Herbert?”

“Your honor, this is ridiculous! The prosecution has clearly established its case and the defense does not even dare to dispute it I have never heard a more outlandish mixture of special pleading and distortion of the facts. But I am sure the facts are clear to the court. The end use is sightseeing, which the defence agrees is a luxury. Now a luxury is a luxury -,

“Not to the pig, son.”

“.”The pig?” What pig? There are no pigs in this case; there isn’t a pig on Mars. If we -” “Herbert! Have you anything to add?”

“I – “ The young prosecutor slumped. “Sorry Dad, I got excited. We rest.”

The judge turned to Hazel. “He a good boy, but he’s impetuous – like yours. I’ll make a lawyer out of him yet.” He straightened up. “And the court rests – ten minutes out for a pipe. Don’t go away.” He ducked out

The twins whispered and fidgeted; Hazel caught the eyes of her son and daughter-in-law and gave them a solemn wink. Judge Warburton returned in less than ten minutes and the bailiff shouted for order. The judge stared at the prisoners. “The court rules,” he said solemnly, “that the bicycles in question are “articles of production” within the meaning of the tariff code. The prisoners are acquitted and discharged. The clerk will release the delivery bond.”

There was very scattered applause, led by Hazel. “No demonstrations!” the judge said sharply. He looked again at the twins. “You’re extremely lucky – you know that, don’t you?”

“Yessir!”

“Then get out of my sight and try to stay out of trouble.”

Dinner was a happy family reunion despite the slight cloud that still hung over the twins. It was also quite good, Dr. Stone having quietly taken over the cooking. Captain Vandenbergh, down on the same shuttle, joined them for dinner. By disconnecting the TV receiver and placing it temporarily on Meade’s bunk and by leaving open the door to the twins’ cubicle so that Captain Vandenbergh’s chair could be backed into the door frame, it was just possible for all of them to sit down at once. Fuzzy Britches sat in Lowell’s lap; up till now the flat cat had had its own chair.

Roger Stone tried to push back his chair to make more room for his knees, found himself chock-a-block against the wall ‘Edith, we will just have to get a larger place.”

“Yes, dear. Hazel and I spoke to the landlord this afternoon.” “What did he say?”

Hazel took over. “I’m going to cut his gizaard out I reminded him that he had promised to take care of us when you two got down. He looked saintly and pointed out that he had given us two more cots. Lowell, quit feeding that mop with your own spoon!”

“Yes, Grandma Hazel. May I borrow yours?”

“No. But he did say that we could have the flat the Burkhardts are in, come Venus depasture. It has one more cubicle.”

“Better,” agreed Roger Stone, “but hardly a ballroom – and Venus departure is still three weeks away. Edith, we should have kept our nice room in the War God. How about it, Van? Want some house guests? Until you blast for Venus, that is?”

“Certainly.”

“Daddy! You wouldn’t go away again?” “I’m joking, snub nose.”

“I wasn’t” answered the liner’s captain. “Until Venus departure – or all the way to Venus and then back to Luna, if you choose. I got official approval of my recommendation this afternoon; you two can drag free in the War God until death or decommission do you past How about it? Come on to Venus with me?”

“We’ve been to Venus,” announced Meade. “Gloomy place.”

“Whether they take you up or not,” Hazel commented, “that’s quite a concession to get out of Four-Planets. Ordinarily that bunch of highbinders wouldn’t give away a bucketful of space.”

“They were afraid of the award an admiralty court might hand out.” Vandenbergh said drily. “Speaking of courts, I understand you put in a brilliant defence today, Hazel. Are you a lawyer, along with your other accomplishments?”

“No,” answered her son, “but she’s a fast talker.” “Who’s not a lawyer?”

“You aren’t”

“of course I am!”

“When and where? Be specific.”

“Years and years ago, back in Idaho – before you were born. I just never got around to mentioning it” Her son looked her over. “Hazel, it occurs to me that the records in Idaho are conveniently far away.” “None of your sass, boy. Anyway, the courthouse burned down.”

“I thought as much”

“In any case,” Vandenbergh put in soothingly, “Hazel got the boys off. When I heard about it, I expected that they would have to pay the duty at least You young fellows must have made quite a tidy profit”

“We did all right,” Castor admitted. “Nothing spectacular,” Pollux hedged.

“Figure it up,” Hazel said happily, “because I am going to collect a fee from you of exactly two-thirds your net profit for getting your necks out of a bight”

The twins stared at her. “Hazel, you wouldn’t?” Castor said uncertainly. “Wouldn’t I!”

“Don’t tease them, Mother,” Dr. Stone suggested.

“I’m not teasing. I want this to be a lesson to them. Boys, anybody who sits in a game without knowing the house rules is a sucker. Time you knew

it”

Vandenbergh put in smoothly, “It doesn’t matter too much these days when the government -” He stopped suddenly. “What in the world!” “What’s the matter, Van?” demanded Roger. Vandenbergh’s face cleared and he grinned sheepishly. Nothing. Just your flat cat crawling up my

leg. For a moment I thought I had wandered into your television show.”

Roger Stone shook his head. “Not mine, Hazel’s. And it wouldn’t have been a flat cat; it would have been human gore.”

Captain Vandenbergh picked up Fuzzy Britches, stroked it, then returned it to Lowell “It’s a Martian,” announced Lowell.”

“Yes?”

Hazel caught his attention. “The situation has multifarious ramifications not immediately apparent to the unassisted optic. This immature zygote holds it as the ultimate desideratum to consort with the dominate aborigine of the trifurcate variety. Through a judicious use of benign mendacity, Exhibit “A” performs as a surrogate in spirit if not in letter. Do you dig me, boy?”

Vandenbergh blinked. “I think so. Perhaps it’s just as well. They are certainly engaging little pets – though I wouldn’t have one in any ship of mine. They -”

“She means,” Lowell explained, “that I want to see a Martian with legs. I still do. Do you know one?” Hazel said, “Coach, I tried, but they were too big for me.”

Captain Vandenbergh stared at Lowell. “He’s quite serious about it, isn’t he?” “I’m afraid he is”

He turned to Dr. Stone. “Ma’am, I’ve fair connections around here and these things can always be arranged, in spite of treaties. Of course, there would be a certain element of danger – not much in my opinion.”

Dr. Stone answered, Captain, I have never considered danger to be an evaluating factor.” “Um, no, you wouldn’t, ma’am. Shall I try it?”

“If you would be so kind.”

“It will pay interest on my debt. I’ll let you know.” He dismissed the matter and turned again to the twins. “What profit-tax classification does your enterprise come under?”

“Profit tax?”

“Haven’t you figured it yet?”

“We didn’t know there was one.”

“I can see you haven’t done much importing and exporting, not on Mars anyhow. If you are a Commonwealth citizen, it all goes into income tax, of course. But if you come from out planet, you pay a single-shot tax on each transaction. Better find yourself a tax expert; the formula is somewhat complicated”

“We won’t pay it!” said Pollux.

His father answered quietly, “Haven’t you two been in jail in enough lately?”

Pollux shut up. For the next few minutes they exchanged glances, whispers, and shrugs. Presently Castor stood up. “Dad, Mother – may we be excused?”

“Certainly. If you can manage to squeeze out.” “No dessert, boys?”

“We aren’t very hungry.”

They went into town, to return an hour later not with a tax expert but with a tax guide they had picked up at the Chamber of Commerce. The adults were still seated in the general room, chatting; the table had been folded up to the ceiling. They threaded through the passageway of knees into their cubicle; they could be heard whispering in there from time to time.

Presently they came out. “Excuse us, folks. Uh, Hazel?” “What is it, Cas?”

“You said your fee was two-thirds of our net.”

“Huh? Did your leg come away in my hand, chum? I wouldn’t -”

“Oh, no, we’d rather pay it.” He reached out, dropped half a dozen small coins in her hand ‘There it is.” She looked at it ‘This is two-thirds of all you made on the deal?”

“Of course,” added Pollux, “it wasn’t a total loss. We had the use of the bicycles for a couple of hundred million miles.”

VII – FLAT CATS FACTORIAL

Vandenbergh made good his offer. Lowell and he went by stratorocket to the treaty town of Richardson, were gone about three days. When Lowell came back he had seen a Martian, he had talked with one. But he had been cautioned not to talk about it and his family could get no coherent account out of him.

But the simple matter of housing was more difficult than the presumably impossible problem of meeting a Martian. Roger Stone had had no luck in finding larger and more comfortable quarters, even after he had resigned himself to fantastic rentals. The town was bursting with tourists and would be until Venus departure, at which time those taking the triangular trip would leave – a majority, in fact. In the meantime they crowded the restaurants, took pictures of everything including each other, and ran their bicycles over the toes of pedestrians. Further packing a city already supersaturated were sand rats in from the desert and trying to arrange some way, any way, to get out to the Hallelujah Node in the Asteroid Belt.

Dr. Stone said one night at dinner, “Roger, tomorrow is rent day. Shall I pay it for a full month? Mr. d’Avril says that the Burkhardts are talking about staying on.”

“Pay it for six days only,” Hazel advised. “We can do better than this after Venus departure – I hope.” Roger Stone looked up and scowled. “Look here, why pay the rent at all?”

“What are you saying, dear?”

“Edith, I’ve been chewing this over in my mind. When we first came here our plans, such as they were, called for living here through one wait.” He referred to the fifteen months elapsed time from arrival Mars to Earth departure from Mars, using the economical orbits. Then we planned to shape orbit home. Fair enough, if this overrated tourist trap had decent housing. But I haven’t been able to start writing my book. When Buster isn’t climbing into my lap, his pet is slithering down the back of my neck.”

“What do you suggest, dear?”

“Go to Phobos tomorrow, get the old Rock ready to go, and blast for Venus when the others do.” “Loud cheers!” agreed Meade. “Let’s go!”

Dr. Stone said, “Meade, I thought you didn’t like Venus?”

“I don’t. But I don’t like it here and I’m tired all the time. I’d like to get back into free fall.” “You shouldn’t be tired. Perhaps I had better check you over.”

“Oh, Mother, I’m perfectly well! I don’t want to be poked at.” Lowell grinned. “I know why she wants to go to Venus – Mr. Magill.”

“Don’t be a snoop, Snoop!” Meade went on with quiet dignity. “In case anyone is interested, I am not interested in Second Officer Magill – and I wouldn’t be going in the Caravan in any case. Besides, I found out he afready has a wife in Colorado.” Hazel said, “Well, that’s legal. He’s still eligible off Earth,”

“Perhaps it is, but I don’t like it.”

“Neither do I,” Roger Stone cut in. “Meade, you weren’t really getting interested in this wolf in sheep’s clothing, were you?” “Of course not, Daddy!” She added, “But I suppose I’ll get married one of these days.”

“That’s the trouble with girls,” Castor commented. “Give them education – boom! They get married. Wasted.”

Hazel glared at them, “Oh, so? Where would you be if I hadn’t married?”

“It didn’t happen that way,” Roger Stone cut in, “so there is no use talking about other possibilities. They probably aren’t really possibilities at all, if only we understood it”

Pollux: “Predestination.” Castor: “Very shaky theory.”

Roger grinned. “I’m not a determinist and you can’t get my goat. I believe in free will.” Pollux: “Another very shaky theory.”

“Make up your minds,” their father told them. “You can’t have it both ways.”

“Why not?” asked Hazel. “Free will is a golden thread running through the frozen matrix of fixed events.” “Not mathematical,” objected Pollux.

Castor nodded. “Just poetry.”

“And not very good poetry.”

“Shut up!” ordered their father. “Boys, it’s quite evident that you have gone to considerable trouble to change the subject. Why?” The twins swapped glances; Castor got the go-ahead. “Uh, Dad, the way we see it, this Venus proposition hasn’t been thought out” “Go on. I suppose you have an alternative suggestion?”

“Well, yes. But we didn’t mean to bring it up until after Venus departure.”

“I begin to whiff something. What you mean is that you intended to wait until the planetary aspects were wrong – too late to shape orbit for Venus.” “Well, there was no use in letting the matter get cluttered up with a side issue.”

“What matter? Speak up.”

Castor said worriedly, “Look, Dad, we aren’t unreasonable. We can compromise. How about this: you and Mother and Buster and Meade go to Venus in the War God. Captain Van would love to have you do it – you know that. And -”

“Slow up. And what would you be doing? And Hazel? Mother, are you in on this?” “Not that I know of. But I’m getting interested.”

“Castor, what’s on your mind? Speak up.”

Well, I will if you’ll just let me, sir. You and the rest of the family could have a pleasant trip back home – in a luxury liner. Hazel and Pol and I – well, I suppose you know that Mars will be in a favorable position for the Hallelujah Node in about six weeks?”

“For a cometary-type orbit, that is,” Pollux added.

“So it’s the Asteroids again,” their father said slowly. “We settled that about a year ago.” “But we’re a year older now.”

“More experienced.”

“You’re still not old enough for unlimited licenses. I suppose that is why you included your grandmother.” “Oh,no! Hazel is an asset.”

“Thank you, boys.”

“Hazel, you had no inkling of this latest wild scheme?”

“No. But I don’t think it’s so wild. I’m caught up and then some on my episodes – and I’m tired of this place. I’ve seen the Martian ruins; they’re in a poor state of repair. I’ve seen a canal; it has water in it. I understand that the rest of the planet is much the same, right through to chapter eighty- eight. And I’ve seen Venus. I’ve never seen the Asteroids.”

“Right!” agreed Castor. “We don’t like Mars. The place is one big clip joint” “Sharp operators,” added Pollux.

“Sharper than you are, you mean,” said Hazel.

“Never mind, Mother. Boys, it is out of the question. I brought my ship out from Luna; I intend to take her back.” He stood up. “You can give Mr. d’Avril notice, dear.”

“Dad!”

“Yes, Castor?”

“That was just a compromise offer. What we really hoped you would do – what we wanted you to do – was for all of us to go out to the Hallelujah.” “Eh? Why, that’s silly! I’m no meteor miner.”

“You could learn to be. Or you could just go for the ride. And make a profit on it, too.” “Yes? How?”

Castor wet his lips. “The sand rats are offering fabulous prices just for cold-sleep space. We could carry about twenty of them at least And we could put them down on Ceres on the way, let them outfit there’.

“Cas! I suppose you are aware that only seven out of ten cold-sleep passengers arrive alive in a long orbit?”

“Well. . . they know that That’s the risk they are taking.” Roger Stone shook his head. “We aren’t going, so I won’t have to find out if you are as cold-blooded as you sound. Have you ever seen a burial in space?”

“No, sir’.”

“I have. Let’s hear no more about cold-sleep freight.”

Castor passed it to Pollux, who took over: “Dad, if you won’t listen to us all going, do you have any objections to Cas and me going?” “Eh? How ‘do you mean?”

“As Asteroid miners, of course. We’re not afraid of cold-sleep. If we haven’t got a ship, that’s how we would have to go.” “Bravo!” said Hazel. “I’m going with you, boys,”

“Please, Mother!” He turned to his wife. “Edith, I sometimes wonder if we brought the right twins back from the hospital.”

“They may not be yours,” said Hazel, “but they are my grandsons, I’m sure of that. Hallelujah, here I come! Anybody coming with me?” Dr. Stone said quietly, “You know, dear, I don’t much care for Venus, either. And it would give you leisure for your book”

The Rolling Stone shaped orbit from Phobos outward bound for the Asteroids six weeks later. This was no easy lift like the one from Luna to Mars; in choosing to take a ‘cometary’ or fast orbit to the Hallelujah the Stones had perforce to accept an expensive change-of-motion of twelve and a half miles per second for the departure maneuver. A fast orbit differs from a maximum-economy orbit in that it cuts the orbit being abandoned at an angle instead of being smoothly tangent to it. . . much more expensive in reaction mass. The far end of the cometary orbit would be tangent to the orbit of the Hallelujah; matching at that point would be about the same for either orbit; it was the departure from Phobos-circum-Mars that would be rugged.

The choice of a cometary orbit was not a frivolous one. In the first place, it would have been necessary to wait more than one Earth year for Mars to be in the proper relation, orbit-wise, with the Hallelujah Node for the economical orbit; secondly, the travel time itself would be more than doubled

five hundred and eighty days for the economical orbit versus two hundred and sixty-nine days for the cometary orbit (a mere three days longer than the Luna-Mars trip).

Auxiliary tanks for single-H were fitted around the Stone‘s middle, giving her a fat and sloppy appearance, but greatly improving her mass-ratio for the ordeal. Port Pilot Jason Thomas supervised the refitting; the twins helped. Castor got up his nerve to ask Thomas how he had managed to conn the Stone in to a landing on their arrival. “Did you figure a ballistic before you came aboard, sir?”

Thomas put down his welding torch. “A ballistic? Shucks, no, son, I’ve been doing it so long that I know every little bit of space hereabouts by its freckles.”

Which was all the satisfaction Cas could get out of him The twins talked it over and concluded that piloting must be something more than a mathematical science.

In addition to more space for single-H certain modifications were made inside the ship. The weather outside the orbit of Mars is a steady ‘clear but cold’; no longer would they need reflecting foil against the Sun’s rays. Instead one side of the ship was painted with carbon black and the capacity of the air-heating system was increased by two coils. In the control room a time-delay variable-baseline stereoscopic radar was installed by means of which they would be able to see the actual shape of the Hallelujah when they reached it.

All of which was extremely expensive and the Galactic Overlord had to work overtime to pay for it Hazel did not help with the refitting. She stayed in her room and ground out, with Lowell’s critical help, more episodes in the gory but virtuous career of Captain John Sterling – alternating this activity with sending insulting messages and threats of blackmail and/or sit-down strike to her producers back in New York; she wanted an unreasonably large advance and she wanted it right now. She got it, by sending on episodes equal to the advance. She had to write the episodes in advance anyhow; this time the Rolling Stone would be alone, no liners comfortably near by. Once out of radio range of Mars, they would not be

able to contact Earth again until Ceres was in range of the Stone‘s modest equipment. They were not going to Ceres but would be not far away; the Hallelujah was riding almost the same orbit somewhat ahead of that tiny planet.

The boost to a cometary orbit left little margin for cargo but what there was the twins wanted to use, undeterred by their father’s blunt disapproval of the passengers-in-cold-sleep idea. Their next notion was to carry full outfits for themselves for meteor mining – rocket scooter, special suits, emergency shelter, keyed radioactive claiming stakes, centrifuge speegee tester, black lights, Geiger counters, prospecting radar, portable spark spectroscope, and everything else needed to go quietly rock-happy.

Their father said simply, “Your money?” “Of course. And we pay for the boost.”

“Go ahead. Go right ahead. Don’t let me discourage you. Any objections from me would simply confirm your preconceptions.” Castor was baffled by the lack of opposition. “What’s the matter with it, Dad? You worried about the danger involved?”

“Danger? Heavens, no! It’s your privilege to get yourselves killed in your own way. Anyhow, I don’t think you will. You’re young and you’re both

smart, even if you don’t show it sometimes, and you’re both in tiptop physical condition, and I’m sure you’ll know your equipment.”

“Then what is it?”

“Nothing. For myself, I long since came to the firm conclusion that a man can do more productive work, and make more money if this is his object, by sitting down with his hands in his pockets than by any form of physical activity. Do you happen to know the average yearly income of a meteor miner?”

“Well, no, but -”

“Less than six hundred a year.” “But some of them get rich!”

“Sure they do. And some make much less than six hundred a year; that’s an average, including the rich strikes. Just as a matter of curiosity, bearing in mind that most of those miners are experienced and able, what is it that you two expect to bring to this trade that will enable you to raise the yearly average? Speak up; don’t be shy.”

“Doggone it, Dad, what would you ship?”

“Me? Nothing. I have no talent for trade. I’m going out for the ride – and to take a look at the bones of Lucifer. I’m beginning to get interested in planetology. I may do a book about it-”

“What happened to your other book?”

“I hope that isn’t sarcasm, Cas. I expect to have it finished before we get there.” He adjourned the discussion by leaving. The twins turned to leave, found Hazel griamng at them. Castor scowled at her. “What are you smirking at, Hazel?”

“You two.”

“Well. . . why shouldn’t we have a whirl at meteor mining?”

“No reason. Go ahead; you can afford the luxury. But see here, boys, do you really want to know what to ship to make some money?” “Sure!”

“What’s your offer?”

“Percentage cut? Or flat fee? But we don’t pay if we don’t take your advice.”

“Oh, rats! I’ll give it to you free. If you get advice free, you won’t take it and I’ll be able to say, “I told you so!”“ “You would, too.”

“Of course I would. There’s no warmer pleasure than being able to tell a smart aleck, “I told you so, but you wouldn’t listen.” Okay, here it is, in the form of a question, just like an oracle: Who made money in all the other big mining rushes of history?”

“Why, the chaps who struck it rich, I suppose.”

“That’s a laugh. There are so few cases of prospectors who actually hung on to what they had found and died rich that they stand out like supernovae. Let’s take a famous rush, the California Gold Rush back in 1861- no, 1861 was something else; I forget. 1849, that was it – the ‘Forty- niners. Read about ’em in history?”

“Some.”

“There was a citizen named Sutter; they found gold on his place. Did it make him rich? It ruined him. But who did get rich?” “Tell us, Hazel. Don’t bother to dramatise it”

“Why not? I may put it in the show – serial numbers rubbed off, of course. I’ll tell you: everybody who had something the miners had to buy. Grocers, mostly. Boy, did they get rich! Hardware dealers. Men with stamping mills, Everybody but the poor miner. Even laundries in Honolulu.”

“Honolulu? But that’s way out in the Pacific, off China somewhere.”

“It was in Hawaii the last time I looked. But they used to ship dirty laundry from California clear to Honolulu to have it washed – both Ways by sailing ship. That’s about like having your dirty shirts shipped from Marsport to Luna. Boys, if you want to make money, set up a laundry in the Hallelujah. But it doesn’t have to be a laundry – just anything, so long as the miners want it and you’ve got it If your father wasn’t a Puritan at heart, I’d set up a well-run perfectly honest gambling hall! That’s like having a rich uncle.”

The twins considered their grandmother’s advice and went into the grocery business, with a few general store sidelines. They decided to stock only luxury foods, things that the miners would not be likely to have and which would bring highest prices per pound. They stocked antibiotics and

surgical drugs and vitamins as well, and some lightweight song-and-story projectors and a considerable quantity of spools to go with them. Pollux

found a supply of pretty-girl pictures, printed on thin stock in Japan and intended for calendars on Mars, and decided to take a flyer on them, since they didn’t weigh much. He pointed out to Castor that they could not lose entirely, since they could look at them themselves.

Dr. Stone found them, ran through them, and required him to send some of them back. The rest passed her censorship; they took them along. The last episode was speeding toward Earth; the last weld had been approved; the last pound of food and supplies was at last aboard. The

Stone lifted gently from Phobos and dropped toward Mars. A short gravity-well maneuver around Mars at the Stone‘s best throat temperature –

which produced a spine-grinding five gravities – and she was headed out and fast to the lonely reaches of space inhabited only by the wreckage of

the Ruined Planet.

“They fell easily and happily back into free fall routine. More advanced mathematical texts had been obtained for the boys on Mars; they did not have to be urged to study, having grown really interested – and this time they had no bicycles to divert their minds. Fuzzy Britches took to free fall if the creature had been born in space; if it was not being held and stroked by someone (which it usually was) it slithered over wall and bulkhead, or floated gently around the compartments, undulating happily.

Castor maintained that it could swim through the air; Pollux insisted that it could not and that its maneuvers arose entirely from the air currents of the ventilation system, They wasted considerable time, thought, and energy in trying to devise scientific tests to prove the matter, one way or the other. They were unsuccessful.

The flat cat did not care; it was warm, it was well fed, it was happy. It had numerous friends all willing to take time off to reward its tremendous and undiscriminating capacity for affection. Only one incident marred its voyage.

Roger Stone was strapped to his pilot’s chair, blocking out – so he said – a chapter in his book. If so, the snores may have helped. Fuzzy Britches was cruising along about its lawful occasions, all three eyes open and merry. It saw one of its friends; good maneuvering or a random air current enabled it to make a perfect landing – on Captain Stone’s face.

Roger came out of the chair with a yell, clutching at his face. He bounced against the safety belt, recovered, and pitched the flat cat away from him. Fuzzy Britches, offended but not hurt, flipped itself flat to its progress, air-checked and made another landing on the far wall.

Roger Stone used several other words, then shouted, “Who put that animated toupee on my face?” But the room was otherwise empty. Dr. Stone appeared at the hatch and said, “What is it, dear?”

“Oh, nothing – nothing important. Look, dear, would you return this tailend offspring of a dying planet to Buster? I’m trying to think.”

“Of course, dear.” She took it aft and gave it to Lowell, who promptly forgot it, being busy working out a complicated gambit against Hazel. The flat cat was not one to hold a grudge; there was not a mean bone in its body, had it had bones, which it did not The only emotion it could feel wholeheartedly was love. It got back to Roger just as he had. again fallen asleep.

It again settled on his face, purring happily.

Captain Stone proved himself a mature man. Knowing this time what it was,.he detached it gently and himself returned it to Lowell. “Keep it,” he said. “Don’t let go of it.” He was careful to close the door behind him.

He was equally careful that night to close the door of the stateroom he shared with his wife. The Rolling Stone, being a small private ship, did not have screens guarding her ventilation ducts; they of course had to be left open at all times. The flat cat found them a broad highway. Roger Stone had a nightmare in which he was suffocating, before his wife woke him and removed Fuzzy Britches from his face. He used some more words.

“It’s all right, dear,” she answered soothingly. “Go back to sleep.” She cuddled it in her arms and Fuzzy Britches settled for that.

The ship’s normal routine was disturbed the next day while everyone who could handle a wrench or a spot welder installed screens in the ducts.

Thirty-seven days out Fuzzy Britches had eight golden little kittens, exactly like their parent but only a couple of inches across when flat, marble- sized when contracted. Everyone, including Captain Stone thought they were cute; everyone enjoying petting them, stroking them with a gentle forefinger and listening carefully for the tiny purr, so high as to be almost beyond human ear range. Everyone enjoyed feeding them and they seemed to be hungry all the time.

Sixty-four days later the kittens had kittens, eight each. Sixty-four days after that, the one hundred and forty-sixth day after Phobos departure, the kittens’ kittens had kittens; that made five hundred and thirteen.

“This,” said Captain Stone, “has got to stop!” “Yes, dear.”

“I mean it At this rate we’ll run out of food before we get there, including the stuff the twins hope to sell. Besides that we’ll be suffocated under a mass of buzzing fur mats. What’s eight times five hundred and twelve? Then what’s eight times that?”

“Too many, I’m sure.”

“My dear, that’s the most masterly understatement since the death of Mercutio. And I don’t think I’ve figured it properly anyway; its an exponential

expansion, not a geometric – provided we don’t all starve first”

“Roger.”

“I think we should-Eh? What?”

“I believe there is a simple solution. These are Martian creatures; they hibernate in cold weather.” “Yes?”

“We’ll put them in the hold – fortunately there is room.” “I agree with all but the “fortunately.”“

“And we’ll keep it cold.”

“I wouldn’t want to kill the little things. I can’t manage to hate them. Drat it, they’re too cute.”

“We’ll hold it about a hundred below, about like a normal Martian winter night. Or perhaps warmer will do.” “We certainly will. Get a shovel. Get a net Get a barrel.” He began snagging flat cats out of the air.

“You aren’t going to freeze Fuzzy Britches!” Lowell was floating in the stateroom door behind them, clutching an adult flat cat to his small chest. It may or may not have been Fuzzy Britches; none of the others could tell the adults apart and naming had been dropped after the first litter. But Lowell was quite sure and it did not seem to matter whether or not he was right The twins had discussed slipping in a ringer on him while he was asleep, but they had been overheard and the project forbidden. Lowell was content and his mother did not wish him disturbed in his belief.

“Dear, we aren’t going to hurt your pet”

“You better not! You do and I’ll – I’ll space you!”

“Oh, dear, he’s been helping Hazel with her serial!” Dr. Stone got face to face with her son. “Lowell, Mother has never lied to you, has she?” “Uh, I guess not”

“We aren’t going to hurt Fuzzy Britches. We aren’t going to hurt any of the flat kitties. But we haven’t got room for all of them. You can keep Fuzzy Britches, but the other kittens, are going for a long nap. They’ll be perfectly safe; I promise.

“By the code of the Galaxy?” “By the code of the Galaxy.”

Lowell left, still guarding his pet. Roger said, “Edith, we’ve got to put a stop to that collaboration.”

“Don’t worry dear; it won’t harm him.” She frowned. “But I’m afraid I will have to disappoint him on another score.” “Such as?”

“Roger, I didn’t have much time to study the fauna of Mars – and I certainly didn’t study flat cats, beyond making sure that they were harmless.” “Harmless!” He batted a couple of them out of the way. “Woman, I’m drowning.”

“But Martian fauna have certain definite patterns, survival adaptations. Except for the water-seekers, which probably aren’t Martian in origin anyhow, their methods are both passive and persistent. Take the flat cat-”

“You take it!” He removed one gently from his chest.

“It is defenseless. It can’t even seek its own food very well. I understand that in its native state it is a benign parasite attaching itself to some more mobile animal-”

“If only they would quit attaching to me! And you look as if you were wearing a fur coat Let’s put ’em in freeze!”

“Patience, dear. Probably it has somewhat the same pleasing effect on the host that it has on us; consequently the host tolerates it and lets it pick up the crumbs. But its other characteristic it shares with almost anything Martian. It can last long periods in hibernation, or if that isn’t necessary, in a state of lowered vitality and activity – say when there is no food available. But with any increase in the food supply, then at once – almost like

throwing a switch – it expands, multiplies to the full extent of the food ‘supply.”

“I’ll say it does!”

“Cut off the food supply and it simply waits for more good times. Pure theory, of course, since I am reasoning by analogy from other Martian life forms – but that’s why I’m going to have to disappoint Lowell – Fuzzy Britches will have to go on very short rations.”

Her husband frowned. “That won’t be easy; he feeds it all the time. We’ll just have to watch him – or there will be more little visitors from heaven.

Honey, let’s get busy. Right now.”

“Yes, dear. I just had to get my thoughts straight”

Roger called them all to general quarters; Operation Round-up began. They shooed them aft and into the hold; they slithered back, purring and seeking companionship. Pollux got into the hold and tried to keep them herded together while the others scavenged through the ship. His father stuck his head in; tried to make out his son in a cloud of flat cats; ‘How many have you got so far?”

“I can’t count them – they keep moving around. Close the door!” “How can I keep the door closed and still send them in to you?”

“How can I keep them in here if you keep opening the door?” Finally they all got into space suits – Lowell insisted on taking Fuzzy Britches inside with him, apparently not trusting even ‘the code of the Galaxy’ too far. Captain Stone reduced the temperature of the entire ship down to a chilly twenty below; the flat cats, frustrated by the space suits and left on their own resources, gave up and began forming themselves into balls, like fur- covered grape fruit. They were then easy to gather in, easy to count, easy to store in the hold.

Nevertheless the Stones kept finding and incarcerating fugitives for the next several days.

VIII – “INTER JOVEM ET MARTEM PLANETAM INTERPOSUI”

The great astronomer Kepler wrote: “Between Mars and Jupiter I put a planet.” His successors devised a rule for planetary distances, called ‘Bode’s Law’, which seemed to require a planet at precisely two and eight/tenths the distance from Sun to Earth, 2.8 astro units.

On the first night of the new nineteenth century the Monk Giuseppe Piazzi discovered a new heavenly body. It was the Asteroid Ceres – just where a planet should have been. It was large for an Asteroid, the largest in fact – diameter 485 miles. In the ensuing two centuries hundreds and thousands more were discovered, down to size of rocks. “The Asteroids’ proved a poor name; they were not little stars, nor were they precisely planetoids. It was early suggested that they were the remains of a once sizable planet and by the middle of the twentieth century mathematical investigation of their orbits seemed to prove it.

But it was not until the first men in the early days of the exploration of space actually went out to the lonely reaches between the orbits of Mars and Jupiter and looked that we learned for certain that the Asteroids were indeed fragments of a greater planet – destroyed Lucifer, long dead brother

of Earth.

As the Rolling Stone rose higher and ever higher above the Sun, she slowed, curved her path in, and approached the point where she would start to fall back toward the Sun. She was then at the orbit of Ceres and not far in front of that lady. The Stone had been in the region of the Asteroids for the past fifty million miles. The ruins of Lucifer are scattered over a wide belt of space; the Hallelujah Node was near the middle of that belt.

The loose group of rocks, sand, random molecules, and microplanetoids known as the Hallelujah Node was travelling in company around the Sun at a speed of eleven miles per second. The Stone‘s vector was eight miles per, second and in the same direction. Captain Stone speeded up his ship to match in by a series of blasts during the last two days, coming by a radar beacon deep in the swarm and thereby sneaking up on the collection of floating masses at a low relative speed.

The final blast that positioned them dead with the swarm was a mere love tap; the Stone did clear her throat – and she was one with the other rolling space stones of space.

Captain Stone took a last look into the double eyepiece of the stereo radar, swung the sweep control fore and aft and all around; the masses of the Hallelujah, indistinguishable from the background of stars by naked eye, hung in greatly exaggerated perspective in the false ‘space’ of the stereo tank while the true stars showed not at all. None of them displayed the crawling trail of relative motion.

A point brighter than the rest glowed in a fluctuating pattern fairly close by and a few degrees out-orbit; it was the radar beacon on which he had homed. It too, seemed steady by stereo; he turned to Castor and said, “Take a doppler on City Hall.”

“Just getting it, Captain.” In a moment he added, “Uh, relative about ten miles an hour – nine point seven and a whisper. And just under seven hundred miles away.”

“Vector?”

“Closing almost for it We ought to slide past maybe ten, fifteen miles south and in-orbit”

Roger Stone relaxed and grinned. “How’s that for shooting? Your old man can still figure them, eh?” “Pretty good, Dad – considering.”

“Considering what?”

“Considering you used Pol’s figures.”

“When I figure out which one of us you are insulting, I’ll answer that.” He spoke to the mike: “All hands, secure from maneuvers. Power room, report when secure. Edith, how soon can we have dinner?”

“It’s wrapped up, son,” Hazel reported.

“About thirty minutes, dear,” his wife answered.

“A fine thing! A man slaves over a hot control board and then has to wait thirty minutes for his dinner. What kind of a hotel is this?” “Yes, dear. By the way, I’m cutting your calorie ration again.”

“Mutiny! What would John Sterling do?”

“Daddy’s getting fat! Daddy’s getting fat!” Lowell chanted. “And strangle your child. Anybody want to come out with me while I set units?” “I will, Daddy!”

“Meade, you’re just trying to get out of helping with dinner.”

“I can spare her, dear.”

“Spare the child and spoil the fodder. Come with your fodder, baby.” “Not very funny, Daddy.”

“And I’m not getting paid for it, either.” Captain Stone went aft, whistling. The twins as well as Meade went out with him; they made quick work of setting jato units, the young people locking them in place and the Captain seeing to the wiring personally. They set a belt of them around the waist of the ship and matched pairs on the bow and quarter. Wired for triggering to the piloting radar, set at minimum range, they would give the ship a sharp nudge in the unlikely event that any object came toward them on a collision course at a relative speed high enough to be dangerous.

Coming through the Asteroid Belt to their present location deep in it, they had simply taken their chances. Although one is inclined to think of the Belt as thick with sky junk, the statistical truth is that there is so enormously more space than rock that the chance of being hit is negligible. Inside a node the situation was somewhat different, the concentration of mass being several hundred times as great as in the ordinary reaches of the Belt. But most of the miners took no precautions even there, preferring to bet that this unending game of Russian roulette would always work out in their favor rather than go to the expense and trouble of setting up a meteor guard. This used up a few miners, but not often; the accident rate in Hallelujah node was about the same as that of Mexico City.

They went inside and found dinner ready. “Call for you, Captain.” announced Hazel. “Already?”

“City Hall. Told ’em you were out but would call back. Nine point six centimeters.” “Come eat your dinner, dear, while it’s hot”

“You all go ahead. I won’t be long.”

Nor was he. Dr. Stone looked inquiringly at him as he joined them. “The Mayor,” he told her and the others. “Welcome to Rock City and all that sort of thing. Advised me that the Citizen’s Committee has set a speed limit of a hundred miles an hour for ships, five hundred miles an hour for scooters, anywhere within a thousand miles of City Hall.”

Hazel bristled. “I suppose you told him what they could do with their speed limits?”

“I did not I apologized sweetly for having unwittingly offended on my approach and said that I would be over to pay my respects tomorrow or the next day.”

“I thought Mars would have some elbow room,” Hazel grumbled. “It turned out to be nothing but scissorbills and pantywaists and tax collectors. So we come on out to the wide open spaces and what do we find? Traffic cops! And my only son without the spunk to talk back to them. I think I’ll go to Saturn.”

“I hear that Titan Base is awfully chilly,” her son answered without rancor. “Why not Jupiter? Pol, flip the salt over this way, please.” “Jupiter? The position isn’t favorable. Besides I hear that, Ganymede has more regulations than a girls’ school.”

“Mother, you are the only juvenile delinquent old enough for a geriatrics clinic whom I have ever known. You know perfectly well that an artificial colony has to have regulations.”

“An excuse for miniature Napoleons! This whole system has taken to wearing corsets.” “What’s a corset?” inquired Lowell.

“Uh . . . a predecessor to the spacesuit, sort of.”

Lowell still looked puzzled; his mother said, “Never mind, dear. When we get back, Mother will show you one, in the museum.”

Captain Stone proposed that they all turn in right after supper; they had all run short on sleep during the maneuvering approach. “I keep seeing spots before my eyes,” he said, rubbing them, “from staring into the tank. I think I’ll sleep the clock around.”

Hazel started to answer when an alarm shrilled; he passed instantly from sleepy to alert. “Object on collision course! Grab something, everybody.” He clutched at a stanchion with one hand, gathered in Lowell with the other.

But no shove from a firing jato followed. “Green,” Hazel announced quietly. “Whatever it is, it isn’t moving fast enough to hurt us. Chances favor a near miss, anyway.”

Captain Stone took a deep breath, “I hope you’re right, but I’ve been on the short end of too many long shots to place much faith in statistics. I’ve been jumpy ever since we entered the Belt”

Meade went aft with dirty dishes. She returned in a hurry, round eyed. “Daddy – somebody’s at the door.” “What? Meade, you’re imagining things.”

“No, I’m not I heard him. Listen.”

“Quiet, everyone.” In the silence they could hear the steady hiss of an air injector; the lock was cycling. Roger Stone lunged toward the airlock; he

was stopped by a sharp warning from his mother. “Son! Hold it a second”

“What?”

“Keep back from that door.” She had her gun out and at the ready. “Huh? Don’t be silly. And put that thing away; it isn’t charged anyhow.” “He won’t know that. Whoever is coming in that lock.”

Dr. Stone said quietly, “Mother Hazel, what are you nervous about?”

“Can’t you see? We’ve got a ship here with food in it. And oxy. And a certain amount of single-H. This isn’t Luna City; there are men out here who would be tempted.”

Dr. Stone did not answer but turned to her husband. He hesitated only momentarily, then snapped, “Go forward, dear. Take Lowell. Meade, you go along and lock the access hatch. Leave the ship’s phones open. If you hear anything wrong, radio City Hall and tell them we are being hijacked. Move!” He was already ducking into his stateroom, came out with his own gun.

By the time the hatch to the control room had clanged shut the airlock finished cycling. The four remaining waited, surrounding the airlock inner door. “Shall we jump him, Dad?” Castor whispered.

“No just stay out of my line of ifre.”

Slowly the door swung open. A spacesuited figure crouched in the frame, its features indistinct in its helmet. It looked around, saw the guns trained on it, and spread both its hands open in front of it. “What’s the matter?” a muffled voice said plaintively. “I haven’t done anything.”

Captain Stone could see that the man, besides being empty-handed, carried no gun at his belt. He put his own away. “Sorry. Let me give you a hand with that helmet”

The helmet revealed a middle-aged, sandy-haired man with mild eyes. “What was the matter?” he repeated.

“Nothing. Nothing at all. We didn’t know who was boarding us and we were a bit nervous. My name’s Stone, by the way. I’m master.” “Glad to know you, Captain Stone. I’m Shorty Devine.”

“I’m glad to know you, Mr. Devine. Welcome aboard.”

“Just Shorty.” He looked around. “Uh, excuse me for bursting in on you and scaring you but I heard you had a doctor aboard. A real doctor, I mean

not one of those science johnnies.”

“We have.”

“Gee, that’s wonderful! The town hasn’t had a real doctor since old Doc Schultz died. And I need one, bad.” “Sorry! Pol, get your mother.”

“I heard, dear,” the speaker horn answered. “Coming.” The hatch opened and Dr. Stone came in. “I’m the doctor, Mr. Devine. Dear, I’ll use this room, I think. If you will all go somewhere else, please?”

The visitor said hastily, “Oh, they needn’t”

“I prefer to make examinations without an audience,” she said firmly. “But I didn’t explain, ma’am – Doctor. It isn’t me; it’s my partner.” “Oh?”

“He broke his leg. Got careless with two big pieces of core material and got his leg nipped between ’em. Broke it. I guess I didn’t do too well by him for he’s a powerfully sick man. Could you come over right away, Doctor?”

“Certainly.” “Now, Edith!”

“Castor, get my surgical kit – the black one. Will you help me suit up, dear?” “But Edith, you -”

“It’s all right, Captain; I’ve got my scooter right outside. We’re only eight-five, ninety miles away; we won’t be gone long.” Captain Stone sighed. “I’m going with you. Will your scooter take three?”

“Sure, sure! It’s got Reynolds saddles; set any balance you need.”

“Take command, Hazel” “Aye aye, sir!”

They were gone all night, ship’s time, rather than a short while. Hazel sat at the control board, tracking them all the way out – then watched and waited until she spotted them leaving, and tracked them back. Devine, profuse with thanks, had breakfast with them. Just before he left Lowell came into the saloon carrying Fuzzy Britches. Devine stopped with a bite on the way to his mouth and stared. “A flat cat! Or am I seeing things?”

“Of course it is. Its name is Fuzzy Britches. It’s a Martian.” “You bet it is! Say, do you mind if I pet her for a moment?”

Lowell looked him over suspiciously, granted the boon. The prospector held it like one who knows flat cats, cooed to it, and stroked it. “Now ain’t that nice! Almost makes me wish I had never left Mars – not but what its better here.” He handed it back reluctantly, thanked them all around again, and left

Dr. Stone flexed her fingers. “That’s the first time I’ve done surgery in free fall since the old clinic days. I must review my techniques.” “My dear, you were magnificent. And Jock Donaher is mighty lucky that you were near by.”

“Was he pretty bad, Mummy?” asked Meade.

“Quite,” answered her father. “You wouldn’t enjoy the details. But your Mother knew what to do and did it And I was a pretty fair scrub nurse myself, if I do say so as shouldn’t.”

“You do say so and shouldn’t,” agreed Hazel.

“Roger,” asked Dr. Stone, “that thing they were living in could it be operated as a ship?” “I doubt it, not the way they’ve got it rigged now. I wouldn’t call it a ship; I’d call it a raft” “What do they do when they want to leave?”

“They probably don’t want to leave. They’ll probably die within hailing distance of Rock City – as Jock nearly did. I suppose they sell their high grade at Ceres, by scooter – circum Ceres, that is. Or maybe the sell it here.”

“But the whole town is migratory. They have to move some-time.”

“Oh, I imagine you could move that hulk with a few jato units, if you were gentle about it and weren’t in any hurry. I think I’d decompress it before I tried it, though.”

IX – ROCK CITY

The Asteroid Belt is a flattened torus ring or doughnut in space encompassing thirteen thousand five hundred thousand million trillion cubic miles. This very conservative figure is arrived at by casting out of the family the vagrant black sheep who wander in down to Mars and farther – even down close, to Sun itself – and by ignoring those which strayed too far out and became slaves to mighty Jove, such as the Trojan Asteroids which make him a guard of honor sixty degrees ahead and behind him, in orbit. Even those that swing too far north or south are excluded; an arbitrary limit of six degrees deviation from ecliptic has been assumed.

13,500,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 cubic miles of space.

Yet the entire human race could be tucked into one corner of a single cubic mile; the average human body is about two cubic feet in bulk. Even Hazel’s dauntless hero ‘Captain John Sterling’ would he hard put to police such a beat. He would need to be twins, at least.

Write the figure as 1.35 x 1025th cubic miles; that makes it easier to see if no easier to grasp. At the time the Rolling Stone arrived among the rolling stones of Rock City the Belt had a population density of one human soul for every two billion trillion cubic miles – read 2 x 1021. About half of these six thousand-odd lived on the larger planetoids. Ceres, Pallas, Vesta, Juno; one of the few pleasant surprises in the exploration of our system was the discovery that the largest Asteroids were unbelievably dense and thus had respectable surface gravitations. Ceres, with a diameter of only 485 miles, has an average density five times that of Earth and a surface gravity about the same as Mars. These large planetoids are believed to be mainly core material of lost Lucifer, covered with a few miles of lighter debris.

The other three thousand inhabitants constitute the Belt’s floating population in a most literal sense; they live and work in free fall. Almost all of them are gathered into half a dozen loose communities working the nodes or clusters of the Belt. The nodes are several hundred times as dense as the main body of the Belt – if ‘dense’ is the proper word; a transport for Ganymede could have ploughed through the Hallelujah node and Rock City and never noticed it except by radar. The chance that such a liner would hit anything is extremely small.

The miners worked the nodes for uranium, transuranics, and core material, selling their high grade at the most conveniently positioned large Asteroid and occasionally moving on to some other node. Before the strike in the Hallelujah the group calling themselves Rock City had been working Kaiser Wilhelm node behind Ceres in orbit; at the good news they moved, speeding up a trifle and passing in-orbit of Ceres, a ragtag caravan nudged through the sky by scooters, chemical rocket engines, jato units, and faith. Theirs was the only community well placed to migrate. Grogan’s Boys were in the same orbit but in Heartbreak node beyond the Sun, half a billion miles away. New Joburg was not far away but was working the node known as Reynolds Number Two, which rode the Themis orbital pattern, inconveniently far out.

None of these cities in the sky was truly self-supporting, nor perhaps ever would be; but the ravenous appetite of Earth’s industries for power metal and for the even more valuable planetary-core materials for such uses as jet throats and radiation shields – this insatiable demand for what the Asteroids could yield – made certain that the miners could swap what they had for what they needed Yet in many ways they were almost self- supporting; uranium refined no further away than Ceres gave them heat and light and power; all of their vegetables and much of their protein came from their own hydroponic tanks and yeast vats, Single-H and oxygen came from Ceres or Pallas.

Wherever there is power and mass to manipulate, Man can live.

For almost three days, the Rolling Stone coasted slowly through Rock City. To the naked eye looking out a port or even to a person standing outside on the hull Rock City looked like any other stretch of space – empty, with a backdrop of stars. A sharp-eyed person who knew the constellations well would have noticed far too many planets distorting the classic configurations, planets which did not limit their wanderings to the Zodiac. Still sharper attention would have spotted motion on the part of these ‘planets’, causing them to open out and draw aft from the direction the Stone was heading.

Just before lunch on the third day Captain Stone slowed his ship still more and corrected her vector by firing a jato unit; City Hall and several other shapes could be seen ahead. Later in the afternoon he fired one more jato unit, leaving the Stone dead in space relative to City Hall and less than an eighth of a mile from it He turned to the phone and called the Mayor.

“Rolling Stone, Luna, Captain Stone speaking.”

“We’ve been watching you come in, Captain,” came the voice of the Mayor.

“Good. Mr. Fries, I’m going to try to get a line over to you. With luck. I’ll be over to see you in a half-hour or so.” “Using a line-throwing gun? I’ll send someone out to pick it up.”

“No gun, worse luck. With the best of intentions I forgot to stock one.”

Fries hesitated. “Uh, Captain, pardon me, but are you in good practice for free-fall suit work?” “Truthfully, no.”

“Then let me send a boy across to put a line on you. No, no! I insist”

Hazel, the Captain, and the twins suited up, went outside, and waited. They could make out a small figure on the ship across from them; the ship

itself looked larger now, larger than the Stone. City Hall was an obsolete space-to-space vessel, globular, and perhaps thirty years old. Roger Stone surmised correctly that she had made a one-way freighter trip after she was retired from a regular run.

In close company with City Hall was a stubby cylinder; it was either smaller than the spherical ship or farther away. Near it was an irregular mass impossible to make out; the sunlight on it was bright enough but the unfilled black shadows gave no clear clues. All around them were other ships or shapes close enough to be distinguished from the stars; Pollux estimated that there must be two dozen within as many miles. While he watched a scooter left a ship a mile or more away and headed toward City Hall.

The figure they had seen launched himself across the gap. He seemed to swell; in half a minute he was close by, checking himself by the line he carried. He dropped to an easy landing near the bow of the Stone; they went to meet him.

“Howdy, Captain. I’m Don Whitsitt, Mr. Fries’ bookkeeper.”

“Howdy, Don.” He introduced the others; the twins helped haul in the light messenger line and coil it; it was followed by a steel line which Don Whitsitt shackled to the ship.

“See you at the store,” he said. “So long.” He launched himself back the way he came, carrying the coiled messenger line and not bothering with the line he had rigged.

Pollux watched him draw away. “I think I could do that”

“Just keep on thinking it,” his father said, “and loop yourself to that guide line.”

One leap took them easily across the abyss, provided one did not let one’s loop twist around the guide line. Castor’s loop did so; it braked him to a stop. He had to unsnarl it, then gain momentum again by swarming along the line hand over hand

Whitsitt had gone inside but he had recycled the lock and left it open for them. They went on in, to be met there by the Honorable Jonathan Fries, Mayor of Rock City. He was a small, bald, pot-bellied man with a sharp, merry look in his eye and a stylus tucked back of his ear. He shook hands with Roger Stone enthusiastically. “Welcome, welcome! We’re honored to have you with us, Mister Mayor. I ought to have a key to the city, or some such, for you. Dancing girls and brass bands.”

Roger shook his head. “I’m an ex-mayor and a private traveller. Never mind the brass bands.” “But you’ll take the dancing girls?”

“I’m a married man. Thanks anyhow.”

“If we had any dancing girls I’d keep ’em for myself. And I’m a married man, too.” “You certainly are!” A plump, plain but very jolly woman had floated up behind them.

Yes, Martha.” They completed the rest of the introductions; Mrs Fries took Hazel in tow; the twins trailed along with the two men, into the forward half of the globe. It was a storeroom and a shop; racks had been fitted to the struts and thrust members; goods and provisions of every sort were lashed or netted to them. Don Whitsitt clung with his knees to a saddle in the middle of the room with a desk folded into his lap. In his reach were ledgers on lazy tongs and a rack of clips holding several hundred small account books. A miner floated in front of him. Several more were burrowing through the racks of merchandise.

Seeing the display of everything a meteor miner could conceivably need, Pollux was glad that they had concentrated on luxury goods then remembered with regret that they had precious little left to sell; the flat cats, before they were placed in freeze, had eaten so much that the family had been delving into their trade goods, from caviar to Chicago sausage. He whispered to Castor, “I had no idea the competition would be so stiff.”

“Neither did I.”

A miner slithered up to Mr. Fries. “One-Price, about that centrifuge -” “Later, Sandy. I’m busy.”

Captain Stone protested, “Don’t let me keep you from your customers.”

“Oh, Sandy hasn’t got anything to do but wait. Right, Sandy? Shake hands with Captain Stone – it was his wife who fixed up old Jocko.”

“It was? Say, I’m mighty proud to know you, Captain! You’re the best news we’ve had in quite a while.” Sandy turned to Fries. “You better put him right on the Committee.”

“I shall. I’m going to call a phone meeting this evening.”

“Just a moment!” objected Roger Stone. “I’m just a visitor. I don’t belong on your Citizens’ Committee.”

Fries shook his head. “You don’t know what it means to our people to have a medical doctor with us again. The Committee ain’t any work, really. It’s just to let you know we’re glad you’ve joined us. And we’ll make Mrs Stone – I mean Doctor Stone – a member if she wants it. She won’t have time for it, though.”

Captain Stone was beginning to feel hemmed in. “Slow down! We expect to be leaving here come next Earth departure – and my wife is not now

engaged in regular practice, anyhow. We’re on a pleasure trip.”

Fries looked worried. “You mean she won’t attend the sick? But she operated on Jock Donaher.”

Stone was about to say that she positively would not under any circumstances take over a regular practice when he realized that he had very little voice in the matter. “She’ll attend the sick. She’s a doctor.”

“Good!”

“But, confound it, man! We didn’t come here for that She’s on a vacation.”

Fries nodded. “We’ll see what we can work out to make it easy on her. We won’t expect the lady to go hopping rocks the way Doc Schultz did. Get that, Sandy? We can’t have every rock-happy rat in the swarm hollering for the doctor every time he gets a sore finger. We want to get the word around that if a man gets sick or gets hurt it’s up to him and his neighbours to drag him in to City Hall if he can possibly wear a suit. Tell Don to draft me a proclamation.”

The miner nodded solemnly. “That’s right, One-Price.”

Sandy moved away; Fries went on, “Let’s go back into the restaurant and see if Martha has some fresh coffee. I’d like to get your opinion on several civic matters”

“Frankly, I couldn’t possibly have opinions on your public affairs here. Things are so different”

“Oh, why don’t I be truthful and admit I want to gossip about politics with another pro. I don’t meet one every day. First, though, did you have any shopping in mind today? Anything you need? Tools? Oxy? Catalysts? Planning on doing any prospecting and if so, do you have your gear?”

“Nothing especial today – except one thing: we need to buy, or by preference rent, a scooter. We’d like to explore a bit”

Fries shook his head. “Friend, I wish you hadn’t asked me that. That’s one thing I haven’t got All these sand rats booming in here from Mars, and even from Luna, half of ’em with no equipment They lease a scooter and a patent igloo and away they go, red hot to make their fortunes. Tell you what I can do, though – I’ve got more rocket motors and tanks coming in from Ceres two months from now. Don and I can weld you up one and have it ready to slap the motor in when the Firefly gets here.”

Roger Stone frowned, “With Earth departure only five months away that’s a long time to wait”

“Well, we’ll just have to see what we can scare up. Certainly the new doctor is entitled to the best – and the doctor’s family. Say -”. A miner tapped him on the shoulder. “Say, storekeeper, I -”

Fries’ face darkened. “You can address me as “Mr. Mayor!”‘ “Huh?”

“And beat it! Can’t you see I’m busy?” The man backed away; Fries fumed, “”One Price” I’m known as, to my friends and to my enemies, from here to the Trojans. If he doesn’t know that, he can call me by my title – or take his trade else-where. Where was I? Oh, yes! You might try old Charlie.”

“Eh?”

“Did you notice that big tank moored to City Hall? That’s Charlie’s hole. He’s a crazy old coot, rock-happy as they come, and he’s a hermit by intention. Used to hang around the edge of the community, never mixing – but with this boom and ten strangers swarming in for every familiar face Charlie got timid and asked could he please tie in at civic center? I guess he was afraid that somebody would slit his throat and steal his hoorah’s nest Some of the boomers are a rough lot at that”

“He sounds like some of the old-timers on Luna. What about him?”

“Oh! Too much on my mind these days; it wanders. Charlie runs a sort of a fourth-hand shop, and I say that advisedly. He has stuff I won’t handle. Every time a rock jumper dies, or goes Sunside, his useless plunder winds up in Charlie’s hole. Now I don’t say he’s got a scooter – though you just might lease his own now that he’s moored in-city. But he might have parts that could be jury-rigged. Are you handy with tools?”

“Moderately. But I’ve got just the team for such a job.” He looked around for the twins, finally spotted them pawing through merchandise. “Cas! Pol! Come here.”

The storekeeper explained what he had in mind. Castor nodded. “If it worked once, we’ll fix it” “That’s the spirit Now let’s go test that coffee.”

Castor hung back ‘Dad? Why don’t Pol and I go over there and see what he’s got? It’ll save you time.” “Well-”

“It’s just a short jump,” said Fries.

“Okay, but don’t jump. Use your lines and follow the mooring line over.”

The twins left Once in the airlock Pollux started fuming. “Stow it,” said Cas. “Dad just wants us to be careful.” “Yes, but why does he have to say it where everybody can hear?”

Charlie’s hole, they decided, had once been a tow tank to deliver oxygen to a colony. They let themselves into the lock, started it cycling. When pressure was up, they tried the inner door; it wouldn’t budge. Pollux started pounding on it with his belt wrench while Castor searched for a switch or other signal. The lock was miserably lighted by a scant three inches of glow tube.

“Cut the racket,” Castor told Pollux. “If he’s alive, he’s heard you by now.” Pollux complied and tried the door again – still locked. They heard a muffled voice: “Who’s there?”

Castor looked around for the source of the voice, could not spot it. “Castor and Pollux Stone,” he answered, “from the Rolling Stone, out of Luna”

Somebody chuckled. “You don’t fool me. And you can‘t arrest me without a warrant Anyhow I won’t let you in.” Castor started to explode,” Pollux patted his arm. “We aren’t cops. Shucks, we aren’t old enough to be cops.” “Take your. helmets off.”

“Don’t do it,” Castor cautioned. “He could recycle while we’re unsealed.”

Pollux went ahead and took his off; Castor hesitated, then followed. “Let us in,” Pollux said mildly. “Why should I?”

“We’re customers. We want to buy things.” “What you got to trade?”

“We’ll pay cash”

“Cash!” said the voice. “Banks! Governments! What you got to trade? Any chocolate?” “Cas,” Pollux whispered, “have we got any chocolate left?”

“Maybe six or seven pounds. Not more.” “Sure we got chocolate.”

“Let me see it.”

Castor interrupted. “What sort of nonsense is this? Pol, let’s go back and see Mr. Fries again. He’s a businessman.” The voice moaned, “Oh, don’t do that! He’ll cheat you.”

“Then open up!”

After a few seconds of silence the voice said wheedlingly,. “You look like nice boys. You wouldn’t hurt Charlie? Not old Charlie?” “Of course not We want to trade with you.”

The door opened at last In the gloom a face, etched by age and darkened by raw sunlight, peered out at them ‘Come in easy. Don’t try any tricks – I know you.”

Wondering if it were the sensible thing to do the boys pulled themselves in. When their eyes adjusted to the feeble circle of glow tube in the middle of the space they looked around while their host looked at them. The tank, large outside, seemed smaller by the way it was stuffed. As in Fries’ shop, every inch, every strut, every nook was crammed, but where the City Hall was neat, this was rank disorder, where Fries’ ‘shop was rational, this was nightmare confusion. The air was rich enough but ripe with ancient and nameless odors.

Their host was a skinny monkey of a man, covered with a single dark garment, save for head, hands, and bare feet. It had once been, Pollux decided, heated underwear for space-suit use far out starside, or in caves.

Old Charlie stared at them, then grinned, reached up and scratched his neck with his big toe. “Nice boys,” he said. “I knew you wouldn’t hurt Charlie. I was just foolin’.”

“We wouldn’t hurt anybody. We just wanted to get acquainted, and do a little business.”

“We want a – “ Pollux started; Castor’s elbow cut off the rest; Castor ‘went on,’Nice place you’ve got here.”

“Comfortable. Practical. Just right for a man with no nonsense about him. Good place for a man who likes to be quiet and think. Good place to

read a book You boys like to read?”

“Sure. Love to.”

“You want to see my books?” Without waiting for an answer he dared like a bat into the gloom, came back in a few moments with books in both hands and a half dozen held by his feet. He bumped to a stop with his elbows and offered them

There were old-style bound books, most of them, the twins saw, ships’ manuals of ships long dead. Castor’s eyes widened when he saw the dates on some of them, and wondered what the Astrogation Institute would pay for them. Among them was a dog-eared copy of Mark Twain’s Life on the Mississippi.

“Look ’em over, boys. Make yourselves comfortable. Bet you didn’t expect to find a literary man out here among these yokels. You boys can read, can’t you?”

“Sure we can.”

“Didn’t know. They teach such funny things nowadays. Quote a bit of latin to ’em and they look like you’re crazy in the head. You boys hungry? You want something to eat?” He looked anxious.

They both assured him that they had fed well and recently; he looked relieved. “Old Charlie ain’t one to let a man go hungry, even if he hasn’t got enough for himself.” Castor had noted a net of sealed rations; there must have been a thousand of them by conservative estimate. But the old man continued, “Seen the time, right herein this node – no, it was the Emmy Lou – when a man didn’t dare make breakfast without he barred his lock first and turned off his beacon. It was about that time that Lafe Dumont ate High-Grade Henderson. He was dead first, naturally – but it brought on a crisis in our community affairs. They formed up the vigilantes, what they call the Committee nowadays.”

“Why did he eat him?”

“Why, he was dead. I told you that. Just the same, I don’t think a man ought to eat his own partner, do you?” The boys agreed that it was a breech of etiquette.

“I think he ought to limit it to members of his own family, unless the two of them have got a signed and sealed contract. See any ghosts yet?” The acceleration was so sharp that it left both the twins a bit confused. “Ghosts?”

“You will. Many’s the time I’ve talked to High-Grade Henderson. Said he didn’t blame Lafe a bit, would ‘a’ done the same thing in his place. Ghosts all around here. All the rockmen that have died out here, they can’t get back to Earth. They’re in a permanent orbit – see? And it stands to reason that you can’t accelerate anything that doesn’t have mass.” He leaned toward them confidentially. “Sometimes you see ’em, but mostly they whisper in your earphones. And when they do, listen – because that’s the only way you’ll ever find any of the big strikes that got found and then got lost again. I’m telling you this because I like you, see? So listen. If it’s too faint, just close your chin valve and hold your breath; then it comes clearer.”

They agreed and thanked him. “Now tell me about your-selves, boys.” To their surprise he appeared to mean it; when they slowed down he taxed them for details, filling in only occasionally with his own disjointed anecdotes. At last Castor described the fiasco of the flat cats. “So that’s why we don’t have much food to trade with. But we do have some chocolate left and lots of other things.”

Charlie rocked back and forth from his perch in the air. “Flat cats, eh? I ain’t had my hands on a flat cat in a power of years. Nice to hold, they are. Nice to have around. Philosophical, if we just understand ’em.” He suddenly fixed Castor with his eye. “What you planning to do with all those flat cats?”

“Why, nothing, I guess.”

“That’s just what I thought You wouldn’t mind giving a poor old man who hasn’t kith nor kin nor wife nor chick one of those harmless flat cats? An old man who would always give you a bite to eat and a charge for your suit bottle?”

Castor glanced at Pollux and agreed cautiously that any dicker they reached would certainly include a flat cat as a mark of faith in dealing. “Then what do you want? You talked about scooters. You know old Charlie hasn’t got a scooter – except the one I have to have myself to stay alive.”

Castor broached the notion about repairing old parts, fitting together a scooter. Charlie scratched an inch-long stubble. “Seems. to me I did have a rocket motor – you wouldn’t mind if it lacked a valve or two? Or did I trade that to Swede Gonzalez? No, that was another one. I think – just a second while I take a look.” He was gone more nearly 600 seconds, buried in the mass; he came out dragging a piece of junk behind. “There you are! Practically new. Nothing a couple of bright boys couldn’t fix.”

Pollux looked at Castor. “What do you think it’s worth?”

Castor’s lips moved silently: “He ought to pay us to take it away.” It took them another twenty minutes but they got it for three pounds of chocolate and one flat cat.

X – FLAT CATS FINANCIAL

It took the better part of two weeks to make the ancient oxyalcohol engine work; another week to build a scooter rack to receive it, using tubing from Fries’ second-hand supply. It was not a pretty thing, but, with the Stone‘s stereo gear mounted on it, it was an efficient way to get around the node. Captain Stone shook his head over it and subjected it to endless tests before he conceded that it was safe even though ugly.

In the meantime the Committee had decreed a taxi service for the doctor lady; every miner working within fifty miles of City Hall was required to take his turn at standby watch with his scooter, with a fixed payment in high grade for any run he might have to make. The Stones saw very little of Edith Stone during this time: it seemed as if every citizen of Rock City had been saving up ailments.

But they were not forced to fall back on Hazel’s uninspired cooking. Fries had the Stone warped into contact with City Hall and a passenger tube sealed from the Stone‘s lock to an unused hatch of the bigger ship; when Dr. Stone was away they ate in his restaurant Mrs Fries was an excellent cook and she raised a great variety in her hydroponics garden.

While they were rigging the scooter the twins had time to mull over the matter of the flat cats. It had dawned on them that here in Rock City was a potential, unexploited market for flat cats. The question was: how best to milk it for all the traffic would bear?

Pol suggested that they peddle them in the scooter; he pointed out that a man’s sales resistance was lowest, practically zero, when he actually had a flat cat in his hands. His brother shook his head. “No good,” Junior.”

“Why not?”

“One, the Captain won’t let us monopolize the scooter; you know he regards it as ship’s equipment, built by the crew, namely us. Two, we would burn up our profits in scooter fuel. Three, it’s too slow; before we could move a third of them, some idiot would have fed our first sale too much, it has kittens – and there you are, with the market flooded with flat cats. The idea is to sell them as nearly as possible all at one time.”

“We could stick up a sign in the store – One-Price would let us – and sell them right out of the Stone.”

“Better but not good enough. Most of these rats shop only every three or four months. No, sir, we’ve got to build that better mouse trap and make the world beat a path to our door.”

“I’ve never been able to figure out why anybody would want to trap a mouse. Decompress a compartment and you kill all of them, every time.” “Just a figure of speech, no doubt Junior, what can we do to make Rock City flat-cat conscious?”

They found a way. The Belt, for all its lonely reaches – or because of them – was as neighbourly as a village. They gossiped among themselves, by suit radio. Out in the shining blackness it was good to know that, if something went wrong, there was a man listening not five hundred miles away who would come and investigate if you broke off and did not answer.

They gossiped from node to node by their more powerful ship’s radios. A rumor of death, of a big strike, or of accident, would bounce around the entire belt, relayed from rockman to rockman, at just short of the speed of light. Heartbreak node was sixty-six light minutes away, following orbit; big news often reached it in less than two hours, including numerous manual relays.

Rock City even had its own broadcast. Twice a day One-Price picked up the news from Earthside, then re-broadcast it with his own salty comments. The twins decided to follow it with one of their own, on the same wave length – a music & chatter show, with commercials. Oh, decidedly with commercials. They had hundreds of spools in stock which they could use, then sell, along with the portable projectors they had bought on Mars.

They started in; the show never was very good, but, on the other hand, it had no competition and it was free. Immediately following Fries’ sign-off Castor would say, “Don’t go away, neighbours! Here we are again with two hours of fun and music – and a few tips on bargains. But first, our theme

the warm and friendly purr of a Martian flat cat.” Pollux would hold Fuzzy Britches up to the microphone and stroke it; the good-natured little creature would always respond with a loud buzz. “Wouldn’t that be nice to come home to? And now for some music: Harry Weinstein’s Sunbeam Six in “High Gravity”. Let me remind you that this tape, like all other music on this program, may be purchased at an amazing saving in Flat Cat Alley, right off the City Hall – as well as Ajax three-way projectors in the Giant, Jr. model, for sound, sight, and stereo. The Sunbeam Six – hit it, Harry!”

Sometimes they would do interviews:

Castor: “A few words with one of our leading citizens, Rocks-in-his-Head Rudolf. Mr. Rudolf, all Rock City is waiting to hear from you. Tell me, do you like it out here?”

Pollux: “Naw!”

Castor: “But you’re making lots of money, Mr. Rudolf?” Pollux: “Naw!”

Castor: “At least you bring in enough high grade to eat well.” “Naw!”

“No? Tell me, why did you come out here in the first place?”

Pollux, “Bub, was you ever married?”

Sound effect of blow with blunt instrument, groan, and the unmistakable cycling of an air lock – Castor: “Sorry, folks. My assistant has just spaced Mr. Rudolf. To the purchaser of the flat cat we had been saving for Mr. Rudolf we will give away – absolutely free! – a beautiful pin-up picture printed in gorgeous living colors on fireproof paper. I hate to tell you what these pictures ordinarily sell for on Ceres; it hurts me to say how little we are letting them go for now, until our limited stock is exhausted. To the very first customer who comes in that door wanting to purchase a flat cat we will – Lock that door! Lock that door! All right, all right – all three of you will receive pin-up pictures; we don’t want anyone fighting here. But you’ll have to wait until we finish this broadcast Sorry, neighbours – a slight interruption but we settled it without bloodshed. But I find myself in a dilemma. I made you a promise and I did not know what would happen, but the truth is, too many customers were already here, pounding on the door of Flat Cat Alley. But to make good our promise I am enlarging it: not to the first customer, not to the second, nor to the third – but to the next twenty persons

purchasing flat cats will go, absolutely free, one of these gorgeous pictures. Bring no money – we accept high grade or core material at the standard

rates.”

Sometimes they varied it by having Meade sing. She was not of concert standards, but she had a warm, intimate contralto. After hearing her, a man possessing not even a flat cat felt lonely indeed. She pulled even better than the slick professional recordings; the twins found it necessary to cut her in for a percentage.

But in the main they depended on the flat cats themselves. The boomers from Mars, almost to a man, bought flat cats as soon as they heard that they were available, and each became an unpaid travelling salesman for the enterprise. Hardrock men from Luna, or directly from Earth, who had never seen a flat cat, now had opportunities to see them, pet them, listen to their hypnotic purr – and were lost. The little things not only stirred to aching suppressed loneliness, but, having stimulated it, gave it an outlet.

Castor would hold Fuzzy Britches to the mike and coo, “Here is a little darling – Molly Malone. Sing for the boys, honey pet.” While he stroked Fuzzy Britches Pollux would step up the power. “No, we can’t let Molly go – she’s a member of the family. But here is Bright Eyes. We’d like to keep Bright Eyes, too, but we mustn’t be selfish. Say hello to the folks, Bright Eyes.” Again he would stroke Fuzzy Britches. “Mr. P., now hand me Velvet.”

The stock of flat cats in deep freeze steadily melted. Their stock of high grade grew.

Roger Stone received their suggestion that they save out a few for breeding stock with one of his more emphatic refusals; once, he declaimed, was enough to be swamped in flat cats. Fuzzy Britches could stay, safely on short rations – but one was enough.

They had reached the last few at the back of the hold and were thinking about going out of business when a tired-looking, grey-haired man showed up after their broadcast. There were several other customers; he hung back and let the twins sell flat cats to the others. He had with him a girl child, little older than Lowell. Castor had not seen him before but he guessed that he might be Mr. Erska; bachelors far out-numbered families in the node and families with children were very rare. The Erskas picked up a precarious living down orbit and north; they were seldom seen at City Hall. Mr. Erska spoke Basic with some difficulty; Mrs Erska spoke it not at all. The family used some one of the little lingos – Icelandic, it might have been.

When the other customers had left the Stone Castor put on his professional grin and introduced himself. Yes, it was Mr. Erska. “And what can I do for you today, sir? A flat cat?”

“I’m afraid not”

“How about a projector? With a dozen tapes thrown in? Just the thing for a family evening.”

Mr. Erska seemed nervous. “Uh, very nice, I’m sure. No.” He tugged at the little girl’s hand. “We better go now, babykin.”

“Don’t rush off. My baby brother is around somewhere – or was. He’d like to meet your kid. Maybe he’s wandered over into the store. I’ll look for him”

“We better go.”

“What’s the rush? He can’t be far.”

Mr. Erska swallowed in embarrassment ‘My little girl. She heard your program and she wanted to see a flat cat. Now she’s seen one, so we go.” “Oh-” Castor brought himself face to face with the child. “Would you like to hold one, honey?” She did not answer, but nodded solemnly. “Mr. P.,.

bring up the Duchess.”

“Right, Mr. C.” Pollux went aft and fetched the Duchess – the first flat cat that came to hand, of course. He came back, warming it against his belly to revive it quickly.

Castor took it and massaged it until it flattened out and opened its eyes. “Here, honeybunch. Don’t be afraid”

Still silent, the child took it, cuddled it The small furry bundle sighed and began to purr. Castor turned to her father. “Don’t you want to get it for her?”

The man turned red. “No, no!”

“Why not? They’re no trouble. She’ll love it. So will you.”

“No!” He reached out and tried to take the flat cat from his daughter, speaking to her in another language.

She clung to it, replying in what was clearly the negative. Castor looked at them thoughtfully. “You would like to buy it for her, wouldn’t you?” The man looked away. “I can’t buy it.”

“But you want to.” Castor glanced at Pollux. “Do you know what you are, Mr. Erska. You are the five hundredth customer of Flat Cat Alley.”

“Uh?”

“Didn’t you hear our grand offer? You must have missed one of our programs. The five hundredth flat cat is absolutely free.”

The little girl looked puzzled but clung to the flat cat Her father looked doubtful. “You’re fooling?” Castor laughed. “Ask Mr. P.”

Pollux nodded solemnly. “The bare truth, Mr. Erska. It’s a celebration of a successful season. One flat cat, absolutely free with the compliments of the management And with it goes either one pin-up, or two candy bars – your choice.”

Mr. Erska seemed only half convinced, but they left with the child clinging to ‘Duchess’ and the candy bars. When the door was closed behind them Castor said fretfully, “You didn’t need to chuck in the candy bars They were the last; I didn’t mean us to sell them”

“Well, we didn’t sell them; we gave ’em away.”

Castor grinned and shrugged. “Okay, I hope they don’t make her sick. What was her name?” “I didn’t get it.”

“No matter. Our Mrs Fries will know.” He turned around, saw Hazel behind them in the hatch. “What are you grinning about?”

“Nothing, nothing. I just enjoy seeing a couple of cold-cash businessmen at work.” “Money isn’t everything!”

“Besides,” added Pollux, “it’s good advertising.”

“Advertising? With your stock practically gone?” She snickered. “There wasn’t any “grand offer” – and I’ll give you six to one it wasn’t your five hundredth sale.”

Castor looked embarrassed. “Aw, she wanted it! What would you have done?”

Hazel moved up to them, put an arm around the neck of each. “My boys! I’m beginning to think you may grow up yet. In thirty, forty, fifty more years you may be ready to join the human race.”

“Aw, lay off it!”

XI – THE WORM IN THE MUD

Cost-accounting on the flat-cat deal turned out to be complicated. The creatures were all descendants of Fuzzy Britches, chattel of Lowell. But the increase was directly attributable to food fed to them by everyone – which in turn had forced them to eat most of the luxury foods stocked by the

twins for trade. But it had been the twins’ imaginative initiative which had turned a liability into an asset. On the other hand they had used freely the capital goods (ship and electronic equipment) belonging to the entire family. But how to figure the probable worth of the consumed luxury foods? Whatever the figure was, it was not just original cost plus lift fuel.

Roger Stone handed down a Solomon’s decision. From the gross proceeds would be subtracted Meade’s percentage for singing; the twins would be reimbursed for the trade goods that had been commandeered; the balance would be split three ways among the twins and Lowell – all to be settled after they had traded high grade for refined metal at Ceres, then sold their load at Luna.

In the meantime he agreed to advance the twins’ money to operate further. Fries having promised to honor his sight draft on Luna City National.

But for once the twins found no immediate way to invest money. They toyed with the idea of using their time to prospect on their own, but a few trips out in the scooter convinced them that it was a game for experts and one in which even the experts usually made only a bare living. It was the fixed illusion that the next mass would be ‘the glory rock’ – the one that would pay for years of toil – that kept the old rockmen going. The twins knew too much about statistics now, and they believed in their ability rather than their luck. Finding a glory rock was sheer gamble.

“They made one fairly long trip into the thickest part of the node, fifteen hundred miles out and back taking all one day and the following night to do it. They got the scooter up to a dawdling hundred and fifty miles per hour and let it coast, planning to stop and investigate if they found promising masses having borrowed a stake-out beacon from Fries with the promise that they would pay for it they kept it

They did not need it. Time after time they would spot a major blip in the stereo radar, only to have someone else’s beacon wink on when they got within thirty miles of the mass. At the far end they did find a considerable collection of rock travelling loosely in company; they matched, shackled on their longest lines (their father had emphatically forbidden free jumping) and investigated. Having neither experience nor a centrifuge, their only way of checking on specific gravity was by grasping a mass and clutching it to them vigorously, then getting a rough notion of its inertia by its resistance to being shoved around. A Geiger counter (borrowed) had shown no radioactivity; they were searching for the more valuable core material.

Two hours of this exercise left them tired but no richer. “Grandpa,” announced Pollux, “this is a lot of left-over country rock.” “Not even that. Most of it’s pumice, I’d say.”

“Get for home?” “Check.”

They turned the scooter around by flywheel and homed on the City Hall beacon, boosting it up to four hundred miles per hour before. letting it coast, that being the top maneuver they could figure on for the juice they had left in their tanks. They would have preferred to break the speed limit, being uneasily aware that they were late – and being anxious to get home; the best designed suit is not comfortable for too long periods. They knew that their parents would not be especially worried; while they were out of range for their suit radios, they had reported in by the gossip grapevine earlier.

Their father was not worried. But the twins spent the next week under hatches, confined to the ship for failing to get back on time.

For a longer period nothing more notable took place than the incident in which Roger Stone lost his breathing mask while taking a shower and almost drowned (so he claimed) before he could find the water cut-off valve. There are very few tasks easier to do in a gravity field than in free fall, but bathing is one of them.

Dr. Stone continued her practice, now somewhat reduced. Sometimes she was chauffeured by the miner assigned to that duty; sometimes the twins took her around. One morning following her office hours in City Hall she came back into the Stone looking for the twins. “Where are the boys?”

“Haven’t seen them since breakfast,” answered Hazel. “Why?”

Dr. Stone frowned slightly. “Nothing, really. I’ll ask Mr. Fries to call a scooter for me.” “Got to make a call? I’ll take you unless those lunks have taken our scooter.”

“You needn’t, Mother Hazel.”

“I’d enjoy it. I’ve been promising Lowell a ride for weeks. Or will it take too long?”

“Shouldn’t. It’s only eight hundred miles or so out.” The doctor was not held down to the local speed limit in her errand of mercy.

“Do it in two hours, with juice to spare.” Off they went, with Buster much excited. Hazel allotted one-fourth her fuel as safety margin, allotted the working balance for maximum accelerations, figuring the projected mass-ratios in her head. Quite aside from the doctor’s privilege to disregard the law, high speed was not dangerous in the sector they would be in, it being a ‘thin’ volume of the node.

Their destination was an antiquated winged rocket, the wings of which had been torched off and welded into a tent-shaped annex to give more living room. Hazel thought that it had a shanty-town air -but so did many of the ships in Rock City. She was pleased enough to go inside and have a

sack of tea and let Lowell out of his spacesuit for a time. The patient, Mr. Bakers, was in a traction splint; his wife could not pilot their scooter, which was why Dr. Stone granted the house call. Dr. Stone received a call by radio while they were there; she came back into the general room looking troubled. “’S matter?” inquired Hazel.

“Mrs Silva. I’m not really surprised; it’s her first child.”

“Did you get the co-ordinates and beacon pattern? I’ll run you right-” “Lowell?”

“Oh. Oh, yes,” It would be a long time in a suit for a youngster. Mrs Eakers suggested that they leave the child with her.

Before Lowell could cloud up at the suggestion Dr. Stone said, “Thanks, but it isn’t necessary. Mr. Silva is on his way here. What I was trying to say, Mother Hazel, is that I probably had better go with him and let you and Lowell go back alone. Do you mind?”

“Of course not. Pipe down, Lowell! I’ll have us home in three-quarters of an hour and Lowell can have his nap or his spanking on time, as the case may be.”

She gave Dr. Stone one of two spare oxygen bottles before she left; Dr. Stone refused to take both of them. Hazel worked the new mass figures over; with Edith, her suit, and the spare bottle subtracted she had spare fuel. Better hit it up pretty fast and get home before the brat got cranky –

She lined up on City Hall by flywheel and stereo, spun on that axis to get the sun out of her eyes, clutched her gyros, and gave it the gun.

The next thing she knew she was tumbling like a liner in free fall. She remembered from long habit to cut the throttle but only after a period of aimless acceleration, for she had been chucked around in her saddle, thrown against her belts, and could not at first find the throttle.

When they were in free fall again she remembered to laugh. “Some ride, eh, Lowell?” “Do it again, Grandma!”

“I hope not.” Quickly she checked things over. There was not much that could go wrong with the little craft, it being only a rocket motor, an open rack with saddles and safety harness, and a minimum of instruments and controls. It was the gyros, of course; the motor had been sweet and hot. They were hunting the least bit, she found, that being the only evidence that they had just tumbled violently. Delicately she adjusted them by hand, putting her helmet against the case so that she could hear what she was doing.

Only then did she try to find where they were and where they were going. Let’s see – the Sun is over there and that’s Betelgeuse over yonder – so City Hall must be out that way. She ducked her helmet into the hemispherical ‘eye shade’ of the stereo. Yup! there she be!

The Eakers place was the obvious close-by point on which to measure her vector. She looked around for it, was startled to discover how far away it was. They must have coasted quite a distance while she was fiddling with the gyros. She measured the vector in amount and direction, then whistled. There were, she thought, few grocery shops out that way – darn few neighbours of any sort. She decided that it might be smart to call Mrs Eakers and tell her what had happened and ask her to call City Hall – just in case.

She could not raise Mrs Eakers. The sloven, she thought bitterly, has probably switched off her alarm so she could sleep. Lazy baggage! Her house looked it – and smelled it, too.

But she kept trying to call Mrs Eakers, or anyone else in range of her suit radio while she again lined up the ship for City, with offset to compensate for the now vector. She was cautious and most alert this time – in consequence she wasted only a few seconds of fuel when the gyros again tumbled.

She unclutched the gyros and put them out of her mind, then took careful measure of the situation. The Eakers dump was now a planetary light in the sky, shrinking almost noticeably, but it was still the proper local reference point. She did not like the vector she got. As always, they seemed to be standing still in the exact center of a starry globe – but her instruments showed them speeding for empty space, headed clear outside the node.

“What’s the matter, Grandma Hazel?”

“Nothing, son, nothing. Grandma has to stop and look at some road signs, that’s all.” She was thinking that she would gladly swap her chance of eternal bliss for an automatic distress signal and a beacon. She reached over, switched off the child’s receiver, then repeatedly called for help.

No answer. She switched Lowell’s receiver back on. “Why. did you do that, Grandma Hazel?” “Nothing. Just checking it”

“You can’t fool me! You’re scared! Why?”

“Not scared, pet Worried a little, maybe. Now shut up; Grandma’s got work to do.”

Carefully she lined up the craft by flywheel; carefully she checked it when it tried to swing past She aimed both to offset the new and disastrous vector and to create a vector for City Hall. She intentionally left the gyros unclutched. Then she restrapped Lowell in his saddle, checked its position. “Hold still,” she warned. “Move your little finger and Grandma will scalp you”

Just as carefully she positioned herself, considering lever arms, masses, and angular moments in her head Without gyros the craft must be

balanced just so. “Now,” she said to herself, “Hazel, we find out whether you are a pilot – or just a Sunday pilot.” She ducked her helmet into the eyeshade, picked a distant blip on which to center her crosshairs, and gunned the craft

The blip wavered; she tried to rebalance by shifting her body. When the blip suddenly slipped off to one side she cut the throttle quickly. Again she checked her vector. Their situation was somewhat improved. Again she called for help, not stopping to cut the child out of hearing. He said nothing and looked grave.

She went through the same routine, cutting power again when the craft ‘fell off its tail.” She measured the vector, called for help – and did it all again. A dozen times she tried it. On the last try the thrust stopped with the throttle still wide open. With all fuel gone there was no need to be in a hurry. She measured her vector most carefully on the Eakers’ ship, now far away, then checked the results against the City Hall blip, all the while calling for help. She ran through the figures again; in a fashion she had been successful. They were now unquestionably headed for City Hall, could not miss it by more than a few miles at most – almost jumping distance. But, while the vector was correct in direction, it was annoyingly small in quantity – six hundred and fifty miles at about forty miles an hour; they would be closest in about sixteen hours.

She wondered whether Edith really had needed that other spare oxygen bottle. Her own gauge showed about half full. She called for help again, then decided to go through the problem once more; maybe she had dropped a decimal in her head. While she was lining up on City Hall, the tiny light in the stereo tank faded and died. Her language caused Lowell to inquire, “What’s the matter now, Grandma?”

“Nothing more than I should have expected, I guess. Some days, hon, it just isn’t worth while to wake up in the morning.” The trouble, she soon found, was so simple as to be beyond repair. The stereo radar would no longer work because all three cartridges in the power pack were dead. She was forced to admit that she had been using it rather continuously – and it took a lot of power.

“Grandma Hazel! I want to go home!” She pulled out of her troubled thoughts to answer the child. “We’re going home, dear. But it’s going to take quite a while.”

“I want to go home right now?” “I’m sorry but you can’t”

“But -”

“Shut it up – or when I get you out of that sack, I’ll give you something to yelp for. I mean it” She again called for help. Lowell made one of his lightning changes to serenity. “That’s better,” approved Hazel. “Want to play a game of chess?” “No.”

“Sissy. You’re afraid I’ll beat you. I’ll bet you three spanks and a knuckle rub.” Lowell considered this. “I get the white men?”

“Take ’em. I’ll beat you anyhow.”

To her own surprise she did. It was a long drawn-out game; Lowell was not as practised as she was in visualising a board and they had had to recount the moves on several occasions before he would concede the arrangement of men . . . and between each pair of moves she had again called for help. About the middle of the game she had found it necessary to remove her oxygen bottle and replace it with the one spare. She and the child had started out even but Lowell’s small mass demanded much less oxygen.

“How about another one? Want to get your revenge?” “No! I want to go home.”

“We’re going home, dear.”

“How soon?”

“Well… it’ll be a while yet I’ll tell you a story.” “What story?”

“Well, how about the one about the worm that crawled up out of the mud?” “Oh, I know that one! I’m tired of it”

“There are parts I’ve never told you, And you can’t get tired of it, not really, because there is never any end to it. Always something new.” So she told him again about the worm that crawled up out of the slime, not because it didn’t have enough to eat, not because it wasn’t nice and warm and comfortable down there under the water – but because the worm was restless. How it crawled up on dry land and grew legs. How part of it got to be the Elephant’s Child and part of it got to be a monkey, grew hands, and fiddled with things. How, still insatiably restless, it grew wings and reached up for the stars. She spun it out a long, long time, pausing occasionally to call for aid.

Thechild was either bored and ignored her, or liked it and kept quiet on that account. But when she stopped he said, “Tell me another one”

“Not just now, dear.” His oxygen gauge showed empty. “Go on! Tell me a new one – a better one.”

“Not now, dear. That’s the best story Hazel knows. The very best. I told it to you again because I want you to remember it.” She watched his

anoxia warning signal turn red, then quietly disconnected the partly filled bottle on her own suit, closing the now useless suit valves, and replaced his empty bottle with hers. For a moment she considered cross-connecting the bottle to both suits, then shrugged and let it stand. “Lowell -”

“What, Grandma?”

“Listen to me, dear. You’ve heard me calling for help. You’ve got to do it now. Every few minutes, all the time.” “Why?”

“Because Hazel is tired, dear. Hazel has to sleep. Promise me you’ll do it” “Well… all right”

She tried to hold perfectly still, to breathe as little of the air left in her suit as possible. It wasn’t so bad, she thought She had wanted to see the Rings – but there wasn’t much else she had missed. She supposed everyone had his Carcassonne; she had no regrets.

“Grandma! Grandma Hazel!” She did not answer. He waited, then began to cry, endlessly and without hope.

Dr. Stone arrived back at the Rolling Stone to find only her husband there. She greeted him and added, “Where’s Hazel, dear? and Lowell?” “Eh? Didn’t they come back with you? I supposed they had stopped in the store.”

“No, of course not” “Why “of course not”?”

She explained the arrangement; he looked at her in stunned astonishment ‘They left the same time you did?” “They intended to. Hazel said she would be home in forty-five minutes.”

“There’s a bare possibility that they are still with the Eakers. We’ll find out.” He lunged toward the door.

The twins returned to find their home and City Hall as well in turmoil. They had been spending an interesting and instructive several hours with old Charlie.

Their father turned away from the Stone‘s radio and demanded, “Where have you two been?” “Just over in Charlie’s hole. What’s the trouble?”

Roger Stone explained. The twins looked at each other. “Dad,” Castor said painfully, “you mean Hazel took Mother out in our scooter?” “Certainly.” The twins questioned each other wordlessly again.

‘Why shouldn’t she? Speak up.” “Well, you . . . well, it was like this -” “Speak up!”

“There was a bearing wobble, or something, in one of the gyros,” Pollux admitted miserably. We were working on it”

“You were? In Charlie’s place!”

“Well, we went over there to see what he had in the way of spare parts and, well, we got detained, sort of.”

Their father looked at them for several seconds with no expression of any sort. He then said in a flat voice, “You left a piece of ship’s equipment out of commission. You failed to log it. You failed to report it to the Captain. He paused. “Go to your room.”

“But Dad! We want to help!”

“Stay in your room; you are under arrest”

The twins did as they were ordered. While they waited, the whole of Rock City was alerted. The word went out: the doctor’s little boy is missing; the boy’s grandmother is missing. Fuel up your scooters; stand by to help. Stay on this wave length.

“Pol, quit muttering!”

Pollux turned to his brother. “How can I help it?”

“They can’t be lost, not really lost Why, the stereo itself would stand out on a screen like a searchlight”

Pollux thought about it ‘I don’t know. You remember I said I thought we might have a high-potential puncture in the power pack?” “I thought you fixed that?”

“I planned to, just as soon as we got the bugs smoothed out in the gyros.”

Castor thought about it ‘That’s bad. That could be really bad.” He added suddenly, “But quit muttering, just the same. Start thinking instead. What happened? We’ve got to reconstruct it”

“”What happened?” Are you kidding? Look, the pesky thing tumbles, then anything can happen. No control.” “Use your head, I said. What would Hazel do in this situation?”

They both kept quiet for some moments, then Pollux said, “Cas, that derned thing always tumbled to the left, didn’t it? Always.”

“What good does that do us? Left can be any direction.”

“No! You asked what Hazel would do. She’d be along her homing line, of course – and Hazel always oriented around her drive line so as to get the Sun on the back of her neck, if possible. Her eyes aren’t too good.”

Castor screwed up his face, trying to visualise it. “Say Eakers’ is off that way and City Hall over here; if the Sun is over on this side, then, when it tumbles, she’d vector off that way.” He acted it with his hands.

“Sure, sure! When you put in the right coordinates, that is. But what else would she do? What would you do? You’d vector back I mean vector home.”

“Huh? How could she? With no gyros?”

“Think about it Would you quit? Hazel is a pilot. She’d ride that thing like a broomstick.” He shaped the air with his hands. “So she’d be coming back, or trying to, along here – and everybody will be looking for her way over here.”

Castor scowled. “Could be.”

“It had better be. They’ll be looking for her in a cone with its vertex at Eakers’ – and they ought to be looking in a cone with its vertex right here, and along one side of it at that”

Castor said, “Come along!” “Dad said we were under arrest” “Come along!”

City Hall was empty, save for Mrs Fries who was standing watch, red-eyed and tense, at the radio. She shook her head. “Nothing yet.”

“Where can we find a scooter?”

“You can’t Everybody is out searching.”

Castor tugged at Pollux’s sleeve. “Old Charlie.” “Huh?” Say, Mrs Fries, is old Charlie out searching?” “I doubt if he knows about it.”

They rushed into their suits, cycled by spilling and wasting air, did not bother with safety lines. Old Charlie let them in. “What’s all the fuss about, boys?”

Castor explained Charlie shook his head. “That’s too bad, that really is. I’m right sorry.” “Charlie, we’ve got to have your scooter.”

“Right now!” added Pollux.

Charlie looked astorsished. “Are you fooling? I’m the only one can gun that rig.” “Charlie, this serious! We’ve got to have it”

“You couldn’t gun it”

“We’re both pilots.”

Charlie scratched meditatively while Castor considered slugging him for his keys – but his keys probably weren’t on him – and how would one find

anything in that trash pile? Charlie finally said, “If you’ve just got to, I suppose I better gun it for you.”

“Okay, okay! Hurry up! Get your suit on!”

“Don’t be in such a rush. It just slows you down.”

Charlie disappeared into the underbush, came out fairly promptly with a suit that seemed to consist mostly of vulcanized patches. “Dog take it,” he complained as he began to struggle with it, “if your mother would stay home and mind her own business, these things wouldn’t happen.”

“Shut up and hurry!”

“I am hurrying. She made me take a bath. I don’t need no doctors. All the bugs that ever bit me, died.”

When Charlie had dug his scooter out of the floating junk-yard moored to his home they soon saw why he had refused to lend it. It seemed probable that no one else could possibly pilot it Not only was it of vintage type, repaired with parts from many other sorts, but also the controls were arranged for a man with four hands. Charlie had been in free fall so long that he used his feet almost as readily for grasping and handling as does an ape; his space suit had had the feet thereof modified so that he could grasp things between the big toe and the second, as with Japanese stockings.

“Hang on. Where we going?”

“Do you know where the Eakers live?”

“Sure. Used to live out past that way myself. Lonely stretch.” He pointed. “Right out there, “bout half a degree right of that leetle second-magnitude star – say eight hundred, eight hundred ten miles.”

“Cas, maybe we’d better check the drift reports in the store?”

Charlie seemed annoyed. “I know Rock City. I keep up with the drifts. I have to.” “Then let’s go.”

“To Eakers’?”

“No, no – uh, just about. . .” He strained his neck, figured the position of the Sun, tried to imagine himself in Hazel’s suit, heading back. “About there – would you say, Pol?”

“As near as we can guess it.”

The crate was old but Charlie had exceptionally large tanks on it; it could maintain a thrust for plenty of change-of-motion. Its jet felt as sweet as any. But it had no radar of any sort. “Charlie, how do you tell where you are in this thing?”

“That”

“’That’ proved to be an antiquated radio compass loop. The twins had never seen one, knew how it worked only by theory. They were radar pilots, not used to conning by the seats of their suits. Seeing their faces Charlie added, “Shucks, if you’ve got any eye for angle, you don’t need fancy gear. Anywhere within twenty miles of the City Hall, I don’t even turn on my suit jet – I just jump.”

They cruised out the line that the twins had picked. Once in free fall Charlie taught them how to handle the compass loop. “Just plug it into your suit in place of your regular receiver. If you pick up a signal, swing the loop until it’s least loud.

“That’s the direction of the signal – an arrow right through the middle of the loop.” “But which way? The loop faces both ways.”

“You have to know that. Or guess wrong and go back and try again.”

Castor took the first watch. He got plenty of signals; the node was buzzing with talk – all bad news. He found, too, that the loop, while not as directional as a ‘salad bowl’ antenna, usually did not pick up but one signal at a time. As they scooted along, endlessly he swung the loop, staying with each signal just long enough to be sure that the sound could not be Hazel.

Pollux tapped his arm and put his helmet in contact with Castor’s. “Anything?” “Just chatter.”

“Keep trying. We’ll stay out until we find them. Want me to spell you?” “No. If we don’t find them. I’m not going back.”

“Quit being a cheap hero and listen. Or give me that loop.”

City Hall dropped astern until it was no longer a shape – Castor at last reluctantly gave over the watch to Pollux. His twin had been at it for

perhaps ten minutes when he suddenly made motions waving them to silence even though he could not have heard them in any case. Castor spoke

to him helmet to helmet. “What is it?”

“Sounded like a kid crying. Might have been Buster.” “Where?”

“I’ve lost it I tried to get a minimum. Now I can’t raise it”

Charlie, anticipating what would be needed, had swung ship as soon as he had quit accelerating. Now he blasted back as much as he had accelerated, bringing them dead in space relative to City Hall and the node. He gave it a gentle extra bump to send them cruising slowly back the way they had come. Pollux listened, slowly swinging his loop. Castor strained his eyes, trying to see something, anything, other than the cold stars.

“Got it again!” Pollux pounded his brother.

Old Charlie killed their relative motion; waited. Pollux cautiously tried for a minimum, then swung the loop, and tried again. He pointed, indicating that it had to be one of two directions, a hundred and eighty degrees apart

“Which way?” Castor asked Charlie. “Over that way.”

“I can’t see anything.”

“Me neither. I got a hunch.”

Castor did not argue. Either direction was equally likely.

Charlie gunned it hard in the direction he had picked, roughly toward Vega. He had hardly cut the gun and let it coast in free fall when Pollux was nodding vigorously. They coasted for some minutes, with Pollux reporting the signal stronger and the minimum sharper . . . but still nothing in sight Castor longed for radar. By now he could hear crying in his own phones. It could he Buster – it must be Buster.

“There she is!”

It was Charlie’s shout. Castor could not see anything, even though old Charlie pointed it out to him. At last he got it – a point of light, buried in stars. Pollux unplugged from the compass when it was clear that what they saw was a mass, not a star, and in the proper direction. Old Charlie handled his craft as casually as a bicycle, bringing them up to it fast and killing his headway so that they were dead with it. He insisted on making the jump himself. Lowell was too hysterical to be coherent. Seeing that he was alive and not hurt, they turned at once to Hazel. She was still strapped in her seat, eyes open, a characteristic half-smile on her face. But she neither greeted them nor answered.

Charlie looked at her and shook his head. “Not a chance, boys. She ain’t even wearing an oxy bottle.”

Nevertheless they hooked a bottle to her suit – Castor’s bottle; no one had thought to bring a spare. The twins went back cross-connected on what was left in Pollux’s bottle, temporarily Siamese twins. The family scooter they left in orbit, to he picked up and towed in by someone else. Charlie used almost all his fuel on the way back, gunning as high a speed as he dared while still saving boost to brake them at City Hall.

They shouted the news all the way back. Somewhere along the line someone picked up their signal; passed it along.

They took her into Fries’ store, there being more room there. Mrs Fries pushed the twins aside and applied artificial respiration herself, to be displaced ten minutes later by Dr. Stone. She used the free-fall method without strapping down, placing herself behind Hazel and rhythmically squeezing her ribs with both arms.

It seemed that all of Rock City wanted to come inside. Fries chased them out, and, for the first time in history, barred the door to his store. After a while Dr. Stone swapped off with her husband, then took back the task after only a few minutes’ rest

Meade was weeping silently; old Charlie was wringing his hands and looking out of place and unhappy. Dr. Stone worked with set face, her features hardened to masculine, professional lines. Lowell, his hand in Meade’s was dry-eyed but distressed, not understanding, not yet knowing death. Castor’s mouth was twisted, crying heavily as a man cries, the sobs wrung from him; Pollux, emotion already exhausted, was silent.

When Edith Stone relieved him, Roger Stone backed away, turned toward the others. His face was without anger but without hope. Pollux whispered, “Dad? Is she?”

Roger Stone then noticed them, came over and put an arm around Castor’s heaving shoulders. “You must remember, boy, that she is very old. They don’t have much comeback at her age.”

Hazel’s eyes opened. “Who doesn’t boy?”

XII – THE ENDLESS TRAIL

Hazel had used the ancient fakir’s trick, brought to the west, so it is said, by an entertainer called Houdini, of breathing as shallowly as possible and going as quickly as may be into a coma. To hear her tell it, there never had been any real danger. Die? Shucks, you couldn’t suffocate in a coffin in that length of time. Sure, she had had to depend on Lowell to keep up the cry for help; he used less oxygen. But deliberate suicide to save the boy? Ridiculous! There hadn’t been any need to.

It was not until the next day that Roger Store called the boys in. He told them, “You did a good job on the rescue. We’ll forget the technical breach of confinement to the ship.”

Castor answered, “It wasn’t anything. Hazel did it, really. I mean, it was an idea that we got out of her serial, the skew orbit episode.” “I must not have read that one.”

“Well, it was a business about how to sort out one piece of space from another when you don’t have too much data to go on. You see, Captain Sterling had to -”

“Never mind. That’s not what I wanted to talk with you about, you did a good job, granted, no matter what suggested it to you. If only conventional search methods had been used, your grandmother would unquestionably now be dead. You are two very intelligent men – when you take the trouble. But you didn’t take the trouble soon enough. Not about the gyros.”

“But Dad, we never dreamed -”

“Enough.” He reached for his waist; the twins noticed that he was wearing an old-fashioned piece of apparel – a leather belt. He took it off. “This belonged to your great grandfather. He left it to your grandfather – who in turn left it to me. I don’t know how far back it goes – but you might say that the Stone family was founded on it.” He doubled it and tried it on the palm of his hand. “All of us, all the way back, have very tender memories of it. Very tender. Except you two.” He again whacked his palm with it.

Castor said, “You mean you’re going to beat us with that?” “Have you any reason to offer why I shouldn’t?”

Castor looked at Pollux, sighed and moved forward, I’ll go first, I’m the older.”

Roger moved to a drawer, put the belt inside. “I should have used it ten years ago.” He closed the drawer. “It’s too late, now.” “Aren’t you going to do it?”

“I never said I was going to. No.”

The twins swapped glances. Castor went on. “Dad – Captain. We’d rather you did.” Pollux added quickly, “Much rather.”

“I know you would. That way you’d be through with it. But instead you’re going to have to live with it. That’s the way adults have to do it.” “But Dad -”

“Go to your quarters, sir.”

When it was time for the Rolling Stone to leave for Ceres a good proportion of the community crowded into City Hall to bid the doctor and her family good-by; all the rest were hooked in by radio, a full town meeting. Mayor Fries made a speech and presented them with a scroll which made them all honorary citizens of Rock City, now and forever; Roger Stone tried to answer and choked up. Old Charlie, freshly bathed, cried openly. Meade sang one more time into the microphone, her soft contralto unmixed this time with commercialism. Ten minutes later the Stone drifted out- orbit and back.

As at Mars, Roger Stone left her circum Ceres, not at a station or satellite – there was none – but in orbit. Hazel, the Captain, and Meade went down by shuttle to Ceres City, Meade to see the sights. Roger to arrange the disposal of their high grade and core material and for a cargo of refined metal to take back to Luna, Hazel to take care of business or pleasure of her own. Doctor Stone chose not to go – on Lowell’s account; the shuttle was no more than an over-sized scooter with bumper landing gear.

The twins were still under hatches, not allowed to go.

Meade assured them, on return, that they had not missed anything. “It’s just like Luna City, only little and crowded and no fun.” Their father added, “She’s telling the truth, boys, so don’t take it too hard. You’ll be seeing Luna itself next stop anyway.

“Oh, we weren’t kicking!” Castor said stiffly.

“Not a bit,” insisted Pollux. “We’re willing to wait for Luna.”

Roger Stone grinned, “You’re not fooling anyone. But we will be shaping orbit home in a couple of weeks. In a way I’m sorry. All in all, it’s been two good years.”

Meade said suddenly, “Did you say “home” Daddy? It seems to me we are home. We’re going back to Luna, but we’re taking home with us.” “Eh? Yes, I suppose you’re right; the good old Rolling Stone is home, looked at that way. She’s taken us through a lot.” He patted a bulkhead

affectionately. “Right, Mother?”

Hazel had been unusually silent. Now she looked at her son and said, “Oh, sure, sure. Of course.” Dr. Stone said, “What did you do downside, Mother Hazel?”

“Me? Oh, not much. Swapped lies with a couple of old-timers. And sent off that slough episodes. By the way, Roger, better start thinking about story lines.”

“Eh? What was that, Mother?”

“That’s my last. I’m giving the show back to you.” “Well, all right – but why?”

“Uh, I’m not going to find it so convenient now.” She seemed embarrassed. “You see – well, would any of you mind very much if I checked out now?”

“What do you mean?”

“The Helen of Troy is shaping for the Trojans and the Wellington is matching there for single-H and a passenger. Me. I’m going on out to Titan.”

Before they could object she went on, “Now don’t look at me that way. I’ve always wanted to see the Rings, close up – close enough to file my nails on ’em. They must be the gaudiest sight in the System. I got to thinking right seriously about it when the air was getting a little stuffy back – well, back you-know-when. I said to myself; Hazel, you aren’t getting any younger; you catch the next chance that comes your way. I missed one once, Roger, when you were three. A good chance, but they wouldn’t take a child and well, never mind. So now I’m going.”

She paused, then snapped, “Don’t look so much like a funeral! You don’t need me now. What I mean is, Lowell is bigger now and not such a problem”

“I’ll always need you, Mother Hazel,” her daughter-in-law said quietly.

“Thanks. But not true. I’ve taught Meade all the astrogation I know, She could get a job with Four-Planets tomorrow if they weren’t so stuffy about hiring female pilots. The twins -well, they’ve soaked up all the meanness I can pass on to them; they’ll put up a good fight, whatever comes up. And you, Son, I finished with you when you were in short pants. You’ve been bringing me up ever since.”

“Mother!”

“Yes, Son?”

“What’s your real reason? Why do you want to go?”

“Why? Why does anybody want to go anywhere? Why did the bear go round the mountain? To see what he could see! I’ve never seen the Rings. That’s reason enough to go anywhere. The race has been doing it for all time. The dull ones stay home – and the bright ones stir around and try to see what trouble they can dig up. It’s the human pattern. It doesn’t need a reason, any more than a flat cat needs a reason to buzz. Why anything?”

“When are you coming back?”

“I may never come back. I like free fall. Doesn’t take any muscle. Take a look at old Charlie. You know how old he is? I did some checking. He’s at least a hundred and sixty. That’s encouraging at my age – makes me feel like a young girl. I may see quite a few things yet,”

Dr. Stone said, “Of course you will, Mother Hazel.” Roger Stone turned to his wife. “Edith?”

“Yes, dear?”

“What’s your opinion?”

“Well . . . there’s actually no reason why we should go back to Luna, not just now.” “So I was thinking. But what about Meade?”

“Me?” said Meade.

Hazel put in dryly, “They’re thinking you are about husband-high, hon.”

Dr. Stone looked at her daughter and nodded slightly. Meade looked surprised, then said, “Pooh! I’m in no hurry. Besides – there’s a Patrol base on Titan. There ought to be lots of young officers.”

Hazel answered, “It’s a Patrol research base, hon – probably nothing but dedicated scientists.” “Well, perhaps when I get through with them they won’t be quite so dedicated!”

Roger Stone turned to the twins. “Boys?”

Castor answerd for the team. “Do we get a vote? Sure!”

Roger Stone grasped a stanchion, pulled himself forward. “Then it’s settled. All of you – Hazel, boys, Meade – set up trial orbits. I’ll start the mass computations”

“Easy, son – count me out on that,” “Eh?”

“Son, did you check the price they’re getting for single-H here? If we are going to do a cometary for Saturn instead of a tangential for Earth, it’s back to the salt mines for me. I’ll radio New York for an advance, then I’ll go wake Lowell and we’ll start shoveling gore.”

“Well… okay. The rest of you-mind your decimals!”

All stations were manned and ready; from an instruction couch rigged back of the pilot and co-pilot Meade was already running down the count- off. Roger Stone glanced across at his mother and whispered, “What are you smiling about?”

“And five! And four!” chanted Meade.

“Nothing much. After we get to Titan we might-”

The blast cut off her words; the Stone trembled and threw herself outward bound, toward Saturn. In her train followed hundreds and thousands and hundreds of thousands of thousands of restless rolling Stones. . . to Saturn. . . to Uranus, to Pluto. . . rolling on out to the stars. . . outward bound to the ends of the Universe.

The End

I hope that you enjoyed this post. I have other posts that cover many other stories in my Fictional Index. You can go there using this link…

Fictional Stories

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Be the Rufus; more videos of personal heroism in China. Part 15.

More videos of personal heroism in China. This is part fifteen.

Some people find these posts interesting, others boring. I find them inspirational. They how the best of what we are and why that matters.

It matters.

Here are some more videos of personal heroism. These videos all take place in China, and show examples of how average, normal, everyday people (or dogs and cats) can make a difference. When the calling strikes and an emergency occurs, will you be the one who turns their back, or will you run and offer help? Will you be the one who stays playing on the cell-phone, or will you lend a helping hand? Will you be the person who will make a difference in the lives of those around you, or are you just going to fade into the background.

Make a difference. Be like Rufus!

Please kindly note that this post has multiple embedded videos. It is important to view them. If they fail to load, all you need to do is to reload your browser.

These are all micro-videos of very short duration. From ten seconds to three minutes. I would suggest that you, the reader, allow them to load to get the full experience.

Video 1 – Help an old lady cross the street.

Here is a video of a little old lady making her way across the street. The intersection is a six-way, and totally confusing to the pedestrian folk of all ages. SO she’s going her way, at her speed. The cars are zipping by. But you know what?

One guy stops for her. Then a motorcycle gets in front of the the other lane and stops the traffic there. And then again, yet another car takes the lead.

Rufus. We are everywhere!

Video 2 – Rescue a man from a train.

What in the world is this guy thinking? What could be so interesting on the railroad tracks? Well, what ever it is, he is totally and completely absorbed in it, and the train is coming at him with lightening speed. He’s only got seconds before he is squashed into jelly.

Lucky for him, a Rufus sees him…

Video 3 – Catch a thief.

Thief’s are able to rob people and get away with crimes because no one comes after them. But that is changing. In China, when you take down a criminal, you help someone, you give a person CPR, you will not be sued. The police won’t arrest you Berkley, California style, or sue you for saving their life. So people are permitted by law to be heroes.

And that means catching crooks…

Video 4 – Help take down a terrorist.

When a policeman is trying to take down a terrorist, innocent bystanders might want to assist. Here, we have a Uighur Muslim in Xinjiang, China wielding a knife and shouting “God is Great” while stabbing passers by. Unlucky for him the police and the locals won’t tolerate his nonsense.

Video 5 – Helping a homeless man.

This fellow helps a guy down on his luck. Or, maybe he is mentally disturbed, or has other issues. In any event, he tries to help him. He buys him food, and gives him the shirt off his back. He’s a real Rufus…

Video 6 – Standing for the National Anthem

You would NEVER see this in the United States, but it is common in the rest of the world. When the national anthem is played, everyone stops and faces the flag and gives it their undivided attention.

Personal pride, respect for your country, your community and your school is what defines our local relationships. Without it, we are just mindless cogs within a machine.

Video 7 – Businessman gets bad news.

It’s not only emotionally distraught young women that throw themselves infront of speeding trains, it can be men as well. Sometimes the news can be so overwhelming, so out of control, and so damning that we just (out of emotion) plunge ourselves into the dark abyss. Luckily for this fellow, Rufus was nearby to help.

Video 8 – New rescue technology.

This is pretty cool. I don’t know how effective it would be, as the motor and technology would have to be checked regularly, but it’s a useful application of inventive technologies and worthy of mention.

Video 9 – A cat saves a boy from a dog attack!

This is another favorite video. It’s exactly as it appears. A dog attacks a little boy, and a cat races to the rescue!

Video 10 – Man robs a woman in a bank and then changes his mind when he sees how little she has in her account.

This kind of thing has happened more than once in China, and I am at a loss to understand why. Maybe the Chinese have a understanding of things that are different than what you have in America.

Thank you for reading this.

God bless.

Conclusion

We do not know when the calling will come.

However, when it calls, you must take action. It will not make you wealthy, rich, famous, or attractive. But, it will make a difference when you are judged upon death. Be the Rufus. Make a difference. Help others. It’s our highest calling.

Posts Regarding Life and Contentment

Here are some other similar posts on this venue. If you enjoyed this post, you might like these posts as well. These posts tend to discuss growing up in America. Often, I like to compare my life in America with the society within communist China. As there are some really stark differences between the two.

Some of my favorite links and browser bookmarks.
Here are just some pretty decent websites, bookmarks, URL's and sites that I would like to share. I think that there is something here for everyone. These, in my mind, are the "cream of the crop" of underappreciated websites, and some places that you all might want to visit.

The history of how Australia obtained Sheilas; the story of The Lady Juliana, The 18th-Century Prison Ship Filled With Women. This is the story of the Lady Juliana. This was a special ship designed to convey female convicts from England to Australia. The idea was that a boat load of female convicts would happily link up with a colony of convicts in Australia. Thus making everyone very, very happy, and reform the colony in New South Wales.

The Navy is scrapping the F/A-18 Hornet.

Excuses that we use that keep us enslaved.

Funny Pictures

Be the Rufus – Tales of Everyday Heroism.

Be the Rufus, part II. More tales of heroism.

Be the Rufus; more stories of personal heroism in China. Part 3.
Here are some more videos of personal heroism. These videos all take place in China, and show examples of how average, normal, everyday people (or dogs and cats) can make a difference. When the calling strikes and an emergency occurs, will you be the one who turns their back, or will you run and offer help? Will you be the one who stays playing on the cell-phone, or will you lend a helping hand? Will you be the person who will make a difference in the lives of those around you, or are you just going to fade into the background.

Be the Rufus; more stories of personal heroism in China. Part 4.
Here are some more fine, fine videos of personal heroism. These videos all take place in China, and show examples of how average, normal, everyday people (or dogs and cats) can make a difference. When the calling strikes and an emergency occurs, will you be the one who turns their back, or will you run and offer help? Will you be the one who stays playing on the cell-phone, or will you lend a helping hand? Will you be the person who will make a difference in the lives of those around you, or are you just going to fade into the background.

Be the Rufus; more stories of personal heroism in China. Part 5.
Here are even more fine, fine videos of personal heroism. These videos all take place in China, and show examples of how average, normal, everyday people (or dogs and cats) can make a difference. When the calling strikes and an emergency occurs, will you be the one who turns their back, or will you run and offer help? Will you be the one who stays playing on the cell-phone, or will you lend a helping hand? Will you be the person who will make a difference in the lives of those around you, or are you just going to fade into the background.

This is a selection of videos that portray everyday heroes doing good, kind works. We all like int he same (apparent) world and we all share the same environment. It is thus important for us to make it the best environment to coexist within. These videos are part of a much larger collection of videos. This is part 6.

Be the Rufus; more stories of personal heroism in China. Part 7.
This is a selection of videos that portray everyday heroes doing good, kind works. We all like in the same (apparent) world and we all share the same environment. It is thus important for us to make it the best environment to coexist within. These videos are part of a much larger collection of videos. This is part 7.

Be the Rufus; more stories of personal heroism in China. Part 8.
This is a selection of videos that portray everyday heroes doing good, kind works. We all like in the same (apparent) world and we all share the same environment. It is thus important for us to make it the best environment to coexist within. These videos are part of a much larger collection of videos. This is part 8.

Be the Rufus; more stories of personal heroism in China. Part 9.
We all have a need to participate within our communities, to have a role, and to give meaning to our lives. This role is important, and it is such that it often can call upon us to be heroic in acts and deeds. This is a selection of videos that portray everyday heroes doing good, kind works. We all like in the same (apparent) world and we all share the same environment. It is thus important for us to make it the best environment to coexist within. These videos are part of a much larger collection of videos. This is part 9.

Be the Rufus; more stories of personal heroism in China. Part 10.
We all have a need to participate within our communities, to have a role, and to give meaning to our lives. This role is important, and it is such that it often can call upon us to be heroic in acts and deeds. This is a selection of videos that portray everyday heroes doing good, kind works. We all like in the same (apparent) world and we all share the same environment. It is thus important for us to make it the best environment to coexist within. These videos are part of a much larger collection of videos. This is part 10.

Articles & Links

You can start reading the articles by going HERE.
You can visit the Index Page HERE to explore by article subject.
You can also ask the author some questions. You can go HERE to find out how to go about this.
You can find out more about the author HERE.
If you have concerns or complaints, you can go HERE.
If you want to make a donation, you can go HERE.

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