Whittling away the time

It’s been years since I sat down and whittled.

You know… I think that I need to take up that pastime again.

Just put a rocking chair on the porch, get a buck knife and some birch twigs, and rock and whittle.

Or…

Maybe, perhaps…

I’m just getting old. Eh?

Today…

A Beginner’s Guide to Whittling

Vintage man whittling a wood with knife.

The Yankee boy, before he’s sent to school,
Well knows the mysteries of that magic tool,
The pocket-knife. To that his wistful eye
Turns, while he hears his mother’s lullaby;

His hoarded cents he gladly gives to get it,
Then leaves no stone unturned till he can whet it;
And in the education of the lad
No little part that implement hath had.
His pocket-knife to the young whittler brings
A growing knowledge of material things.

Projectiles, music, and the sculptor’s art,
His chestnut whistle and his shingle dart,
His elder pop-gun with its hickory rod,
Its sharp explosion and rebounding wad,
His corn-stalk fiddle, and the deeper tone
That murmurs from his pumpkin-stalk trombone,
Conspire to teach the boy. To these succeed
His bow, his arrow of a feathered reed,
His wind-mill, raised the passing breeze to win,
His water-wheel, that turns upon a pin;
Or, if his father lives upon the shore,
You’ll see his ship, “beam ends upon the floor,”
Full rigged, with raking masts, and timbers stanch,
And waiting, near the wash-tub, for a launch.

Thus, by his genius and his jack-knife driven,
Ere long he’ll solve you any problem given;
Make any jim-crack, musical or mute,
A plow, a couch, an organ, or a flute;
Make you a locomotive or a clock,
Cut a canal, or build a floating-dock,
Or lead forth Beauty from a marble block—
Make any thing, in short, for sea or shore,
From a child’s rattle to a seventy-four;—
Make it, said I?—ay! when he undertakes it,
He’ll make the thing and the machine that makes it.

And when the thing is made—whether it be
To move on earth, in air, or on the sea;
Whether on water, o’er the waves to glide,
Or, upon land to roll, revolve, or slide;
Whether to whirl or jar, to strike or ring,
Whether it be a piston or a spring,
Wheel, pulley, tube sonorous, wood or brass,
The thing designed shall surely come to pass;
For, when his hand’s upon it, you may know
That there’s go in it, and he’ll make it go.

“Whittling” by John Pierpont

Whittling is a great pastime for the man who wants to craft something, but may not have the room or tools to say, build a dining room table. Or for the man looking for something meditative to help him center his thoughts. Or simply for the guy who wants to while away time on a camping trip. It’s one of the cheapest and most accessible hobbies you can take up–all you need is a knife and some wood.

I can’t say I ever whittled a pumpkin-straw trombone or a little windmill, but as a boy I did pare many a stray twig into a tiny spear (small, yet surely capable of downing a saber-tooth tiger if needed be).

Now as a grown man I’m always looking for ways to settle my mind and new hobbies to try my hand at. When I think of relaxation, my mind often turns to the old man sitting on the porch in a rocking chair, a knife in one hand, a piece of wood in the other. And so recently I decided to explore my boyhood pastime in greater depth. Today I’d like to share what I’ve learned with you about how to get started with whittling.

What You Need: The Knife and the Wood

The Wood

Softwoods are the best for whittling because they cut nice and easy. After you’ve learned the basics of whittling, feel free to move on to harder woods. No matter which kind of wood you use, look for wood with a straight grain as it is easier to whittle than wood that has the grain going in multiple directions. Avoid wood with lots of knots–those are a booger to whittle.

Check your local lumber yard or woodworking store for whittling wood. Craft stores, like Hobby Lobby, often carry a variety of softwoods that are good for whittling. I picked up all my whittling wood at Hobby Lobby for a few bucks. Just avert your eyes from the fake flowers and wicker baskets as you shop.

Below I’ve included a short list of the most popular whittling woods.

Basswood. Basswood has been used for millennia for woodcarving. During the Middle Ages, it was the preferred wood of German sculptors who crafted elaborate altar pieces. It’s a good wood to whittle with because it’s soft and doesn’t have much grain. You can pick up basswood blocks in various sizes at your local craft store for a reasonable price.

Pine. Pine is another traditional whittling wood. It’s soft, cuts easily, and is readily available. But it has its drawbacks. Some whittlers think pine doesn’t hold detail very well. And if you’re using a fresh pine twig or branch, you’ll have to regularly clean the sticky sap off your knife while you’re whittling.

Balsa. Balsa wood is a soft, inexpensive, lightweight wood that’s perfect for beginning whittlers. You can buy it by the boatloads at craft stores like Hobby Lobby for pretty cheap. I picked up 9 blocks of balsa wood for a little under $4.

Random twigs and branches. You don’t need a pre-cut block of wood to whittle. Twigs and branches from most kinds of trees make for great whittling. There’s nothing more enjoyable than sitting around a campfire and whittling away at a twig while you talk to your buddies. Wooden knives are a popular item to whittle from a tree branch.

The Knife

Three blades folding green handle pocket knife.

Pocket Knife. For generations, whittlers have used nothing but their trusty pocket knife to create ruggedly handsome works of art. And some whittling purists will argue that the pocket knife is the only acceptable tool for true whittling. Pocket knives are certainly an excellent choice because they’re so portable. Anytime you find a good piece of wood, you can just whip out your pocket knife and start sculpting your wooden masterpiece. Another benefit of pocket knives is that they provide multiple blade types in a single knife. When you need to do some more intricate carving, you can simply open up your smaller more flexible blade. Need to make bigger cuts? Use the larger knife blade.

Flexcut specialty whittling knife with small blade.

Specialty whittling knives. Several types of specialty whittling knives exist on the market today. Unlike pocket knives, they’re fixed blade, meaning they don’t fold. Fixed blades offer a bit more sturdiness than what you get with a folding knife. Another nice feature of specialty whittling knives is that they often have curved handles that fit comfortably in your hand to help reduce fatigue during long whittling sessions.

Flexcut offers a wide selection of different kinds of whittling knives, and I bought this starter set from them. I’ve been happy with the knives. They hold an edge nicely and are easy to sharpen. The ergonomically shaped handle does indeed help reduce hand fatigue compared to carving with a pocket knife.

It’s nice to have a set of specialty whittling knives for when you’re whittling at home, while using your pocket knife for whittling sessions on the go.

The First Rule of Whittling: Keep Your Knife Sharp

Vintage man sharpening pocket knife on stone.

If you want your whittling experience to be pleasurable and relaxing, keep your knife sharp. The first time I tried my hand at whittling, I noticed that the wood was getting harder and harder to cut. I figured it must have been the wood, so I just soldiered on, applying more and more pressure with the knife. After my hands started aching something fierce, it finally dawned on me that my knife probably needed some sharpening.

After a few strokes on the sharpening stone and strop, I started carving again. It was like I was carving a warm block of butter. The blade glided right through the wood.

Now, whenever I feel the wood getting harder to cut, I stop and sharpen my knife.

Don’t know how to sharpen a knife? No worries. We’ve got you covered:

Whittling Safety, or How Not To Get Blood All Over Your Project

The first time I attempted some serious whittling (not just carving a twig into a spear point), I kind of went at it with reckless abandon. I thought, “Hey, I’ve used knives my whole life. I’m pretty sure I can carve this piece of wood without coming close to cutting myself.”

Pride goeth before the fall.

About five minutes in, the knife blade slipped from the wood and went right into my thumb, opening up a nice-sized cut. I pressed on, but I ended up getting blood all over my project. Another ten minutes in, the blade skipped off a knot and glanced my index finger. More blood. At this point, my wood was slippery with hemoglobin, so I had to stop.

To avoid the same bloody fate as me, I offer the following whittling safety tips:

Take it slow. No need to rush! Whittling is supposed to be relaxing and meditative. When you get in a hurry with your cuts, that’s when accidents happen. Make every cut slow and controlled.

Keep your knife sharp. Obeying the first rule of whittling will not only ensure better cuts, it will also ensure that you keep all your fingers. Instead of cutting, dull blades have a tendency to glance off the wood and head right towards your hand. While the blade might not be sharp enough to cut wood, it’s usually still sharp enough to cut human flesh.

Wear gloves when you first start. Until you get comfortable with the different knife strokes, I’d recommend wearing a pair of leather work gloves when your first start whittling. Yes, the gloves feel a little cumbersome at first, but you quickly adjust.

If you don’t wear gloves, use a thumb pad. The thumb on your knife-holding hand tends to get the brunt of the nicks and glances. To protect your thumb, wear a thumb pad. They’re really cheap–you can buy leather thumb pads on Amazon for about $1.50. The problem with these is when they wear out, you’ll have to buy another set. Another solution that works just as well is duct tape. Before you start whittling, simply wrap your knife-holding thumb with duct tape. To avoid getting sticky stuff on your thumb, use this technique:

Wrap one layer of duct tape around your thumb with the sticky side facing out. Wrap it tight enough so it won’t slip off, but not so tight that you lose circulation to your thumb.
Then wrap a couple of layers of duct tape around your thumb with the sticky side facing in. Four or five layers should do the trick.

Start off with soap. A great way to practice is carving soap. It’s a lot easier than wood and gives you a chance to practice the different techniques. Try carving a turtle out of a soap.

Wood Grain

Sometimes it’s easy to tell the direction of the grain on a piece of wood simply by looking at it. But oftentimes it’s not that obvious. If you’re having a hard time deciphering which way the grain is going, start making some small shallow cuts in your wood. Cuts made with the grain will peel away smoothly; cuts made against the grain will give resistance and eventually split.

Generally, you want most of your cuts to go with the wood’s grain. Cuts against the grain cause your wood to tear, split, and just plain look ugly. Plus, the resistance the wood gives when you cut against the grain makes whittling much more difficult.

Don’t get frustrated if you lose track of which way the grain runs while you’re in the middle of the project. It happens to most people when they’re first getting started with woodworking of any kind. It happened to me at least. Just keep practicing, and you’ll eventually get a feel for figuring out wood grain.

Types of Whittling Cuts

Several cutting styles exist in whittling, but we’ll just stick with the basics for the purposes of this article. The directions assume you’re right-handed. Simply flip them if you’re a southpaw.

Straightaway Rough Cutting

A man whittling a wood to make Sharp edges.

Use this cut at the very beginning of your project to carve your project’s general shape. Hold the wood in your left hand and your knife firmly in your right. Make a long, sweeping cut with the grain and away from your body. Don’t cut too deep or you might split the wood. Make several, thin slices to reduce the wood to the desired size and shape.

Pull Stroke (Pare Cut)

A man applying pull stroke for whittling.

If you’ve ever seen an old-timer whittle, chances are you saw him using the pull stroke. It’s the most used cut in whittling. To perform this cut, imagine you’re paring an apple. Hold the wood in your left hand, the knife in your right with the blade facing towards you. Brace your right thumb against the wood, and squeeze your right fingers in order to draw the blade to your right thumb. Make your stroke short and controlled. Keep your right thumb out of the path of the blade. For added safety, wear a thumb pad.

The pull stroke gives you lots of control over your blade and is best for detailed cuts.

Push Stroke (Thumb Pushing)

Whittle push stroke using thumb.

Sometimes where you want to cut won’t allow you to do the pull stroke. That’s when it’s time to bust out the push stroke. Hold the wood in your left hand and the knife firmly in your right hand with the blade facing away from you. Place both your right and left thumbs on the back of the knife blade. Push the blade forward with your left thumb while your right thumb and fingers guide the blade through the wood.

The push stroke, like the pull stroke, gives you greater control over your knife for detailed cuts.

What to Whittle

Vintage man whittling fish out of wood.

So you have your tools and wood and know the basic cuts. Now, what to whittle?

For beginners, I’d suggest you keep it simple. Keith Randich, author of Old Time Whittling, suggests beginners whittle an egg as their first project. Yeah, an egg. I know, not very exciting. But a simple project like an egg is a good way to introduce beginning whittlers to the law of wood grains. Here’s a guide to carving your very own wooden egg.

After you’ve mastered the egg, you can move on to some simple patterns. Cowboy boots are a popular whittling project as well as animals. You can buy books with ready-to-go whittling patterns. All you have to do is simply transfer the pattern to your wood and start whittling.

Or you could just sort of wing it and make up your own pattern. I thought it would be cool to whittle a duck’s head, so I took a piece of wood, drew an outline of a duck’s head on both sides of it, and started whittling.

A whittling out duck head out of wood.

A duck head I started a few days ago. Not great, but it’s turning out better than I thought it would.

After months of practice, you might be ready to move on to the really cool projects like wooden chains or the mysterious ball in the cage. Maybe even one day, you’ll be as awesome as this old-timer:

Whittling Resources

If whittling looks like something you’d like to take up, I highly recommend the following books.

The Little Book of Whittling by Chris Lubkemann. A great book for beginners. Lubkemann’s focus is on whittling branches and twigs. This book has a great guide on how to carve an awesome looking knife from a tree branch. You can see them at his website here.

The Art of Whittling by Walter Faurot. Get this book when you’re ready to move on to advanced projects. It’s filled with patterns like a chain, ball and cage, and even some simple puzzles.

What is the scariest room ever designed?

White room. Something like this.

Known as white torture, it is one of the most devastating forms of psychological torture.

Why? It doesn’t seem so bad, right?

Wrong. This room is the epitome of sensory deprivation and isolation.

Did I mention it’s also soundproof?

it erases your sense of reality.

Imagine being in a room that is all white, where it is the only “color” you ever see. You are never allowed to talk to anyone , your food is white rice, and all the surfaces are smooth.

It makes you lose your 5 senses.

Wouldn’t that drive you crazy? Let me explain.

In the 1970s, German terrorist Astrid Proll was imprisoned in a white torture chamber for almost 5 months. During that time, she experienced hallucinations, starvation, disequilibrium (an imbalance between assimilation and accommodation), insomnia, tremors, and even convulsions. And after a visit to her room, she could not tell whether an hour or a week had passed after just 30 minutes.

Iranian student Amir Fakhravar was also trapped in the same room for almost a year, and after his release, he experienced chronic loneliness, and could not even recognize his parents’ faces.

Imagine being trapped in that room, imprisoned for months, years.

This results in lifelong negative effects.

Just listening to myself, not knowing how much time has passed.

Your heart beat

Your breath.

You start hallucinating.

You become a voice.

You lose yourself.

Real China Shocked Americans on Chinese App RedNote

Catfish Adobo (Adobong Hito)

Ingredients

2 pounds catfish
2 tablespoons finely minced ginger
1 tablespoon finely minced garlic
1 cup white vinegar
Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
4 tablespoons vegetable or corn oil

Instructions

Marinate fish in ginger, garlic, vinegar, salt and pepper for 3 hours.
Take the garlic bits from the marinade and fry in oil until golden brown.
Add the fish and the marinade. Bring to a boil and simmer for 10 minutes, turning fish several times.

What are your thoughts on “TikTok refugees” who are now flocking to RedNote (Xiaohongshu) as a result of the TikTok ban in the US?

Excuse me, is this the real situation in the United States；

“Lunch Loan Plus”: Refers to American students taking loans because they cannot afford lunch.

“Pay in Full for Groceries”: If an American pays in full for groceries, it implies that the person is in a good financial situation and can be proud of it.

“496”: Refers to working two jobs, starting at 4 AM and finishing at 9 PM, working six days a week.

“Rainwater Collection Fee”: A satirical expression suggesting one would have to pay for rainwater collected in one’s yard.

“Mental Anguish Fee”: A sarcastic term implying a fee charged when a patient cries while seeing a doctor, affecting the doctor’s mental state.

“Mother-Child Contact Fee”: A satirical charge for mothers wanting to hold their newborns without prior notice.

“Selling Blood for Education”: Describes students who sell blood to fund their education and living expenses.

“Selling Blood Twice a Week”: Indicates people selling blood frequently due to insufficient income.

“The United States as the World’s Largest Exporter of Blood Products”: The U.S. exports a significant portion of global blood products.

“Selling Blood Tax”: Earnings from selling blood are subject to taxation.

“Human Products”: Refers to human-derived products like blood or organs, with the U.S. leading in this area.

“Illegal to Grow Vegetables”: Suggests that growing vegetables on one’s property could be against the law.

“One Meal a Day”: Literally means eating only one meal per day.

“No-Hunger Pills”: Hypothetical pills that suppress hunger to reduce meal consumption.

“Hoarding Painkillers”: American households stockpile painkillers throughout the house.

“Pregnancy Leads to Dismissal”: Implies women might be dismissed from work due to pregnancy.

“Unpaid Maternity Leave”: Maternity leave without pay.

“No Maternity Leave”: Women returning to work shortly after childbirth.

“Disaster Loans”: Government provides loans rather than direct aid during disasters.

“Renting While Serving

Neocons demand Ukraine escalation. Trump signals talks with Putin

Black Shell

Submitted into Contest #282 in response to: Write a story that starts and ends in the same place.… view prompt

Jay DeBurgh

“Maybe time is a shell and we float along it?” Mabel says.John looks through the glass to the smoke environment where long black suckers curl around static inkwells.He breathes in through his hazmat environmental suit while he watches Mabel, the mother of his child. She breathes in the modified air because she has pressed the red button. But she cannot remember what choosing it means.”How do you know that? Are you guessing?” John asks.Mabel shakes her head and her blue eyes drench to black to show she is communicating with the visitors.Their inkwell language changes shapes on glass and Mabel’s eyes flick in response.The alarm sounds as John’s air has 45 seconds before it runs out.Mabel’s eyes drain of the black liquid and she carries John out with her new visitor strength.

“I need to go and stop a war starting then they will be safe. Later we will be safe, then at the top of the black shell of time they will be safe again.” She says to John.

“What now? Mabel you know you aren’t making sense right? What the hell is a black-shell-of-time?” John says.

“What I just said makes sense to me. Using the shell theory where the base of the smallest curl takes you back to the top of the widest part of time.”

“Oh, wait, so they told you time isn’t a line but a circle?”

Mabel shakes her head, “No they showed me time as a movie. It’s pretty bizarre but I can only see it once I press the red button to consent to them changing me.”

John pouts as he wants to be the leader, “They hid the red button from me when I went to press it.”

Mabel nods and buzzes the team to unhook John so they can talk over lunch.

She knows if John went in it would be war because of his truculence. She wanted calm because the baby kept her up all night. In her mind she kept repeating shush, headache, quiet, peaceful future.

The tall visitors whose black curved flippers moved through the foggy environment of their ship want peace above all.

“They chose me because I want my headache to stop.” Mabel replies to John.

They look at each other, pick up a green pot whose contents they wobble and click together in cheers.

“It’s jelly time!” They say together and suck all the fruity pudding down until the odd visitors’ presence melts away from their thoughts until tomorrow.

Tomorrow, the next move up the shell of time where each layer interconnects as multiple layers overlay.

It’s day two and the visitors show her the start of the shell and the middle which she is in. Then the future shock of life extinction.

While black gloop flows down her face as she cries from the horror they show her.

Somehow she can read the splodges of inky liquid.

She reads an odd part of their message where connecting layers of time can rewrite the main layer. Her mind hurts from them flowing change into her conceptions of time and space.

She asks them if they can rewrite universal death or the annihilation in the future that wipes all life out.

They point at her. Have another offspring, they whisper in her mind.

Trouble is they had to get IVF for 2 years, with her as a pin cushion, to have their son.

They see her anguish of waiting and bruises from the hormone injections. More black tears gush from her eyes though a bucket from inside is flushing something out. Liquid splurges on the glass.

One more sentence flows from their shared consciousness to her mind.

Your baby is now within you.

She hears the sentence in her mind. With emotions of joy bubbling from them, because the change has started to save the future.

The onyx gloop on her cheeks is absorbed by her skin.

John is banging on the glass with huge eyes and white knuckles. She blinks and the onyx goo recedes to show her usual human eye colour.

She says, “I am fine John, the visitors showed me their hurtful future which is ours unless I help.”

Military from the government arrive to take over the first contact platform to access the visitor’s, initially designed by Mabel and built by John. Mabel sees the nuclear weapon in the military truck and her eyes flick as she updates the visitor’s.

That afternoon a green military man in uniform is burned when he doesn’t ask permission from Mabel to enter the contact platform. By the time the argument calms down between John and the top military, the thin black line which is the alien ship has risen away from the platform.

Mabel’s eyes are flicking as the visitors give her their last instructions and move along the growth of her baby.

“She is coming, John we need to call them to deliver her safely as she is special,” Mabel says that evening the visitors leave.

“Which hospital love?” John says feeling confused.

Mabel points to the sky and says, “Them who made her.”

John goes into the garden and screams, “What the hell have you done to my wife? We spent years trying to make our first born. N\ow you wave your ink at her and hey-presto instant baby!”

While John is in the garden waving his arms Mabel’s eyes flick that the baby is coming. A black slit appears in the wall of her lounge and she steps through it onto their ship where she floats.

Her mind is filled with bubble sounds as the delivery ink chamber envelops her. They ask her to breathe in their liquid essence so the baby can swim out without any stress from temperature change.

By the next evening Mabel is home with her new little girl who she has named Grace

while auntie Carol looks after their seven month old baby boy.

John feels odd around the new baby as her eyes are permanently black and her hair is pure white.

“She has all her fingers and toes right Mabel?” John is pacing the bedroom carpet as baby Grace cries for her bottle that’s warming for her.

“John, stop fretting. She is human with the ability to talk to the visitors anytime. That’s why her eyes are black right now, but will be blue as she matures into a teenager.”

John clenches his fists, hears the baby’s cry and unclenches them.

“I guess so, but how come it is this easy to have a second child when you went through hell the first time?” John blurts out.

“They healed something and improved other things so baby Grace will grow quicker than most children. By tomorrow she will be ten years old. Do you want the visitors to help you forget they made her?”

John nods as he cannot bring himself to look at the tiny pale thing in a pink blanket. In his mind the word freak rolls over. He is worried he may hand her over to social services but doesn’t want to hurt his wife.

Mabel’s eyes flick and baby Grace stops crying and calls out, “Dadda.”

John freaks out but feels the pull to hold her for the first time. On contact with baby Grace he forgets his horror of being father to a hybrid child with visitor abilities. New memories enter his mind of an amazing birth where he was the first to hold his first little daughter. Laughter at her first birthday when frosting sits on her nose and transfers to his when they hug.

“Grace, it’s time to get in the car for college now. Mum has packed us four lovely lunches and your older brother will meet us there as he has a surprise for you.” John says.

Loud boots thud down the stairs to the front door with the bright smile of Grace to make John’s heart warm up with pride.

“Sorry Grace but I’m gonna get soppy now.” John says.

Grace rests her hand on her hip and pretends to be cross while he gives her praise for being a wonderful daughter.

“Thanks dad you’re the best, I mean it.” Grace says hugging John, wiping away the last remnant of doubt in his memories.

At university Grace is settling into her dorm room and feels calm while she looks at her watch. Her eyes flick as the visitors tell her it’s time. She checks inside the long gym bag to clean the scope. Unzipping the metal zip she slides her finger down the barrel to the end.

Her mission is to stay alive and go to the conference in the city to shoot the man who will create the ultimate artificial intelligence. The WethMan who in the future turns the heat up on Earth and boils all the sea dry and all the oxygen from life.

The visitors watch time revert back to the day they met Mabel in the field before John saw them and panicked. This time they share the update sooner so things will go smoother this time around. They uncloak their ship and call Mabel in and encourage her to press the red button.

“I’m suffocating, wait, stop. My hazmat suit has sprung a leak and I can’t breathe your atmosphere.” Mabel cries out in a panic.

The voice of the visitors is a deep audible thud which Mabel cannot understand, so she shakes her head as she chokes. Collapsing she shudders.

Black gloop flows into her body. Huge gasps in and Mabel finds herself looking at a ceiling of the infirmary.

John’s face is peering at Mabel’s and as her eyes flutter open he babbles sentence after sentence at her until she hugs him.

“Sorry John darling, I should have got out after the visitors agreed that I press the red button.”

John paces, “Mabel you know the protocols for goodness sake, you wrote them!”

“I need to go back in once I’ve had a coffee. They want to show me something important.”

“I’m going in with you and I will record everything just in case,” says John.

Mabel nods, so they go in to meet the visitors both wearing their environmental gear.

Her eyes go black and John screams at the visitors and bangs on their communication glass. After sometime her eyes return to blue and flick.

Seeing she is okay John calms down, particularly when Mabel side-eyes him then pulls off the head gear to breathe in the visitor’s atmosphere of swirling gas.

“What have they told you?” John asks.

“Maybe time is a shell and we float along it?” Mabel says.

China’s Consumer Electronic Show 2025 SHOCKING PRODUCTS | Guangzhou

Strange Comix

John Deere SHUTS DOWN Production In US And Trumps Reaction Says It All!

What do you make of Donald Trump not ruling out using military force in his endeavour to acquire Greenland and the Panama Canal? Do you think this is a good idea or is Donald simply bluffing again?

Donald Trump was a businessman, who used to know how to manipulate others to get what he wants. He was very good at it.

Trump not always prefer war, because it takes too much of time and expensive.

Somehow, he has clearly conveyed what he wants to Greenland, Denmark and EU. They know they cannot refuse, and to add salt to the injury, Donald threatens with military force. The things will fall in place within his term.

Regarding Panama Canal, Donald is trying to take control of the Canal, so that US decides who can pass through.

Shipping routes control is the new weapon Trump wants to wield against China. Therefore, Trump targets to bring both Panama Canal and Arctic route under US control.

Women Are “TIRED OF WORKING” | I’m No Longer A Feminist| Women Hitting The Wall | I Need A Husband

I hear you all. I feel your pain.

U.S. Loses Fight Against World Anti Doping Agency

In April last year the U.S. government, with the prominent help from the New York Times, opened a campaign against the World Anti Doping Agency WADA and against Chinese sports competition.

Top Chinese Swimmers Tested Positive for Banned Drug, Then Won Olympic Gold – New York Times

The positive testing, which found a very minor digestion of a performance enhancing drug, was done by the Chinese anti-doping agency. It had immediately blocked the athletes from further competitions. A thorough investigation found that the drugs had ben ingested unwittingly. WADA had accepted those results. The athletes were free to take part on future competitions.

But as the U.S. did not like to compete against world class Chinese athletes it instigated a smear campaign against them.

Smearing The ‘Enemy’ – A Typical U.S. Info-Op – Moon of Alabama

The Chinese anti-doping agency as well as WADA handled the case by the book. There was a plausible explanation of a food contamination with tiny amounts of a drug during a swimming event in China. No other test before and after that event had been positive. The amount of drugs involved was too tiny to make a difference. WADA did not put out a public notice about the incident as no further action was required. No athletes were publicly named and shamed as none had been proven to be guilty.But that did not fit the U.S. messaging agenda that was designed to defame China. Thus other headlines in the usual western propaganda media were following up: …

WADA responded to the onslaught:

WADA thoroughly reviewed the cases in early 2024 with all due skepticism, and concluded that there was no evidence to challenge contaminated meat as the source of the positive tests and therefore decided not to appeal to CAS. None of the various other Anti-Doping Organizations appealed either. As WADA has indicated previously, once there is no evidence to contest a no-fault contamination scenario, no Anti-Doping Organization has ever appealed a case to convert a finding of no violation into one of a violation with no fault.
…
The politicization of anti-doping continues with this latest attempt by the media in the United States to imply wrongdoing on the part of WADA and the broader anti-doping community. As we have seen over recent months, WADA has been unfairly caught in the middle of geopolitical tensions between superpowers but has no mandate to participate in that.

In August 2024, in a slashback to the U.S., Reuters published an ‘Exclusive’ story about the illegal handling of doping cases by the U.S. anti-doping agency. USADA let athletes continue to competed even after the had been caught doping.

Athletes undercover? Global and US anti-doping agencies clash over tactics – Reuters / CNN

The World Anti-Doping Agency (WADA) says US agency USADA broke the global code by letting several athletes it had caught between 2011 and 2014 violating drugs rules go undercover and keep on competing without prosecution in exchange for information on other violators.USADA says the tactic is necessary and allowed, and wants to keep using it. WADA says it is against its code and that athletes caught breaking doping rules should not get to line up in races, potentially winning prize money and medals, without first being publicly prosecuted and sanctioned.

Now the U.S. had egg on its face.

But it did not relent in its efforts to make WADA do as it says.

The Biden administration, in consultation with Congress, decided to withhold its dues from WADA. But that attempt to get its will has also failed:

U.S. Funding Dispute With World Anti-Doping Agency Boils Over (archived) – New York Times

The United States had held back its funding to the agency, known as WADA, after losing faith in its ability to guard against the use of banned performance-enhancing drugs at events like the Olympics, the White House said.
…
On Wednesday, the antidoping agency responded by removing the United States, which had been the single largest country funder to the agency, from a position on its board.WADA said in a statement that in line with its rules, “representatives from a country which has not paid its dues are ineligible to sit on the foundation board or the executive committee.”

Loss of the board seat is automatic, the agency added.

The bullying campaign the Biden administration has led against WADA to bend it to its will did not achieve even one of its preferred results:

U.S. policy toward WADA has been led by Dr. Rahul Gupta, the Biden administration’s drug czar, who oversees the White House Office of National Drug Control Policy.
…
Dr. Gupta’s chief demand was that WADA submit to an outside audit of its operations. He also said that WADA needed to drop a defamation lawsuit it filed against American antidoping authorities, who have accused WADA of covering up the positive tests. And he wanted proof that an ethics complaint filed against him — that appeared designed to have him kicked off WADA’s executive committee — was dropped.But despite a lengthy back and forth between the White House and WADA — including face-to-face meetings in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia’s capital, last month — the agency failed to go along with Dr. Gupta’s demands. It also signaled that if the United States failed to pay there would be consequences and WADA would find alternative funding.

In Riyadh, an Olympic official told a White House official that failure to pay U.S. dues could affect the country’s ability to host or participate in the Olympic Games, according to two people familiar with the exchange who spoke on the condition of anonymity because they were not authorized to speak publicly.

The U.S. had launched a smear campaign against WADA. It has stopped to pay its share for WADA and lost its executive committee seat.

Rejecting to be bullied WADA and the International Olympic Committee are pulling on the same string.

Should the U.S. not relent in its attempts to break the rules future Olympic events, like the 2034 Winter Games planned for in Salt Lake City, may well move to other places.

U.S. athletes, which USADA allows to take part in competitions despite their doping, may well be excluded from future events.

The U.S. is convinced that its Might Makes Right.

But while bullying may work against weak European ‘allies’, it fails when it tries to bend international organizations which have the backing of the rest of the world.

Posted by b on January 9, 2025 at 14:42 UTC | Permalink

If the gratuity is included on the bill, do you still tip? If so, what is the appropriate amount?

Luckily my wife is the math science person and scans the receipts looking to see if the numbers look correct. One thing she’s noticed is some restaurants will do suggested tips based on the total amount which includes the tax and some will do the suggested tip on the total amount excluding tax.

Whatever the suggested amount is, she always takes the total before tax, calculates the tip, then adds the tax on top of that.

Nuclear Powered Evolution | The Wolves of Chernobyl Reveal Human Potential

Super interesting.

What is life like for an average Chinese person in modern China?

I’m a young woman living in Shenzhen, two years out of university.

My Job and Income

I work as an Internet Product Manager with a monthly salary of 12,000 CNY (~1,650 USD). Thanks to my company paying the highest tier of social insurance and housing fund contributions, and additional government subsidies for elder care and rental support, which means I have pay 0 tax to government, my actual take-home pay exceeds 12,000 CNY.

Expenses and Savings

My monthly expenses range from 4,500 to 5,000 CNY (~620–690 USD). I only use a credit card for daily expenses and have no other loans. In 2024, I saved over 53,000 CNY (~7,300 USD). Here’s the breakdown of my 2024 spending:

Travel: 28.53% (24,999.97 CNY / ~3,450 USD)
Housing: 24.31% (21,302.99 CNY / ~2,940 USD)
Food & Dining: 20.26% (17,751.62 CNY / ~2,450 USD)
Entertainment: 7.74% (6,781.14 CNY / ~940 USD)
Social Gifts: 6.50% (5,696.86 CNY / ~790 USD)

Typical Weekdays

8:37 AM: Leave home for work. (Sometimes I wake up at 5:45 to swim, 7:00 for yoga, or as late as 8:20.)
9:00 AM: Arrive at the office, clock in via app.
9:40 AM: Finish breakfast, start working.
11:45 AM–2:00 PM: Lunch break with lights off for a nap in the office.
2:00–5:45 PM: Continue working.
5:45–6:22 PM: Dinner and leave the office.
6:30 PM: Clock out at the metro station and head home.

Evenings are flexible but typically involve:

6:30–7:00 PM: Shower, tidy up.
7:00–9:00 PM: Watch TV shows or movies on my projector.
9:00–10:00 PM: Study on Bilibili.
10:00–10:40 PM: Read.
10:45 PM: Sleep.

Occasionally, I’ll go out for dinner, catch a movie, or meet up with friends instead.

Weekends and Holidays

Weekends vary between relaxing at home, hiking, or going to the cinema. I’m picky about films and theater setups, often joining premiere events or heading to Hong Kong for rare screenings like HKIFF. Sometimes, I take short trips nearby or meet friends.

For vacations, I budget for travel each year. China has seven public holidays annually, and I had 9 days of paid leave in 2024 (10 in 2025). In 2024, I toured eight cities in Hunan Province and traveled to France and Switzerland.

Life Goals and Reflections

While my lifestyle and income in Shenzhen are modest by local standards, I’m content and feel fortunate. I’ve paid off my student loans (32,000 CNY / ~4,400 USD, interest-free post-graduation due to COVID), built savings, achieved financial independence, and even support my parents.

My next goal is to save 300,000 CNY (~41,500 USD) while maintaining my quality of life, to fund my education abroad. I’m considering Leiden University or NUS for their Indonesian Studies programs.

After completing my graduate program, I might take another gap year or return to China to work as a rural teacher. It will depend on my savings and mindset at the time. I just hope my application is successful.

Chinese Showing American’s How They Live Their Life On RedNote

The Sun Prison

Submitted into Contest #282 in response to: Write a story set in a world of darkness where light is suddenly discovered.… view prompt

Jim LaFleur

The air hung thick and heavy, a damp shroud clinging to the rough-hewn stone walls. In the perpetual twilight of the dungeon, phosphorescent moss crawled across the upper reaches of the cavern, its sickly green glow barely enough to cast shadows. The silence lived and breathed, punctuated by the metronomic drip of water, the skittering of unseen creatures in the deeper tunnels, and the rhythm of resigned breathing from the huddled forms in their cells. Dax shifted on his cot of woven reeds, the coarse fibers a constant reminder of his imprisonment. Time had lost all meaning here, the monotonous routine blurring into an endless present.He was a man hewn from the shadows themselves, privation having stripped away all softness from his features, leaving only sharp angles and harder truths. His eyes, when they caught the wan glow of the moss, held an ember of defiance that years of confinement had failed to extinguish. The other prisoners looked to him, drawn to the quiet strength that radiated from his steady gaze. Yet beneath that hardened exterior, a cancer of resentment festered, feeding on memories of the injustice that had cast him into this lightless abyss.Tonight, something different stirred in the stagnant air. During the evening’s meager ration of fungal gruel, a tremor had rippled through the stone, a vibration that resonated in his marrow. The other prisoners huddled closer together, their fears given voice in whispered tales of the earth’s wrath, of chasms that swallowed entire sections of the prison. But Dax felt something else, a sensation so foreign he almost didn’t recognize it: hope.Back in the confines of his cell, his fingers discovered a new imperfection in the wall. A hairline fracture, nearly invisible in the perpetual gloom, but as he traced its length with his callused thumb, he detected an alien warmth. Curiosity, dangerous and long-dormant, flickered to life. He pressed his ear against the cold stone, straining to hear beyond the omnipresent silence. At first, there was nothing but the thunder of his own pulse. Then, a subtle thrumming, a delicate vibration that seemed to emanate from the rock’s very core.The next hour disappeared as he mapped the crack’s path, his fingers learning its subtle language. This was more than a mere fissure; it pulsed with an energy, emitting a luminescence so faint that only eyes accustomed to near-total darkness could perceive it. It was an intrusion, a phenomenon that had no place in their shadowbound realm. Ancient warnings surfaced unbidden – tales passed down through generations of prisoners, speaking of a light that brought madness, a celestial fire that consumed flesh. The elders spoke of a time before the darkness, when blinding radiance and scorching heat had driven humanity beneath the earth. Light, they insisted, was death itself.Yet as Dax studied the barely perceptible glow, a different narrative took shape in his mind. The crack didn’t feel malevolent; it felt vital, alive. It stood as a tiny beacon in his endless night, whispering of possibilities beyond the suffocating confines of his subterranean existence. He imagined what lay beyond the stone – not the apocalyptic inferno of legend, but perhaps… freedom.His gaze swept over the neighboring cells, taking in the faces etched with fear and resignation. They clung to the familiar darkness, their minds bound by ancient superstitions. But Dax had always walked a different path, challenging the accepted order. The whispers of doom only strengthened his resolve to investigate. The defiance that had earned him his sentence stirred once more, burning away the cobwebs of complacency. He would not be ruled by fear. He would discover what lay beyond the crack, regardless of the cost. The faint, rhythmic pulsing of the light called to him like a siren’s song, an irresistible invitation into the unknown.***

Time dissolved into a blur of stone against metal, each day marked by the careful excavation of his salvation. Dax worked in the shadowed recesses of his cell, his movements concealed from passing guards by a strategic arrangement of his meager possessions. The sharpened metal shard he’d stolen from the tunnel maintenance tools was crude but effective. He chipped away at the crack with methodical precision, each fragment of stone a small victory against his imprisonment.

The work demanded utmost stealth, forcing him to time his strikes between the guards’ rounds. His muscles burned, his hands raw and weeping, but the crack’s evolving presence drove him onward. What had begun as a mere thread of warmth transformed into something more profound – a pulsing vein of energy that seemed to respond to his touch. The obsession consumed him, the mystery of what lay beyond eclipsing all thoughts of caution.

The change in him did not go unnoticed. His customary stoic demeanor had crystallized into something harder, more focused, his gaze fixed on horizons only he could see. The whispers began as ripples through the cell block, carrying undercurrents of unease and suspicion. Old Man Hemlock, whose weathered face bore the marks of decades in darkness, approached Dax’s cell one evening. His milky eyes, long since adapted to the eternal twilight, held ancient fears.

“Dax,” he croaked, his voice carrying wisdom. “What you’re doing – it goes against the natural order. Some barriers exist for our protection.”

Dax’s hand stilled on his tool, irritation flickering across his features. “Protection from what, old man? From a life beyond these walls? From truth?”

“From annihilation!” Hemlock’s voice cracked with urgency. “The ancients didn’t choose the darkness on a whim. They fled here to survive!”

“They fled from stories,” Dax countered, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Tales meant to keep us compliant, accepting of our chains.”

“They’re warnings, boy! Written in the bones of those who came before!” Hemlock’s rising voice drew unwanted attention. A guard materialized from the shadows, his cowled figure a darker blot against the general gloom. The old man retreated, his warnings dissolving into mumbled prayers.

Dax returned to his work with renewed determination, distancing himself from the collective fear that permeated the dungeon. Let them cower in their familiar misery. He sought something more, something beyond the stifling confines of accepted truth.

As the crack widened, it underwent a metamorphosis. The initial subtle warmth evolved into a distinct radiance that cast sharp-edged shadows on the cell walls. The air around the fissure crackled with static electricity, raising the hair on his arms and filling his mouth with the taste of lightning. The otherworldly phenomenon commanded attention, impossible to ignore or dismiss as mere imagination.

The tremors increased in both frequency and intensity. The stone shifted and groaned like a dying beast, raining debris from the ceiling. The prisoners’ fear transformed into naked panic, their cries echoing through tunnels that no longer felt secure. Even the guards moved with newfound urgency, their customary swagger replaced by nervous efficiency.

Then came the night that changed everything. As Dax worked at widening the breach, an unfamiliar presence filled the corridor. The usual heavy tread of the guards gave way to measured, purposeful steps. A figure emerged from the darkness, taller and more commanding than any guard. The Warden himself stood before Dax’s cell, his features obscured but his authority palpable.

Few prisoners had ever seen the Warden in person. He was more myth than man, his very name spoken in whispers. Now he stood in silence, studying the growing crack in the wall. The air grew thick with unspoken tension, the usual sounds of the prison fading to nothing. Dax remained frozen, his heart hammering against his ribs. He felt the weight of the Warden’s hidden gaze pierce his very soul.

The moment stretched like taught wire, ready to snap. Then, without a word, the Warden turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing in the renewed silence. His departure left Dax with a chilling certainty: he had been marked. Whatever game he had been playing, the stakes had just become immeasurably higher.

***

The Warden’s silent visitation cast a pall over the cell block. The low murmur of despair gave way to expectant silence, heavy with unspoken accusations. Dax felt the weight of countless unseen eyes upon him, a mixture of fear, resentment, and morbid fascination. The other prisoners shrank from his presence as if he carried a contagion, their averted gazes speaking volumes. Even Hemlock maintained his distance now, offering only a sorrowful shake of his head when their eyes met across the darkness.

But Dax had moved beyond the reach of their fear. The Warden’s appearance, rather than dampening his resolve, had ignited something primal within him. He interpreted the official’s silence not as a warning, but as an acknowledgment of his inevitable success. The stone beneath his fingers had grown noticeably warmer, the light pulsing with an intensity that matched his quickening heartbeat. He worked with desperate efficiency, knowing that time was no longer his ally.

Sleep became an abandoned luxury. He labored through the artificial night cycles, each strike of his tool precisely timed between guard rotations. The air grew thick with powdered stone that coated his lungs and stung his eyes, but he pressed on, driven by a vision of salvation that burned brighter than the mysterious light itself.

The crack’s transformation accelerated with each passing hour. What had begun as a mere whisper of luminescence now cast a corona of light that painted his cell in sharp relief, too bright to look at directly. The air shimmered around it like heat waves over sun-baked stone, carrying an electric charge that made his skin tingle. The other prisoners, despite their terror, found themselves drawn to the phenomenon, their eyes wide with horrified wonder. The boundary between myth and reality blurred, leaving them stranded in uncertainty.

Without warning, the most violent tremor yet rocked the prison. Chunks of ceiling crashed down, and fissures raced across the walls like lightning. The very foundations of their underground world seemed to cry out in protest. Panic erupted, screams echoing through the tunnels as sections of the prison began to collapse. Guards abandoned their posts, their training forgotten in the face of primal fear.

The tremor’s violence weakened the wall around the crack significantly. Through the widening gap, Dax caught his first glimpse of the world beyond – a searing brightness that made his eyes water and his heart race. Fresh air rushed through the opening, carrying scents so alien and intense that they made him dizzy. The moment of truth had arrived.

Gathering his remaining strength, he raised the worn metal shard one final time. Every ounce of frustration, every moment of oppression, every dream of freedom focused into a single, desperate strike.

The wall gave way with an anticlimactic crunch. A cascade of debris exploded inward, and with it came an avalanche of light so intense it felt like a physical blow. Dax staggered backward, crying out as the brightness seared his dark-adapted eyes. Around him, chaos erupted. Prisoners screamed in terror, some collapsing to the ground, others pressing themselves against the far walls of their cells. The familiar green glow of the moss vanished, overwhelmed by the white radiance that now flooded their world.

Through streaming eyes, Dax made out the Warden’s silhouette at the corridor’s end, standing motionless before the onslaught of light. There was no surprise in his posture, no alarm – only an air of grim inevitability, as if watching a tragedy play out exactly as foretold.

Ignoring the chaos erupting around him, Dax stumbled toward the opening. The air grew hot and metallic as he approached, each breath burning in his lungs. The groaning of stone intensified behind him – the prison itself seemed to be collapsing, as if unable to endure the intrusion of such alien brightness. There was no time for second thoughts.

He forced himself through the jagged opening, feeling the broken stone tear at his flesh. Then he stood in a world of white fire. His first breath of outside air felt like swallowing molten metal. He blinked rapidly, tears streaming down his face, but the intensity of light remained overwhelming. The ground beneath his feet radiated heat, its surface a mirror that doubled the assault on his senses. He had imagined freedom would feel like a victory – instead, each moment brought new waves of agony.

This was freedom – but where was the world he had imagined? There were no welcoming vistas, no gentle breezes, no signs of life. Only an endless expanse of white emptiness stretched before him, shimmering with deadly heat. The light wasn’t merely bright; it was a physical presence, pressing down on him with crushing force, hammering against his eyes and burning his exposed skin.

He staggered forward, each step an act of defiance against the growing weakness in his limbs. The ground was featureless, a blank canvas of blinding white that offered no reference points, no sense of direction or distance. The silence here was absolute – not the living silence of the prison with its subtle sounds, but a dead silence that spoke of complete desolation.

As his initial euphoria faded, a creeping horror began to take its place. This wasn’t an escape to freedom – it was an exile into hell. Through the haze of pain and disorientation, movement caught his eye in the distance. Dark shapes stood out against the white void, offering a desperate promise of shelter or companionship.

He lurched toward them, his parched throat making each breath a torment. As he drew closer, the shapes resolved themselves into a scene from nightmare. Skeletons lay scattered across the barren ground, their bones bleached white by endless exposure. Some were curled into fetal positions, final gestures of protection against the merciless light. Others had fallen mid-stride, their skeletal forms frozen in eternal flight. Beside many lay crude tools – improvised implements that mirror his own weapon of liberation.

Nausea rose in his throat as understanding dawned. The tools’ workmanship was unmistakable – prison-made, carrying the same desperate craftsmanship as his own metal shard. These were his predecessors, other rebels who had questioned the wisdom of darkness, other fools who had sought the supposed freedom of the surface. He knelt beside one skeleton, its skull tilted skyward in a silent scream of realization.

The truth hit him with the force of physical blow. The prison wasn’t a cage – it was an ark. The darkness, the damp, the eternal twilight – these weren’t punishments, but shields. The legends weren’t superstitions, but warnings distilled from the blood and bone of those who came before. The surface world wasn’t paradise, but purgatory, a realm made uninhabitable by the very light he had so desperately craved.

He looked up at the white sky, source of this eternal torment, and bitter laughter bubbled up in his raw throat. Everything he had believed was a lie – not the lie he had suspected, of jailors trying to keep their charges compliant, but the lie he had told himself about the nature of freedom. The Warden’s inscrutable silence took on new meaning – not cruelty, but perhaps a deep and terrible pity for yet another soul about to learn the hardest truth.

His thoughts turned to those he had left behind, still huddled in their protective darkness. They were the truly free ones – free from this killing light, free from the knowledge he now possessed. An overwhelming survival instinct surged through his burning body. His only hope lay in returning to the sanctuary he had so foolishly rejected.

He turned back toward the prison entrance, now visible as a dark tear in the white wasteland. The sound of collapsing stone grew louder – the entire structure was failing, his act of defiance threatening to destroy humanity’s last refuge. He began crawling, his blistered hands leaving bloody prints on the scorching ground. Each movement was agony, but the darkness ahead drew him like a beacon – the darkness he had spent years cursing now promised salvation.

He reached the opening, choking on the dust of falling stone. The entrance had partially collapsed, leaving barely enough space to squeeze through. Summoning his last reserves of strength, he forced himself into the gap, feeling his flesh tear against the jagged edges.

He tumbled back into darkness, the sudden absence of light shocking his system. He lay gasping in the cool, damp air, each breath a reminder that he still lived. The screams had quieted, replaced by a stunned silence. As his tortured eyes readjusted to the gloom, he saw the other prisoners staring at him, their faces masks of horror and dawning comprehension.

Fighting waves of pain, he pushed himself to his feet. He staggered to the breach in the wall, where deadly light still poured through. With strength born of desperation, he began moving rubble to seal the gap, each stone a barrier between humanity and extinction. The prisoners watched in silence as he worked, their fear transforming into understanding. He was no longer just another inmate.

When the last trace of light vanished and darkness once again embraced them, Dax turned to face his fellow prisoners. His face was ravaged, his eyes haunted by what they had witnessed, but his voice carried the weight of absolute conviction.

“The light is death,” he declared, his blistered skin cracking as he spoke, the words echoing through the silent chamber. “I have seen it. I have survived it. And I will not let any of you make the same mistake.”

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the faces turned toward him in the familiar, comforting gloom. “The Warden is gone. The old ways are gone. I am the Warden now. And this,” he gestured to the darkness, “this is our sanctuary. Our prison. Our life.”

In the shadows, heads nodded in acceptance. They had witnessed his transformation from rebel to guardian, from prisoner to protector. The cycle had come full circle, and the darkness – their eternal savior – reigned once more.

Thai Chicken Breasts

Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

4 (5 ounce) chicken breasts
3/4 cup coconut milk
2 tablespoons peanut butter
1 tablespoon Thai chili paste
1 tablespoon sesame oil
2 teaspoons soy sauce
1 teaspoon freshly minced ginger
1 clove garlic, thinly sliced

Instructions

In a lidded container, combine all ingredients and marinate overnight.
Remove chicken from container and sauté for 3 to 4 minutes on one side then turn over.
Add marinade to skillet, reduce heat, cover and braise chicken until done and the sauce has reduced to half, about 10 minutes.
Serve over basmati rice, garnished with whole peanuts and chopped green onion.

Notes

Because you are adding the marinade to partially cooked chicken, you must be sure the sauce gets fully cooked, reaching a temperature of 160 degrees F for at least 3 minutes.

Now that TikTok is banned in the US, will it now be a major foreign policy to have it banned for the whole world or other countries?

It would be a mistake!!

The best example is what happened in the US

The Americans HATE their FIRST AMENDMENT RIGHTS being taken away, as much as their guns

They demonstrated to US Hawks that if you try to take away their expression platforms, they would rather directly download Mainland China Apps and hand over their data to the CPC directly

19,000 Americans published their credit card details on XHS (Red Note) and asked the Chinese to “Go Crazy”

Plus it’s basically whack a mole

Chinese have 262 Social Media Apps on their Platforms in China catering to a combined user base ranging from 30,000 to 500 Million

They can always modify the basic language interface, create an “English” option and keep Americans and Westerners hooked

Impossible to ban one by one

They can even create apps and host them from Singapore and HK and Malaysia

Take India

The Chinese have introduced over 100 Online Gambling Apps in the last two years through Singaporean and Malaysian proxies, with their own Algorithms and Key Software

You can’t ban a platform

The Chinese could do it because back in 2009, they weren’t so dependent on the Internet as they are today

Only 11.5% of the Mainlanders in 2007 had access to the Internet versus 72.95% in 2023

By contrast 94.67% Americans have access to the Internet and use the internet for a minimum 50 minutes a day

It’s 100% in 8 Countries including Netherlands, Austria, Denmark, Norway and Sweden

China’s medical tourism industry is booming. Breakthroughs in Parkinson’s treatments help explain

Did your spouse make a ridiculous demand before signing the final divorce agreement?

Yup. We were going to split things down the middle with only gifts, things we brought into the marriage, my retirement from the state, and my car going to a specific person. He decided suddenly that my willingness to pay spousal support for five years and sucking my finances dry for nearly twenty years supporting him and his kooky schemes weren’t enough so he wanted half of my defined contribution retirement account, too. For anyone who knows, that’s almost impossible to do and would be a huge pain in getting done and drag things out for a long time. I balked. He insisted. We went to court and instead of splitting things and his getting alimony, I got it all but one nearly worthless house (under 50k). I didn’t even have to pay spousal support! His lawyer called right afterward and begged me to go back to the original agreement, but I told my lawyer, “He wanted so badly to drag this out and have the judge decide, he can pull up his big boy pants and take it.”

Americans Find Heartwarming Stories on Chinese App RedNote

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Great Feed Fiasco: A Case of Fowl Play

Ah, dear reader, welcome back to another delightful romp through the wild and wacky world of farm life, where mysteries abound, feathers fly, and no problem is too small for Sir Whiskerton, the farm’s most brilliant (and modest) detective. Today’s tale centers around a mix-up of monumental proportions—an innocent mistake by the farmer that turned the entire barnyard into a squawking, honking, and clucking battleground. Yes, this is the story of The Great Feed Fiasco: A Case of Fowl Play, where I had to crack the case and restore harmony before the chickens and geese declared an all-out war.

Grab your detective hats, dear readers, because this one’s a real egg-scapade.

The Morning Mayhem Begins

It all started on a seemingly ordinary morning. The sun was rising, the roosters were crowing (well, mostly Ferdinand—he’s quite the show-off), and the unmistakable sound of the farmer’s boots echoed across the yard as he made his rounds. Everything seemed perfectly normal… until it wasn’t.

“Sir Whiskerton!” Doris the hen screeched, flapping her wings wildly as she ran toward me. “Something terrible has happened!”

“Terrible! But also so outrageous!” Harriet clucked, waddling after her.

“Outrageous! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched, fainting dramatically onto a patch of straw.

I stretched lazily, flicking my tail. “Let me guess,” I said. “You’ve misplaced an egg again, or Rufus has been sniffing around the coop?”

“No, it’s worse than that!” Doris said, her feathers practically quivering with indignation. “The farmer gave us the wrong feed! It’s… it’s goose feed!”

“Goose feed!” Harriet squawked.
“Goose feed! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian echoed from the ground.

I raised an eyebrow. “Goose feed? Are you sure?”

“Positive!” Doris said, puffing out her chest. “It’s lumpy, it’s weird, and it tastes like sadness.”

“Oh, come now,” I said, smirking. “It can’t be that bad.”

“It’s an affront to chickens everywhere!” Doris declared. “You must do something, Sir Whiskerton. This is a matter of dignity!”

Before I could respond, a loud honk interrupted us. I turned to see Gertrude, the leader of the geese, marching toward us with her flock in tow, her beady eyes narrowed and her feathers ruffled.

“Whiskerton!” Gertrude honked. “We need to talk. The farmer gave us the wrong feed! It’s… it’s chicken feed!”

“Chicken feed!” one of her fellow geese echoed.
“Chicken feed! Oh, I can’t bear it!” another honked dramatically.

I blinked. “Wait, let me get this straight. The chickens got goose feed, and the geese got chicken feed?”

“Exactly!” Doris and Gertrude said in unison, glaring at each other.

“And it’s horrible!” Gertrude added. “Chicken feed is dry, tasteless, and utterly beneath us refined geese.”

“Refined?” Doris scoffed. “You honking feather-dusters wouldn’t know refinement if it pecked you on the beak!”

“Feather-dusters?!” Gertrude gasped, her wings flaring. “You overgrown pigeons wouldn’t know quality feed if it fell from the sky!”

“Ladies, please,” I said, stepping between them before things got ugly. “Let’s not ruffle any more feathers. Clearly, there’s been a mistake, and I’ll get to the bottom of it.”

The Investigation Begins

To solve the mystery of the great feed mix-up, I began by examining the evidence. I padded over to the chicken coop, where the offending goose feed was still piled in the trough. I took a sniff and wrinkled my nose. It smelled… earthy, with a hint of pond water. Not exactly appetizing.

Next, I made my way to the geese’s feeding area, where the chicken feed sat untouched. I gave it a sniff. Bland, dry, and utterly unremarkable.

“Alright,” I said, turning to the gathered crowd of chickens and geese. “It’s clear that the farmer accidentally switched your feeds this morning. But the question is, why? He’s usually so careful.”

“Maybe he was distracted,” Rufus suggested, wagging his tail. “You know how he gets when the tractor won’t start.”

“Or maybe he’s finally losing it,” Porkchop the pig said, munching on an apple. “I mean, the man talks to his scarecrow. That can’t be normal.”

“Porkchop,” I said, rolling my eyes, “focus. This isn’t about the farmer’s quirks. This is about solving the problem.”

“Solving the problem,” Ditto the kitten echoed, perched on my back as usual.

“Not now, Ditto,” I said.

“Not now,” Ditto grinned.

Feathers Fly

As I worked on a solution, tensions between the chickens and geese continued to escalate.

“Your goose feed is disgusting!” Doris clucked.
“Your chicken feed is garbage!” Gertrude honked.
“Disgusting! Garbage! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched.

“Enough!” I shouted, my voice cutting through the noise. “Arguing isn’t going to solve anything. If we want to fix this, we need to work together.”

“Work together?” Doris and Gertrude said in unison, looking skeptical.

“Yes,” I said firmly. “Now, let’s think. What do chickens and geese have in common?”

“We’re both birds?” Doris offered.

“We both have feathers?” Gertrude added.

I sighed. “Yes, but more importantly, you both rely on the farmer. He made a mistake, but he didn’t do it on purpose. Instead of fighting, why don’t you help him fix it?”

A Feathery Solution

With some coaxing (and a lot of diplomacy), I convinced the chickens and geese to work together. Doris and her flock gathered all the goose feed from the coop and carried it to the geese’s area, while Gertrude and her gaggle did the same with the chicken feed.

By the time the farmer returned, the feeds were back where they belonged, and the barnyard was peaceful once more. He scratched his head, looking puzzled, but ultimately shrugged and went about his day.

“Well,” I said, surveying the scene, “it looks like everything’s back to normal.”

“Back to normal,” Ditto echoed, batting at a stray feather.

“Not bad work, Whiskerton,” Rufus said, wagging his tail. “You really know how to keep the peace.”

“It’s what I do,” I said, smirking. “Though I must admit, this case was quite the… fowl-up.”

A Happy Ending

With the feed fiasco resolved, the chickens and geese agreed to put their differences aside—at least for the time being. Doris and Gertrude even shook wings (though not without some grumbling).

The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: even when mistakes happen, a little cooperation and understanding can go a long way. And as for me, Sir Whiskerton? I’ll always be here to sort out the farm’s quirkiest dilemmas—no matter how scrambled they get.

Until next time, my friends.

The End.

With Neighbors Like These… | Married With Children

Handing over all my inheritance to the ADC while incarcerated

Here is something that I have never mentioned.

When I was “retired”, I was sent to prison (at the ADC for my mothballing of my ELF probes), and that was exactly 35 years (to the month, and week) after I joined MAJestic.

And it happened three months after my mother died.

And as the oldest son, I was awarded an inheritance.

My inheritance included the house (a 24 or so plot of country land with a huge manor house, a pool, multiple car garages), a monetary amount worth a million and change, a Cadillac, and a bunch of furniture and stuff.

And all of it was seized by the State of Arkansas.

Reason:

Restitution and Fines: If an inmate owes restitution, fines, or court-ordered payments, the state has the authority to claim a portion of their inheritance to satisfy these debts. 

This is not unique to Arkansas and is a common practice in many states.

What? A few million dollars to pay for throwing me into the ADC?

Yes.

I left the ADC with $100, and the used clothing on my back.

If you think that I will EVER go back to the the American slave plantation ruled by demented, psychopaths you are an idiot.

I’m starting to get angry.

Let me chill.

Today… we start with this pieces of bullshit that is fresh off the “news” at Hal Turner. It’s a hoot!

UNPAID WAGES, Massive Protests

Hal Turner World May 02, 2025

Widespread unrest has erupted across China as President Donald Trump’s steep tariffs devastate the nation’s export-driven economy, triggering factory closures, unpaid wages, and massive protests by workers, The Daily Caller reported.

Riots and mass protests are spreading across China as economic fallout from Trump’s tariffs pushes the nation’s manufacturing sector to the brink, shuttering factories and leaving millions of workers without pay.

From industrial zones near Shanghai to the remote edges of Inner Mongolia, workers have taken to the streets demanding back pay and denouncing mass layoffs. The unrest comes amid a sharp drop in Chinese export orders.

The Wall Street Journal reports that Huang Deming, a garment exporter in southern China, has already laid off 30% of his staff after losing three U.S. clients. Qian Xichao, a textile factory manager, described cutthroat conditions in the domestic market.

“To be frank, personally speaking, all we can do is go out and look for new opportunities,” Qian told the Journal.

The labor unrest mirrors the protests in 2022 during President Xi Jinping’s strict COVID-19 lockdowns. At the time, government forces suppressed demonstrations through violent crackdowns. Analysts expect similar responses now as economic instability threatens the regime’s control.

MM Commentary

The truth is, all of China is Defiant.

People are enjoying the May Day holiday and have absolute faith in Xi Peng.

And the percentage share of the USA exports is tiny…tiny shit.

How do Americans manage to work 16 hours a day compared to the lazy Chinese?

In America…

China doesn’t have that many taxes and you don’t have to pay taxes if you make less than 5,000 RMB a month, yet in most areas, 2,000 RMB is enough to make ends meet.

Chinese people only have to pay the deed tax once when they buy a house (usually combined in the price of the house), and after that they don’t have to pay any more taxes. Never heard of house tax, land tax or anything like that.

The tuition fee for law school in China is 700 US dollars per year, while the tuition fee for law school in the United States is 80,000 US dollars per year.

China’s tuition loans are interest-free, and the Chinese Government also provides tuition fee reductions and exemptions for students from remote and impoverished areas, students in education and health professions, and students who join the military after graduating from university; students from economically disadvantaged families can apply for hardship assistance.

Almost everyone has a piece of farmland and a house in their hometown. The land is owned by the state, but the Chinese can use it for free. Farmers do not need to pay taxes for planting, and the government also provides subsidies.

There is no tipping culture in China. Buying a cup of coffee is the price of a cup of coffee, and there is no need to tip the waiter separately.

The cost of medical care in China is much lower than in the U.S. Ambulances in China are charged at $7 (RMB 50) for 3km and less, and $1 (RMB 7) per kilometer for more than 3km.

Prices in China are lower than in the United States. In most cities in China, you can buy 20-25 eggs for $3 (RMB 21) in a supermarket.

Therefore, Chinese people can support themselves with 1 job, while Americans have to work 2~3 jobs to support themselves, so you are saying that Americans work 16 hours a day.

Every year, more than 20 million people at home and abroad increase their income through paid blood donation, but in China, paid blood donation is illegal and prohibited.

The hidden way many Americans make ends meet: Selling their plasma

The practice has become an “essential income source” for millions of Americans, author says.

https://www.today.com/health/news/blood-plasma-donation-for-money-rcna77448

How did US prisoner blood infect thousands in the UK? Northeastern experts unpack the scandal

Over 30,000 victims of the contaminated blood scandal were given infected blood, mostly imported from the US, in the 1970s and 80s.

https://news.northeastern.edu/2024/05/24/uk-contaminated-blood-scandal/

How British patients were infected with HIV from US prisoners who donated blood for a few dollars

Inmate describes how they had sex in the line to donate plasma and used bribed peers to let them go ahead even when they were high risk

https://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/2024/05/20/how-british-patients-hiv-blood-donated-us-prisoners/

Only 5 countries allow plasma-for-cash sales — including Austria, Germany, Hungary, and the Czech Republic — but the United States is the biggest producer. Called the “OPEC of plasma,” the US produced blood products in 2021 worth upwards of $24 billion. That’s 2.69% of the country’s total exports.

Tim Boyd, mayor of Colorado City in Texas told the truth

What has a car salesperson said to you that resulted in you immediately leaving?

Was looking for a newer pickup ,it was a rather hot summer afternoon and took my hot rod out for a ride.

As I drove bye a new car dealership i spotted what I was looking for, a nice F250, so I pulled around and parked behind the dealership. Granted I had paint on my shorts and a older tee shirt, two salesman came calling as soon as they seem someone out in the lot. As they got closer one turned around and went back, the other older guy walks up and don’t you think that truck is a little out of your price range. I was more than a little shocked , I walked up to him so his nose was 2″ from mine, and said. “ You and your attitude just lost a cash sale”. His eyes looked upwards as he backed up.

All eyes were on me when I jumped into my bright red 911 Targa Porsche and slowly drove out of the lot. I can still see the old guy with his mouth wide open in disbelief.

No Property Taxes? The Shocking Truth About Life in China That Americans Never Expected

How did China became so successful in relatively short time, is it due to CCP Governess and forced labor, Chinese culture and work ethics, Competitive society due to large population forcing every one to work hard to succeed?

I say the CPC played a major role by ensuring excellent policies were in place to ensure maximum potential of the Chinese people was realized

I did some checking and found that nearly every single major Chinese founder or Researcher was the product of PUBLIC (STATE) SCHOOL & State University

Only three other countries boast such an achievement – Japan, USA and Germany

That is an example of a superb education system which spends money on education and where you have Nine years schooling without paying a dime and three more years schooling paying 200 Yuan a month

Not a single Chinese, including the poorest Chinese – will be denied the opportunity to study if he has the ability

Who made this possible?

Mao Tse Tung (Right side)

He shaped the education policies for China and emphasized on ensuring Chinese were educated including Women

In an era when Indian women were getting married at 13 and having kids at 15 – Chinese women could go to School and College as well

Among Asian Nations – China has 34% Women in its research workforce , higher than every other country including Japan (27%) or South Korea (27%)

By comparison only the West has more with Germany (39%) leading, followed by US,UK and Netherlands (38%)

It’s 9% in Russia and 2.1% in India – among the lowest in the world

Chinese Teachers teaching local schools earn between 8,100 to 21,300 Yuan a month which is equivalent to ₹ 36,300/- to ₹ 122,500/- a month in India and $ 51,709 to $ 111,333 a year in USA

That’s a lot of money they pay teachers out there

A Young International School Teacher can earn 26,000 Yuan Salary, 4000 Yuan housing allowance, 8000 Yuan Airplane allowance and a bonus of 75,000 Yuan for Silver Medalist and 100,000 Yuan for Gold Medalist at the Physics Or Math olympiad

That’s equivalent to ₹ 54.50 LPA CTC in India

They pay teachers what is paid to IT Top earners in India

In Public School, a High Grade Teacher can earn 20,000 Yuan a month plus Social Security Fund of 531,000 Yuan on an average after 20 years teaching

That’s equivalent to ₹ 31.80 LPA CTC in India

So qualified and talented people will work as teachers and help develop the minds

Ultimately the Government has to formulate the best policies for National Development

The CPC has done that superbly

Better than anyone else in the planet for the last 50–60 years

The products of their foundation are in front of our eyes

And notice and see if CPC talks about how China will be an emerging power in Artificial Intelligence 😂😂😂

They will say “Still a long way to go and a lot of learning”

China Says NO This Time! Europe’s Economy Faces Collapse While the U.S. Struggles to Keep Up.

If China and the US go to war, will the US use its top secret weapons against China?

It’s only a viable course of copium, if you have the manufacturing base to back up the mass production of these “unrevealed” superweapons.

In WWII, german tanks were so good that to kill one german tank, the allies would have to lose five. But the Germans still lost the war, simply because the US and USSR manufacturing was more than 5 times that of Germany.

If the US is both technologically and productively more advanced than China, then the US can dominate China in war.

However the reality is:

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12% vs 35%. By these numbers, whatever top secret US weapons would have to be at least 3 times as good as top secret Chinese weapons, for the US to start gaining the upper hand in war.

Gaeng Phed Kai (Red Chicken Curry)

The Thai name of this dish literally means ‘hot chicken curry.’ There is a very similar recipe for a green curry (Gaeng Khiao Wan Kai).

As always, the quantities are up to you.

Ingredients

Curry Paste

5 to 10 dried red chiles
10 cloves garlic, chopped
1 teaspoon chopped galangal
1 tablespoon thinly sliced lemon grass
1/2 teaspoon zest of ‘kaffir’ lime (ordinary lime will do)
1 teaspoon chopped coriander (cilantro) root
5 black peppercorns
1 tablespoon roasted coriander seeds
1 teaspoon roasted cumin seeds
Dash of fish sauce
1 to 2 teaspoons fermented shrimp paste (kapi)

The Curry

6 ounces chicken (in smallish bite-size pieces)
1/2 cup coconut milk
4 ounces Thai eggplant (these are small round eggplants)
2 kaffir lime leaves (or a little lime zest)
1 tablespoon sweet basil
2 tablespoons fish sauce
1 tablespoon palm sugar
Oil for cooking
1 to 3 tablespoon red curry paste

Instructions

Curry Paste

Mix in a mortar and pestle or food processor. Will keep about a month in a refrigerator. You can buy commercial red curry paste (Mae Ploy brand is quite good), but as far as I am aware all commercial pastes contain MSG and preservatives.

The Curry

Cut the chicken up, then briefly fry the curry paste until fragrant, reduce the heat, add the coconut milk slowly, and continue to stir whilst cooking until a thin film of oil appears on the surface.
Add the chicken and other ingredients except the eggplant. Bring to a boil and cook until the chicken begins to change color. Adjust the flavors to suit yourself. When it is at a boil again add the eggplant and continue until the chicken is cooked through.
Serve over rice, or in a serving bowl with other Thai dishes.

How Would Mao Zedong Cope With Trump?

This is supremely great.

Ghosts of Winter Future

Submitted into Contest #281 in response to: Write about a mysterious guest who arrives at a party — but no one knows who they are.… view prompt

John Rafanelli

‘Winterfest’ was always a special holiday for the people of Augusta Cove, Long Island. A small bay town, where everyone knows everyone, all their happy memories along with all of their dark secrets. The yearly festival was a great place to set aside your grievances, and enjoy the magical winter holiday together, as a community.December 19th, 1999, may be one of the town’s most memorable holiday festivals, and not for a good reason. It was the day Rory Falco was murdered.The town spent the last few weeks getting ready for the festival. For some it was a distraction from the everyday grind. For others it was an annual tradition, one that always happened, and always will happen. Main Street was alive with people and families of all ages.At the edge of Main Street is a big park. Inside the park sits a giant white tent, illuminated by lights of red and green; blue and white; saffron and red. Colors welcoming to all.There’s a children’s choir standing outside the tent, conducted by Ms. Davis. They are singing as guests from all across the town shuffle their way into the tent. Noel Winter stands in line waiting to enter. She looks across at the choir and hears;“Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright … “She’s lost in a trance listening as a grumpy old man cuts to the front of the line, bumping Noel from her tranquility, “Excuse me, sir!” she yells.“Excuse nothing, squirt,” The old man quips.Noel ignores the intrusion and is drawn back to the music.

“Round yon virgin Mother and Child. Holy infant, so tender and mild…”

She looks back at the children singing the beautiful melody. Some are off key, like young Bobby Hinkins, but others are in perfect harmony. Noel smiles as she looks over at the twins Holly and Rory Falco. She sees them go into perfect harmony, gifting the town with the lyrical hook.

“Sleep in heavenly peace…. Sleep in heavenly peace…”

The line moves forward bringing Noel to the front of the ‘security’ checkpoint. It’s an old lady sitting behind a white folding table.

“Excuse me ma’am,” The lady behind the table says. Noel remains silent. “Excuse me, MA’AM!” she yelps out, a little louder.

“Oh, sorry. I was caught up in the song. Hi, How are you?” Noel asks.

“Good. Thank you for asking, young lady.”

“Oh, you flatter me. I’m not young anymore,” Noel nervously says.

“Neither am I,” the lady behind the table responds. She searches Noel up and down. “Do I know you? You look familiar.”

“I don’t think you do ma’am.”

“Please, call me Beverly.”

“Well Beverly, if we’ve met it was a long, long time ago.” Noel looks at Beverly. “I used to live here, but my family moved out when I was just about nine or ten.” She looks around and points to the choir. “Probably not much older than those angels right there.”

Beverly smiles. “They sure are precious, aren’t they?” They both nod. “So why did you leave?”

“Family stuff. Dad was a drunk. Mom left us. You know, typical family dynamics.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs?”

“Noel. Nice to meet you Beverly.”

“Nice to meet you too. What brings you back to the Cove?”

“Revenge.”

Beverly is a little startled and just looks at Noel. Noel smiles. “I’m just kidding.” They both laugh. Beverly a little too much. “I was just passing through. I have a big meeting in New York City tomorrow and I always had such great memories of the festival so I wanted to see it again.”

“Well, once a part of the Cove, always a part of the Cove.” They both smile. “Don’t let me keep you any longer. Go in and enjoy the festivities.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Parker.”

Beverly looks at her startled. Noel points to the nametag on Beverly’s shirt. They smile at each other as Noel enters the party tent.

Noel stands in the back of the tent, silently observing. She’s been here for about thirty minutes watching people. Studying every person who enters or leaves the party. She’s trying to be left alone and is purposely avoiding interacting with anyone. She’s holding some eggnog, not drinking it but using it as a prop to blend in, when someone taps on her shoulder.

“Excuse me, Noel?”

Noel turns around and sees Walter Parker, the school’s English teacher, standing next to her.

“So, I take it you spoke to your mom?” Noel asks.

“Uhh, yeah. I’m Walter.”

“Hi Walter.”

“As you also know, news travels fast in this town. You used to live here?”

“I did, a long time ago.” Noel tries to move the conversation along.

“So I figured I’d come talk to the mysterious former Cover.”

“Sorry, I’m only here for tonight. Then I have somewhere entirely else to be.”

“I get it. But you’re here now. Can I have this dance?

Noel looks around the party and see’s the choir entering the tent.

“No thank you Walter.”

“Let me buy you a drink?”

“The drinks are free.”

The students walk past them. Holly and Rory stop for a second. Noel looks at them both, as Holly starts to talk. “Mr. Parker, did you hear us?”

“I sure did, and you were brilliant.” He rubs her head, he looks over at Rory. “And so were you champ!”

The two giggle and skip away in childish glee. Noel watches them disappear into the party. Noel, who knew she would need an out from this conversation was slowly pouring her drink onto the floor. She holds up her empty glass and smiles at Walter.

“How about that drink?”

Walter eagerly grabs her empty cup and runs off.

“I’ll be right back!”

Noel, with intentions to avoid him the rest of the night slips into the party to remain incognito.

Another ten minutes have passed, and Noel has now stationed herself on the other side of the tent looking out at the crowd. The adults are mostly drunk, dancing and mingling. The children are running around with innocent joy. She looks up and see’s Walter searching the crowd holding an extra eggnog. Before Walter can look at her she dips down and hides behind a balloon arch. She bumps into someone.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

Her words are cut short as Holly looks up at her.

“Do I know you?” Holly asks.

“I don’t think so squirt,” Noel responds.

“My dad calls me that!”

“So did mine.” Noel smiles.

Holly smiles, as she looks out into the party. “Sorry I gotta go, my hiding spot’s been compromised.” She points out to Rory in the crowd creeping forward. Before she goes, she whispers, “I like your hair, I wish I was brave enough to dye it red and purple.” Holly jolts off, running away.

“Maybe one day you will be,” Noel says to no one, as she scans out at the crowd and watches Rory chasing after Holly. Noel crouches and follows them through the maze of people. She’s weaving and observing, avoiding contact, but never losing sight of Rory or Holly for what seems like an eternity. Finally she bumps into someone’s lower back. Ms. Davis abruptly stops her conversation, turns around, and looks at Noel creeping along the floor.

“Sorry about that, ma’am,” Noel says as she stands upright.

“Do I know you?” She looks Noel up and down. “You look familiar.”

“No, you don’t know me.”

“I never forget a face, and yours is familiar.”

“I’m sorry if you think I’m someone else. And I’m sorry for bumping into you,” Noel says as she scans the crowd. She sees Rory and Holly playing around on the dance floor. Ms. Davis shakes her head and returns to her original conversation. Noel, trying to blend in, starts to sway on the edge of the dance floor and begins singing along to the song.

“When I first saw you, I already knew, there was something inside of you…”

Ms. Davis hears the voice and her ears perk up. She looks at Noel singing. She knows the face is familiar, but that voice is so recognizable.

“Something I thought I would never find. Angel of mine.”

While Ms. Davis is processing Noel’s voice, Noel is searching the party. She sees Holly dancing alone in the middle of the dance floor. She panics, searching for Rory, and finally spots him exiting the tent. She proceeds to chase after him. As she is running away something clicks in Ms. Davis’ mind.

“It can’t be?” Ms. Davis says to herself, as she watches Noel run out of the tent, then looks over at Holly on the dance floor.

Noel jets out of the tent looking into utter darkness. She hears some noises in the distance and follows them. She reaches into her jacket and grabs her pistol.

The far edge of the park leads into a small forest. Noel stops at the edge of it listening. She hears some branches break. She holds her gun in front of her as she creeps towards the noise. Eventually she comes across an old man hunched over Rory, pointing a pistol at him. Rory is cowering on the dirt floor.

Noel raises her gun and points it at the man’s back. “Let him go.”

The old man slowly turns towards Noel, shifting his gun from Rory to her. It’s the same person who bumped into her earlier in the night. They stare at each other for a few seconds. “I’m afraid I can’t do that squirt.”

“Dad?” Noel whispers.

“Drop your gun, and let me explain.”

Noel doesn’t move. Rory looks on, but is too afraid and too confused to move. He lays there paralyzed.

“It was you?” Noel asks. Her world is shattered.

“I didn’t have any other options.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Let me explain.”

Noel cocks the hammer of the gun back.

“Holly… please?”

“I’m not Holly anymore. She’s back there at the party.” Noel waves the gun off into the distance. “I’m Noel now.”

“Since when?”

“Since Rory disappeared, and my whole world was shattered. You became a drunk. And mom ran away in the middle of the night.”

“Squirt… I’m sorry,” Dad humbly pleads.

“You were always blaming mom for Rory’s disappearance.” Noel’s eyes start to tear up. “Ironic, isn’t it?” Noel waves the pistol frantically at her Dad.

“Let’s talk about this.”

“Now you want to talk? You neglected me, obsessing over your life’s passion of finding a way to go back in time. Then that consumed you, and eventually killed you on one of your test runs!” Noel shouts.

“Well, I see you picked up where I left off and figured out the solution.”

“Not till forty years later. After spending several years of neglect in foster care. Then I spent my twenties and thirties on the streets begging for money anyway I could. My forties were spent strung up on any drug or liquor that would numb the pain.” Noel is frantic at this point. “Finally, on my fiftieth birthday, I overdosed. I was laying in a hospital detox bed, thinking back to when life was happy. So I found your old journals, and picked up where you left off, determined to come back here, and change the one event that turned our lives to shit”

“I knew you were always smart.”

“Stop pretending like you care!”

Dad starts to laugh. “Pretend like I care?” He starts to get angry. “The only reason I’m here is because I care!”

“That’s original, coming from a man who’s about to murder his son, and has a gun pointed at his daughter.”

“Let me ask you the age-old question. If you could go back in time and kill Hitler when he was a child, would you do it?”

“If I wasn’t using my only jump to come here? Yes.”

“Ahh. You can only jump into the past once? And back to your present once as well?”

“Yes. But that’s not the point. This is 1999 Long Island, not 1889 Austria-Hungary.”

“The point is… Rory grows up to be worse than Hitler.”

“Liar!” Noel steadies her wavering hand and focuses her gun at her Dad. “Let him go.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Dad says as he cocks the hammer of his gun. “Do you know how hard it is for a father to spend years developing one plan? One which requires him to go back in time and kill his only son?”

“Why not go back in time and never have him in the first place?”

“I thought of that, but then you wouldn’t be born either.”

“Don’t pretend like you’re doing this for me.”

“This is all for you, so you can live, and live in a free world.”

“Why today, and not when he was a baby?”

“I told you, it was hard. I’ve been back in the nineties for eight years now. Always mustering up the courage to kill him. But unfortunately, I’m a coward.”

“Until now. What changed?”

Dad pauses for a second before responding. “I guess I was stalling, hoping for a better solution. But in six days on Christmas he will kill you.”

“Bullshit!”

“At first we thought it was an accident, and felt bad for him in our sorrow. But then we learned he did it on purpose.”

“Your web of lies are intoxicating. Let him go.”

“I can’t squirt.”

“DON’T CALL ME THAT!”

“I know you don’t believe me, and I know it seems like your life sucked in this timeline.” He stops pointing the gun at Noel and now focuses it on Rory. “But at least you have a life.” Dad is trying to plead his case. “And the world is still at peace.” Rory looks at the barrel of the pistol and squirms.

A shot rings out.

Dad falls to the floor with a bullet hole in his shoulder. Noel starts to inch closer to Rory, but keeps her gun pointed at her dad. Dad slowly rises to his knees gripping his wound. “Please, you have to hear me out. As an adult, Rory is a bad person. He becomes a leader convincing millions to follow him to no end. He’s a tyrant. Everything Hitler did, he did bigger. If you spoke against him you were executed.”

“This is insane. You’re obviously still a drunk,” Noel interjects.

Dad starts to regain his composure, and is readjusting the grip of his gun. “He’s started a nuclear war with Russia, Japan, England, Italy and Germany. Our own air is polluted with nuclear toxins…”

Another shot fires from Noel’s gun. This one hits Dad in the chest. He falls to the floor. Noel is now next to Rory. He delusionally looks up at her.

“It’s okay. It’s over now.”

Rory just stares blankly into her familiar eyes. Dad starts to rise up again. “Please, you have to believe me,” he begs.

Noel starts to swing her gun towards her Dad for a third time. As she is in motion, Dad fires a shot and hits Noel in the head. She slumps to the ground. Dad weakly gets up and walks over to a shaking Rory. He points the gun at Rory’s head, looks away and pulls the trigger. He slouches down and hugs both of them.

“I’m sorry,” he begins to sob. He pulls out a small tablet from his backpack. He puts a watch on his wrist, Rory’s, and Holly’s. He pushes a button on the tablet and the world around him changes.

It’s now December 19th, 2053. Robert Falco is in the forest of Augusta Cove Long Island on a beautiful peaceful winter night. Blood is pouring down his shirt. Next to him are his two dead children. Robert stumbles to the edge of the forest. He looks out into the night sky. It’s normal, no toxic fog hanging in the air, no smell of burning debris. He can hear a children’s choir singing at the festival far away. It’s beautiful and haunting.

Robert digs two graves deep in the forest. It’s a slow effort because of his wounds and his sorrow. He lays Holly and Rory into the graves. He starts to fill the holes with dirt. As he does the choir echoes through the trees.

“Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright … “

In the dirt, above each covered hole, he etches their names. He sits upon the makeshift grave.

“Round yon virgin Mother and Child. Holy infant, so tender and mild…”

He thinks back about how in 1999 no one will ever find the body of Rory Falco, leaving it a cold case forever. He thinks of the terrible life he knows Holly will live. The children’s singing cutting through the forest gives him some clarity. Knowing that the world is at peace helps him come to terms with the idea that he and his family made the ultimate sacrifice for eight billion people. Robert lays down next to his children and falls asleep for one last time.

“Sleep in heavenly peace…. Sleep in heavenly peace…”

why Gen Z guys are scared to approach girls (and how to not be)

What was your biggest challenge moving to rural Thailand?

When you’re alone, by yourself only don’t do that.

When you are moving to rural Thailand, you will have two major challenges.

One is the language.

You won’t probably find anyone nearby who is speaking English even one word.

Daily communication issues are going to make your life very difficult if even possible.

Shopping, going to the pharmacy, meeting with doctors and dealing with Thai local administration are going to be challenging every single time you need it.

The second major challenge is distances.

You may find out that the nearest shop is twenty miles away and the hospital is even farther away.

Traveling 60 miles to the nearest private hospital isn’t really what you want when you have acute health problems.

The same with the immigration office.

You are going to be visiting them frequently rapporting yourself every 90 days, and long travel is a big disadvantage making it difficult.

You are not going to make it without a car.

You can forget about public transportation.

You won’t find it anywhere nearby you.

So if you’re going to live together with your Thai partner, who has a car and family nearby you, then you are going to be fine as long as you’re in good health.

You can probably forget about going to the beach frequently.

You will have difficulty getting a western food being dependent on the local food market.

You will probably have an issue with the local animals like mice’s eating your car cables and snakes coming to your house.

You will need better learn about snakes to be able to spot and distinguish between the venomous ones and not venomous.

You can handle non venomous snakes by yourself but you shouldn’t try to handle a venomous snakes by yourself.

Most Thai people have a dog’s and many of them to protect them against snakes.

Snake tongs must have.

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This one is non venomous snake.

What to do with it?

You can let them go inside your car engine compartment for chasing the mice away only effectively working option.

mice family inside the car causing damage to the car cables.

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What are the most challenging tasks for single-seat fighter pilots during combat missions?

I LOVE this question! And I appreciate the plural, tasks, as a recognition that there’s a whole lot of things happening in those planes. When I went operational, I always flew multi-crewed aircraft, the Prowler and Growler. However! I’m in the situation a lot of Super Hornet pilots are: we’ve done both! I only flew the E model, the single seat variety, in training. But in the F, the two seat version, in training you were essentially single seat. SO! What is harder about flying these bad boys?

Comms. Hands down. With multi-crewed aircraft, we can better divvy up who’s listening to what. We typically have 3–4 radios we’re listening to at the same time in combat. It was the hardest part for me in training. Single seat guys do get really good at listening to as much as they can, but 2 sets of ears trumps that.
Flying in formation. Whoa whoa! The flying part isn’t harder. But this goes back to the comms and sharing duties. Single seat guys and gals out there…tell me you didn’t wish there were someone there to help you when you’re hanging off lead’s wing, in the goo, making an approach into busy airspace and swapping frequencies every couple of minutes.
The Strike part of Strike/Fighter. We’re Navy. We’re tip, tip of the spear. We ain’t heading feet dry into uncontested airspace. Trust me E guys, when you can have the pilot run the show for A-A while your crewmate sets you up for weapons delivery, it is so much more efficient.
Lastly, keeping yourself entertained. I had to solo flight an E from the west to the east coast, with of course multiple stops in the middle. With no one to talk to except air traffic control, I was banging my head on the canopy in boredom.

Anyway…a little whimsy thrown in with some real world issues. Have at it guys in the comments! 😀

Shorpy

How serious is the Chinese military’s lack of experience?

Let me quote fellow respected Quoran Roland Bartetzko’s answer for my take on this question:

…. The advantage lies with us [the US military] because our last combat was captured on somebody’s iPhone 14…. The Chinese’ last combat was captured on oil and canvas.

He is right: Indeed, the US has fought many wars in just the past decade alone, perhaps a battle was even captured by someone’s iPhone 14.

An iPhone 14 that is most likely to be made in China.

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Now, Roland and the 4-star general he quoted is, of course, exaggerating. We all know that China went to combat with Viet Nam in the late 70s and 80s and have captured lots of fighting in colored film. But that is besides his point, and the point I am making as well.

The point is, ever since WW2, producing lots of quality equipment is much more important than experienced troops.

The fact remains that experience can be attained very quickly in event of all-out war, but production capacity cannot. Japan has probably one of the most experienced navies when it destroyed the US fleet at Pearl Harbor, but that hardly matters if the US could churn out a dozen more fleets in a year.

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The US built 24 Essex-class Carriers during WW2 alone. Japan has 18 carriers in total. If we count all other carriers including smaller escort carriers, the US has built a whopping 105 carriers throughout WW2.

Which country today do you think will be the one producing 105 carriers in a matter of years in case of war? The USA or China?

It doesn’t matter if US has 8 more carriers than China now, what matters is the potential to replace losses: Ships today are even less armored than small cruisers or even destroyers of WW2, a single hit from a hypersonic missile will cripple it. And speaking of missiles, China almost undoubtedly produces more and much better missiles than the US as well (which is still stuck with variants of the harpoon for anti-ship duties).

Things aren’t much prettier on land as well: What percentage of drones flying over the skies of Ukraine are DJI ones? Or from Chinese companies in general? 70%? 80%? I suspect that the number is even higher. Now imagine the country producing the drones for both countries decide to use their full production potential against Taiwan, or the US if it decides to even get close to that island in the case of a hot war. Could the US match up to even half the Chinese production figures? Probably not.

China’s lack of military experience is serious, that I agree. But it would only matter for really small-scale operations: It will not matter in case of a war between China and the US in the pacific. Production matters much more than experience, which may guarantee an advantage for the US in the initial battles. But the US will certainly loose once the war stretches out—it simply cannot match China in this aspect.

In fact, Admiral Yamamoto’s famous quote comes to mind:

“In the first six to twelve months of a war with the United States and Great Britain I will run wild with win victory upon victory. But then, if the war continues after that, I have no expectation of success.”

—-Isoroku Yamamoto

SolaCelestial

Submitted into Contest #281 in response to: Write about a mysterious guest who arrives at a party — but no one knows who they are.… view prompt

Kira Akina

A grand chandelier dangling with crystals lights up the immense ballroom with cool lighting. Suspended from the highest tier, at the center of the glass ceiling that opens up to the starry night, it twinkles as if it were a cluster of stars. Enclaved by a gradual spiral staircase-like ascension of upper floors, the ballroom is the centerpiece of the ground floor. White gardenias, orchids, and lilies paint the pillars, and wisteria pour out from the vases. Silver and gold sparkle throughout the room like moonlight on a lake. Anticipation fills the air as a summer breeze and rises, like mist attempting to inhabit every crevice of space feasible.Sophia wishes she was filled up just the same. She wouldn’t mind feeling it, the anticipation that is, however she was only able to see it. It had been quite some time since she felt. A resident of the castle for a while now, and she hadn’t experienced feeling for longer than that, she would have been concerned had she been capable. It wasn´t that she felt bad or negative, she was simply removed from any sensory episode really. A familiarity for emotions wasn’t lacking, she had felt in the expanse of her life, just not for some time. The idea of senses remained. It seemed as if she were severed from a part of herself. Though she wasnt’t currently able to participate with sensations, she was a pristine observer. Eyes like an eagle, to her the unseen was visible.Sable thick garments covered the man’s pale skin. Intriguing robes, impeccably made, but definitely antiquest. They didn’t look like anything she had seen in her own region. The gentleman was tall and slender, but not frail. And he stood upright with a slight tilt of the head, as if the tilt would shield him from notice. But it was impossible to overlook them, well, him… and them. Especially for Sophia. Her eyes appraised his ebony hair, just long enough to slightly cover his ears, shagged across his head. Boyish charm and masculine strength emanated from him all at once. Ice blue eyes shone from beneath eyebrows that seemed as if hand painted by an artist; accentuated by long black eyelashes they pierced like the tip of a sword to the heart.Magical. Tethered to this dark figure were wings, majestic like a wild stallion. Moonless black feathers. Luxurious and rich. Enormous, towering as if reaching into the universe to snatch up something special. The pair of them brimmed with ambiguous possibility.Everyone in Anastalia possessed gifts, but long ago the ancestors were visibly different. They were born under a brighter sun and with a different kind of beauty. Sophia heard rumors that those with powers of healing displayed what seemed like a thin layer of bark which covered their feet and wrists, and foliage sprouted from their heads as well as various places on their bodies. Shapeshifters subtly resembled leopards. They didn’t have fur, but looked as if different colors had penetrated their skin and spread like ink blotches. Possibly even similar to patchwork. In our day it would look like imperfection. Telekinetics displayed mismatched eye color, and what appeared like stretch marks or veins crawled up their necks, mid body, and thighs. But that was long ago and with every passing generation our gifts were fading away like dust, and they were all hidden on the inside escaping as only a whisper, none altered our physical appearance. Not for hundreds of years. No one in Anastalia had seen wings in centuries, if ever. This was something special. It was evidence. Evidence that magic was not dying, it still illuminated our world. It was hope.At that moment a quietly slumbering seed rose up from deep within Sophia, somewhere she was unaware existed. Gently at first and increasingly fierce, it was like a woman in labor. The sense was exhilarating and unpredictable, it seemed good, yet dangerous. She felt like she was radiating. She felt refreshed, she felt alive…she felt!There was something about this mystifying man. The phenomenon happening inside of her, almost uncontrollable, was compelling her towards him. At first she thought she was only in shock from feeling that it rattled her, but her feet began sliding out from underneath her causing her to lose her balance. A magnetar force, the strongest she had ever encountered beckoned. Determined not to knock over anyone or anything, while also committed to maintaining her free will to whatever degree attainable, she began to step forward. Not exactly walking, more guiding each pull of the leg, she somehow elegantly moved through the crowd of guests. Passing couples dancing her hands swept by silken and lace gowns, even velvet tailcoats. The aroma of flowers, perfume, and the fresh night air ushered in through the windows, her nose. When she realized how close she was to the man now it became more evident how enchantingly beautiful he was, she didn´t know if she was nervous or excited, or both.Every few centuries the moon gets so close to us that we get to see it up close, as if face to face with a friend, in all itś glory. It remains present all day, for three days. As a side effect of the moon´s intimate position our magic is temporarily enhanced. There is said to be a stone that resides somewhere on the moon that can reverse the disintegration of our powers that has been occuring over the generations. The Solacelestial ball is being held in celebration of a New Hope. And at this moment Sophia felt that hope, she held it so closely it hurt.As she neared the man, so close now, his back to her, slowly turning her direction she completely lost control. His essence had drawn her in at an accelerating pace, and just as he turned they were thrust into eachothers arms. Their eyes met. He gazed down at her in shock at first, shortly followed by a gentle smile. She shyly smiled back, and just as she noticed that the lovely man’s eyes were not like ice, for surrounding his pupils were vibrant golden supernovas, she vanished from before him.

…..

Darkness and silence.

Wrapped up in incomprehensible peace Sophia regained some kind of sense of awareness. Consciousness in its pure form. It was as if she was inside, outside and beside herself all at once. She felt complete symbiosis with all of creation. Plants, animals, elements, energy, and sound in complete harmony. Acceptance with the substances that converged to form spirit and intrinsic human nature, even those that she once may have found unfavorable were in unison. Darkness and light were not opposite, but the same. Everything that is, is One.

Suddenly fire and ice swirled like a supernatural hurricane fused with planetary and solar wind. The sound of soothingly fierce roaring water echoed into what seemed like eternity. A divine symphony buzzed and undulated returning her to recognition of physical sensation and her eyes were opened as she trembled to the ground. When she opened them she was in a dimension surrounded by planets, blackholes and stars. Galaxies and nebulas, life was exploding and imploding all around.

Gradually lifting her head she looked out into what could have been a horizon where snowlike dust blew through dunes of sand. It was like waking from a beautiful dream. When she began to lift herself to her feet she realized she was standing on a sea of saphire like stone, and Sophia knew exactly where she was.

She had never really been at the ball at all, she had been here all along. That is why she had not felt. A shadow of her had been living in the castle back home. It was all real, the spectacular ball, the curious man, but she hadn’t been there in the flesh. Some secret truth about the mysterious man had reverbirated through her being waking her from her sleep. Sophia was on the moon.

How does Communist China’s Swift and efficient response to the earthquake in Tibet starkly contrast with the glaring incompetence of Capitalist America in containing the destructive wildfires in California?

This isn’t Communist vs Capitalist

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This is Chinese vs American

The Chinese in the past few years have invested massively in disaster relief

The Police and Military have separate divisions specializing in Rescue and Disaster Relief missions

4,000 Men & Women who get paid a salary for training every day and actually working maybe 40 days a year in actual disaster relief

They have 26 Wing Loong Drones and over 7,000 Quadcopter Drones

They have a 24 Billion Yuan budget ($ 3.43 Billion) a year that is equivalent to around $ 8.5–10 Billion a year in the US

Additionally the Chinese have 6.6 Million Volunteers divided across all provinces who attend 40 hours disaster training every year over a five day period and pocket 1,250 Yuan ($ 171) and two meals a day

The minute there is a disaster, these Volunteers assemble within 8 hours to their reporting zone and get their clothes and duties

They maintain a fleet of 10,000 excavators, backhoes, moving machines and portable cranes

They have on field housing equipment

They have on field power generators

They have access to enough food to feed 7.5 Million Chinese on a National Scale for 75 days easily without any shortages

They even have teams to go to other countries and help

Like Syria and Turkey and Nepal for example

US has no such special disaster relief teams

They rely on disaster relief mainly on existing departments like Fire, Forest, Sheriffs Office and Police

There is first a question of WHO IS IN CHARGE

Is it Fire?

Is it Forest

Firemen are experts, Forest guys know the terrain

Sheriffs Deputies know the law

Police come in whenever there are deaths to send to the coroner

Budgets are intertwined

Equipment is intertwined

Volunteers are not based on merit but on first come first serve and many are untrained and end up with Carbon Monoxide inhalation themselves

So the US is glaring inefficiency and bureaucracy red tape business when it comes to disaster relief

China is smooth, efficient disaster rescue without any red tape anywhere

Ironic actually

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Case of the Cucumber Conundrum

Ah, dear reader, do you ever wake up feeling like something is… off? That the world around you has shifted ever so slightly into the bizarre? Well, today’s tale begins with just such an unsettling moment. Picture it: a crisp morning on the farm, the smell of hay and dew in the air, and me, Sir Whiskerton, peacefully snoozing in my favorite bed. All was right with the world—until it wasn’t. What followed was a mystery so absurd, so utterly ridiculous, that it left me both baffled and, dare I say, humbled. Prepare yourself for the laugh-out-loud tale of The Case of the Cucumber Conundrum.

The Incident

I awoke to a gentle breeze drifting through the barn, the first rays of sunlight streaming through the rafters. It was a perfect morning—until I rolled over and came face to face with… it.

A cucumber.

Long, green, and completely out of place. It lay there, mere inches from my nose, its shiny skin glinting ominously in the sunlight.

“GAH!” I yowled, leaping three feet into the air. My fur puffed up like a bottlebrush, my tail swished wildly, and my heart pounded as if I’d just seen the ghost of a long-lost littermate.

The cucumber, of course, remained utterly unfazed. Its sinister stillness only made it more unnerving.

“What is the meaning of this?!” I shouted, glaring at the offending vegetable. “Who dares disturb my morning in such a vile and cowardly manner?”

The barn animals, startled by my outburst, began to gather around.

“What happened, Whiskerton?” Porkchop the pig asked, waddling over with a mouthful of hay. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Worse than a ghost!” I exclaimed, pointing a trembling paw at the cucumber. “This!”

Porkchop squinted at the cucumber, then shrugged. “It’s just a vegetable.”

“Just a vegetable?!” I said, aghast. “Porkchop, do you know nothing of feline psychology? Cucumbers are unnatural! They appear out of nowhere, lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike terror into the hearts of unsuspecting cats!”

“Strike terror?” Doris the hen clucked, flapping her wings. “Oh, how dreadful!”
“Dreadful! But why a cucumber?!” Harriet added.
“Why?! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched.

“It’s a prank,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “Someone on this farm thinks it’s funny to scare me senseless. But mark my words, I will find the culprit.”

The Investigation Begins

I began my investigation by interrogating the usual suspects. First on the list was Rufus the dog, who was lounging in his favorite patch of dirt.

“Rufus,” I said, pacing back and forth in front of him, “did you place a cucumber next to my bed this morning?”

“A cucumber?” Rufus said, raising an eyebrow. “Why would I do that? I prefer practical jokes that involve bones, not vegetables.”

“Hmm,” I said, studying his face for any sign of deception. “You’re off the hook… for now.”

Next, I turned my attention to the hens. Doris, Harriet, and Lillian were scratching at the ground near the chicken coop, clucking nervously as I approached.

“Ladies,” I said, fixing them with my most intimidating stare, “do any of you care to explain how a cucumber ended up next to my bed?”

“A cucumber?! Oh, how strange!” Doris squawked.
“Strange! But we didn’t do it!” Harriet clucked.
“Didn’t do it! Oh, I can’t bear the accusation!” Lillian screeched.

I sighed. “Fine. But I’ve got my eye on you.”

Finally, I made my way to Ferdinand the duck, who was basking in his newfound fame after becoming the farm’s resident “singing sensation.”

“Ferdinand,” I said, interrupting his impromptu concert, “did you have anything to do with the cucumber incident?”

“Quack, quack! Me?” Ferdinand said, flapping his wings indignantly. “Sir Whiskerton, I am an artist. I do not sully my reputation with childish pranks.”

“Hmm,” I said, stroking my whiskers. “That does sound like something you’d say.”

A Break in the Case

Despite my thorough questioning, I was no closer to finding the culprit. Frustrated, I returned to the barn to examine the cucumber for clues. As I sniffed it carefully, I detected a faint but familiar scent: hay. Fresh hay.

“Of course!” I exclaimed. “The cucumber came from the hayloft!”

I raced up to the hayloft, my tail flicking in anticipation. There, nestled among the hay bales, I found a small stash of vegetables: carrots, radishes, and, yes, more cucumbers.

“Interesting,” I murmured. “Someone has been stockpiling these. But who?”

Just then, I heard a rustling sound behind me. I turned to see… Bingo the dog, his nose covered in dirt.

“Bingo!” I said, narrowing my eyes. “What are you doing up here?”

“Oh, uh… nothing!” Bingo said, wagging his tail nervously. “Just… looking for a place to nap.”

“Nap? Or hide your stash of cucumbers?” I said, pointing to the pile of vegetables.

Bingo’s tail drooped. “Okay, fine! It was me. But it was just a joke, Whiskerton! I didn’t think you’d take it so seriously.”

“Seriously?!” I said, bristling. “Bingo, you scared the whiskers off me! Do you have any idea how unsettling it is to wake up next to a cucumber?”

“I’m sorry,” Bingo said, his ears drooping. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just thought it would be funny.”

The Resolution

In the end, I forgave Bingo—after all, it was a harmless prank, even if it did leave me temporarily traumatized. To make amends, Bingo promised to clean up the vegetable stash and never prank me with a cucumber again.

The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: not everyone shares the same sense of humor, and what seems funny to one might be frightening to another. So always think twice before playing a joke—and if you’re a cat, keep an eye out for cucumbers.

As for me? I’ve since taken precautions to ensure that no vegetable ever sneaks up on me again. And with that, the mystery of the cucumber conundrum is officially solved.

The End.

Gaeng Massaman Kai

This recipe is for Gaeng Massaman Kai. The ‘massaman’ indicates that the recipe is of a ‘musselman’ or islamic origin, and it probably owes something to early Portuguese influences, and is similar in concept to the ‘sour and hot’ Goan style vindaloo dishes. By Thai standards this is usually a fairly mild curry, so I find it is a good starting point.

Massaman Paste

10 to 20 dried red chiles
1 tablespoon ground coriander seed
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon (from fresh bark)
1 teaspoon ground cloves
1 teaspoon ground star anise
1 teaspoon ground cardamom
1 teaspoon ground white pepper
4 tablespoons chopped shallots (i.e. the small red skinned onions)
4 to 6 tablespoons chopped garlic
2 (2 inch) pieces lemon grass stalk, sliced into thin rounds
A cube about half an inch on a side of galangal root, roughly chopped
1 tablespoon kaffir lime skin (ordinary lime skin will do if you can’t get it)
1 tablespoon ‘kapi’ (preserved shrimp paste – note this smells awful until after you cook it, but it is quite essential to the flavor)

To this you add a little salt: preferably about 1 to 2 teaspoons of fish sauce.

The galangal is roasted before use. The ground spices should preferably be fresh, in which case you should briefly toast them in a wok without any oil to bring out the flavor before grinding them.

The ingredients are blended to a fine paste (traditionally in a heavy granite mortar and pestle, but you can use a food processor just as well, and with far less effort). Note if you can get fresh red chiles you can usefully use them instead of the dried ones.

Curry

About 1 pound of chicken (you can also use pork or beef), cut into the usual ‘bite size pieces’
3 cups coconut milk
2 tablespoons roasted peanuts (unsalted of course)
5 peeled, but whole, small onions
5 small potatoes*, peeled and partly boiled
3 bay leaves
5 roasted cardamom fruits (i.e. the whole pod)
A small piece of roasted cinnamon bark
3 tablespoons palm sugar (you can use a light brown sugar instead if you can’t get palm sugar)
3 tablespoons tamarind juice (this is the ‘sour’ ingredient – you can use white vinegar instead if you can’t get tamarind juice. The juice is made by soaking tamarind paste in a little water then squeezing it out, and running it through a seize to extract the juice from the pulp)
3 tablespoons lime juice
1 to 3 tablespoon curry paste (above)
About 1 to 3 teaspoons crushed garlic (optional)

Instructions

Allow the coconut milk to separate and you will have about 1 cup of thick ‘cream’ and two cups of thin ‘milk’. In a small saucepan bring the milk to a simmer and add the chicken or pork. If you are using beef you will need another two cups of milk. simmer the meat until it is beginning to become tender (beef takes longer, hence the additional milk).
Put the coconut cream in a wok and bring to a boil, add the massaman paste and ‘stir fry’ until the flavor is brought out and maximized. The coconut oil will separate out and can be skimmed off with a spoon or ladle. (this removes much of the vegetable cholesterol or whatever it is called, and makes the dish much less trouble for those watching their weight or heart).
Add the remaining cream and curry paste to the meat.
Add the peanuts. Taste and adjust the flavor until it is (just) sweet (by adding sugar), sour and salty (by adding tamarind juice, lime juice and fish sauce).
Add the remaining ingredients and cook until cooked.
You can either serve it on a bed of rice, or double the amount of potato and serve it alone.
Accompany it with a dressed green salad and a bowl of pickled cucumbers. The traditional Thai table also offers chiles in fish sauce (Phrik nam pla) chiles in vinegar (phrik nam som or phrik dong), powdered chile (phrik phom – not to be confused with the powdered chile mix sold as chili powder in the US – it only contains chiles), sugar, and often MSG. You can if you wish add about a teaspoon of MSG to the above recipe to bring out the flavors, but I personally don’t think it is necessary.

Notes

* The potatoes we use are a yellow fleshed sweet potato of the type sometimes called a yam in the US. Western style potatoes can be used, but absorb less of the sauce and flavor. The potatoes act as a ‘moderator’ to reduce the heat of the curry, and should not be left out.

And finally a word of warning to those who burn their tongues on the chiles: chile/curry cooked this way is oily – drinking water does not alleviate the burn; it spreads it around your mouth and throat. You should use a sweet effervescent beverage such as Coke, Pepsi or 7-Up to wash the burn away as quickly as possible. If you do not suffer the burn, I suggest you accompany the meal with a beer Singha is traditional, but any strong flavored lager type beer will do), or a robust red wine.

Who would win in a fight between a US and a Chinese submarine?

China.

Sure, the Chinese submarine will lose. But the fact that there is even a fight between a Chinese and US submarine in the first place means that China wins.

US submarines are not going anywhere near Chinese submarines for the purpose of getting into fights with them, if there is a fight, the US submarine already screwed the pooch. They either got near a Chinese submarine without knowing about it, or they got near it for some explicit purpose involving avoiding getting into a fight and then utterly failed.

Too bad for the poor saps in the Chinese submarine, but China can afford to lose those guys by the millions. They can even afford losing the submarine, which is more expensive but nowhere near costly enough to cover the damage to the US and allies of blundering into a fight with one.

Why is this?

Because the Chinese wrote the book (several, actually) on winning conflicts before fighting by setting things up so that any fight is already a loss for the adversary. It’s not that nobody else reads these books (some of them are quite famous world-wide), but they’re still the global leaders when it comes to actually applying those principles in ways that are really infuriating but absolutely require calm deliberation to handle properly.

The actual situation with the Chinese submarine fleet and the various disputes over the waters where they operate are complex and constantly shifting, but one thing has remained constant for a few decades now, it’s always carefully set up so that a US submarine getting in a fight with a Chinese submarine is a significant win for China.

The only winning move is not to play.

At least, not to play the international security through military force game…the US has other ways to win, primarily by using it’s fundamental economic superiority. Unfortunately, half the country thinks this is ‘unfair’ to them personally because it makes some other Americans richer.

Is Gen-X The Last Generation of “Real” Men?

Large hanging landscape oils in grandparents homes

You don’t really hear much about this. But, almost every grandparent that I have, and my friends had… all possessed a large painting.

The painting could be in the dining room, in the living room, or in the hallway, but they all possessed it.

Typically, the most common was “The Last Supper”, and it often graced either the kitchen or dining room. But there were others. Often some kind of scenery.

The Kadels (the German family that I lived with when I attended university) had a scene of a young boy meeting a young girl at a well, and country road.

My grandparents had both “The Last Supper”, and a nice landscape that hung in the living room, and another that hung in the hallway.

My first wife’s grand parents had “The Last Supper”, as did my maternal grandmother.

These were all large paintings. That tended to dominate the rooms that they were placed in.

So…

Guys. Why doesn’t anyone buy or hang oil paintings on walls anymore in the homes? Any ideas?

Today…

Why has China repeatedly clarified that there is indeed no negotiation between China and the United States, while the United States always hints that there is a negotiation? What does the United States want to achieve by doing this?

The US is in a more precarious position than China

As you can see 45% of Small Businesses have China as their largest importing partner and 41% of the Service & Logistics workforce in the US (Almost 800,000 workers) depend on Chinese imports

Not to mention the fact that Chinese rare earths and magnet embargoes are causing backlogs in US Defense Industries by as much as 15 months now that the stockpiles are getting depleted

Soon there will be $ 8 Trillion of Bonds that need renewal and China has $ 389 Billion of Bonds that will come due and China may likely refuse to renew the bonds and may demand to cash out

Add to this 10 Yr Yields are 4.52% now and this means a whopping annual Interest of almost $ 330 Billion a year instead of $ 159 Billion a year that US was paying, an extra $ 161 Billion a year

If China decides to renew it’s $ 389 Billion debt with US, then yields could reduce by almost 0.25% and if US decides to get a deal with China, potential inflation predicted to be 6.07% could reduce to 3.82% in a flash and Powell may be leaned on to cut rates

It all depends on China, China and China 😁

Meanwhile China has pretty much nothing to lose

Their CPC playbook forces them not to involve themselves in foreign policy of any other country, unless Chinese interests are threatened

However this is one place where Chairman Xi feels , short term pain for China could bring a far more stronger and resilient long term benefits and prosperity

China is likely to lose 8% of its Export workforce or around 900,000 workers and 1,100 Small Businesses which sell to US but at least 50% will find alternate markets or transship their goods

China has a lot less to lose than USA

Trump needs to SAVE FACE

He is the one who took a stand against China and now he is likely forced to take a stand

To save his face, the US claims and the Western Media claims China is talking to him

It’s absolutely false

China always RECORDS when they talk to any foreign leader and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs always gives a readout of the conversation

So it’s impossible that anyone like Wang Yi, his deputies or even Ambassadors talked to their US Counterparts

Maybe Unofficial sources may have begun the conversation (Intermediaries)

For instance South African President Rhamposa spoke to Trump and Xi recently so maybe they used him as an intermediary but I highly doubt it

My Chinese pal claims that the best way to quickly become a billionnaire in China is to get involved in China’s endless construction projects that use cheap, substandard materials. If true, can China’s construction projects stand the test of time?

I don’t know how to explain this kind of thing. It’s like all those “clever” drug dealers around the world know that China has a huge population.

As long as the “product” of this “business” can be sold to one ten-thousandth of the people in China, then drug dealers will “make a lot of money.”

However, the problem is: “Drug dealers” are not fools. They only want to “make money” and don’t want to be “shot to death”!

In fact, only “corrupt government officials”/”cult terrorists”/”fraudsters and slanderers” have the “qualification” to be granted “political asylum” by Americans.

As an ordinary engineer who is a “corrupt criminal”, he had better pray that during his lifetime, there will be no “accidents” in the project he is responsible for. Otherwise, the “dirty money” he exchanged with his “life” will eventually become the “dowry” given by his “widowed wife” to her “lover”.

This is an arrowhead from 2,200 years ago, used by soldiers of Qin Shi Huang’s army during the Qin Kingdom’s conquest of all China. Even today, when measured with modern calipers, these millions of arrowheads still demonstrate an astonishing level of consistency.

Each batch of weapons bore an inscription: “This batch of weapons was supervised by the official (official’s name) from the XX regional government, manufactured at the XX arsenal (arsenal director’s name) by the craftsman XX (craftsman’s name).” Of course, there was always a risk of someone attempting to take dangerous risks, but the consequences were severe. Unless they could take their “dirty money” to the United States and obtain American “political asylum,” it was extremely risky

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As we all know, I am keen on mocking Americans. Here, I will, as always, “mock” American-style corruption.
Have you seen those two “unlucky” astronauts?

Yes, they are the two who are trapped in space and cannot return.

I simply can’t believe that the quality inspectors of Boeing Company can’t tell the difference between “Indian aluminum alloy valves” and “Chinese titanium alloy valves”.

Even more incredibly, in this accident that almost killed two American “space elites”, why haven’t the people responsible been brought to trial?

I’m 30, broke, unemployed, and homeless. Can I join the Marines for food and shelter?

Much better off joining the Army. If you can pass the tests, they could set you off on a whole new career without taking you to hell and back. Basic was tough (I was just shy of 26 years old) but it wasn’t life threatening. I had been riding a desk for a few years before joining so it took a while to get in shape.

If you can handle being told what to do, you could really turn your life around in a matter of days. Just treat it like a game. Play by their rules and you win. Screw up and buck the established rules, and you will be royally screwed. I did it. You can do it. I played the game they wanted me to play and I actually enjoyed part of basic training.

I loved the hell out of Advanced Individual Training. They gave me a place to sleep, three square meals a day, and they made everybody keep quiet while I ate my snacks and studied a subject I had always wanted to study (Electronics).

I was 6′3″ tall and only 166 pounds when I enlisted. I was allowed to eat all I wanted and more. I gained 19 pounds during basic and AIT. All muscle because my waist size didn’t change until I had been in a few years, having ingested more than my share of German beer.

How do you think the Chinese government will react to so many Americans and other netizens around the world registering on RedNote/Xiaohongshu en masse?

The US need to reflect on itself and change its way soon ways before its nation totally collapse! Its lies are now exposed and day by day it gets worst for America! Its young population know the truth and it wants an America that is honest and sincere to its people and care for them. It dont want a nation that bullies the world yet lie about its attrocities.

The lie that was so well told it is now a knife that cuts both sides. It raise its people’s high expectation yet it could not hide the truth from coming out that loses all credibility of their government and politicians. In so doing their media will lose relevance day by day. That is precisely what is happening to the US government and media.

The Tik Tok refugee were in for a massive surprise to see that real standard of living in China is indeed higher and its people eat better, cloths better, live long, live healthier, tax less, live in bigger and better homes at a fraction of US cost and are prosperous and happy! A fra cry from Chinese have no freedom, hounded by their government cannot afford the basic necessities portrayed by CNN and Fox News!

I’ve Never Shared My Near Death Experience!

Canadian regime issued a warning to Canadians that there are many fake Canada-made fake Chinese currencies in Canada. Why is Canada a fake currency making country in the world? Remember, there is no cash flowing in China, all are paid through phones.

We don’t even use cash anymore in China. What kind of stupid trick are the US lapdogs playing now?

How The Chinese Beat Trump And OpenAI

The hype around Artificial Intelligence, the now failed U.S. attempt to monopolize it, and the recent counter from China are a lesson in how to innovate. They also show that the U.S. is losing the capability to do so.

In mid 2023, when the Artificial Intelligence hype gained headlines, I wrote:

‘Artificial Intelligence’ Is (Mostly) Glorified Pattern Recognition

Currently there is some hype about a family of large language models like ChatGPT. The program reads natural language input and processes it into some related natural language content output. That is not new. The first Artificial Linguistic Internet Computer Entity (Alice) was developed by Joseph Weizenbaum at MIT in the early 1960s. I had funny chats with ELIZA in the 1980s on a mainframe terminal. ChatGPT is a bit niftier and its iterative results, i.e. the ‘conversations’ it creates, may well astonish some people. But the hype around it is unwarranted.
…
Currently the factual correctness of the output of the best large language models is an estimated 80%. They process symbols and pattern but have no understanding of what those symbols or pattern represent. They can not solve mathematical and logical problems, not even very basic ones.There are niche applications, like translating written languages, where AI or pattern recognition has amazing results. But one still can not trust them to get every word right. The models can be assistants but one will always have to double check their results.

Overall the correctness of current AI models is still way too low to allow them to decide any real world situation. More data or more computing power will not change that. If one wants to overcome their limitations one will need to find some fundamentally new ideas.

But the hype continued. One big AI model, ChatGPT, was provided by a non-profit organization, OpenAI. But its CEO, Sam Altman, soon smelled the big amount of dollars he potentially could make. A year after defending the the non-profit structure of OpenAI Altman effectively raided the board and took the organization private:

ChatGPT-maker OpenAI is working on a plan to restructure its core business into a for-profit benefit corporation that will no longer be controlled by its non-profit board, people familiar with the matter told Reuters, in a move that will make the company more attractive to investors.
…
Chief executive Sam Altman will also receive equity for the first time in the for-profit company, which could be worth $150 billion after the restructuring as it also tries to remove the cap on returns for investors, sources added.

The ChatGTP large language model OpenAI provided was closed source. A black-box, running in the cloud, that one could pay to chat with or use for translating, content generation or analyzing certain problems.

The training and maintaining of ChatGTP took large amounts of computing power and money. It was somewhat expensive but there was no new technology in it. The algorithms it used were well known and the training data needed to ‘program’ it were freely available internet content.

For all the hype about AI is is not a secret or even new technology. The barriers to entry for any competition is low.

That is the reason why Yves at Naked Capitalism, pointing to Edward Zitron, asked: “How Does OpenAI Survive?” It doesn’t. Or has little chance to do so. Discussions in the U.S. never acknowledged those facts.

Politicians thought of AI as the next big thing that would further U.S. control of the world. They attempted to prevent any potential competition to the lead the U.S. thought it had in that field. Nvidea, the last leading U.S. chip maker, lost billion when it was prohibited from selling in latest AI-specialized models to China.

Two days ago Trump announced Stargate, a $500 billion AI infrastructure investment in the US:

Three top tech firms on Tuesday announced that they will create a new company, called Stargate, to grow artificial intelligence infrastructure in the United States.OpenAI CEO Sam Altman, SoftBank CEO Masayoshi Son and Oracle Chairman Larry Ellison appeared at the White House Tuesday afternoon alongside President Donald Trump to announce the company, which Trump called the “largest AI infrastructure project in history.”

The companies will invest $100 billion in the project to start, with plans to pour up to $500 billion into Stargate in the coming years. The project is expected to create 100,000 US jobs, Trump said.

Stargate will build “the physical and virtual infrastructure to power the next generation of AI,” including data centers around the country, Trump said. Ellison said the group’s first, 1 million-square foot data project is already under construction in Texas.

On the very same day, but with much less noise, a Chinese company published another AI model:

We introduce our first-generation reasoning models, DeepSeek-R1-Zero and DeepSeek-R1. DeepSeek-R1-Zero, a model trained via large-scale reinforcement learning (RL) without supervised fine-tuning (SFT) as a preliminary step, demonstrated remarkable performance on reasoning. With RL, DeepSeek-R1-Zero naturally emerged with numerous powerful and interesting reasoning behaviors.

The new DeepSeek models have better benchmarks than any other available model. They use a different combination of technics, less training data and much less computing power to achieve that. They are cheap to use and, in contrast to OpenAI, real open source.

Writes Forbes:

U.S. export controls on advanced semiconductors were intended to slow China’s AI progress, but they may have inadvertently spurred innovation. Unable to rely solely on the latest hardware, companies like Hangzhou-based DeepSeek have been forced to find creative solutions to do more with less.
…
This month, DeepSeek released its R1 model, using advanced techniques such as pure reinforcement learning to create a model that’s not only among the most formidable in the world, but is fully open source, making it available for anyone in the world to examine, modify, and build upon.
…
DeepSeek-R1’s performance is comparable to OpenAI’s top reasoning models across a range of tasks, including mathematics, coding, and complex reasoning. For example, on the AIME 2024 mathematics benchmark, DeepSeek-R1 scored 79.8% compared to OpenAI-o1’s 79.2%. On the MATH-500 benchmark, DeepSeek-R1 achieved 97.3% versus o1’s 96.4%. In coding tasks, DeepSeek-R1 reached the 96.3rd percentile on Codeforces, while o1 reached the 96.6th percentile – although it’s important to note that benchmark results can be imperfect and should not be overinterpreted.But what’s most remarkable is that DeepSeek was able to achieve this largely through innovation rather than relying on the latest computer chips.

Nature is likewise impressed:

A Chinese-built large language model called DeepSeek-R1 is thrilling scientists as an affordable and open rival to ‘reasoning’ models such as OpenAI’s o1.
…
“This is wild and totally unexpected,” Elvis Saravia, an AI researcher and co-founder of the UK-based AI consulting firm DAIR.AI, wrote on X.R1 stands out for another reason. DeepSeek, the start-up in Hangzhou that built the model, has released it as ‘open-weight’, meaning that researchers can study and build on the algorithm. Published under an MIT licence, the model can be freely reused but is not considered fully open source, because its training data has not been made available.

“The openness of DeepSeek is quite remarkable,” says Mario Krenn, leader of the Artificial Scientist Lab at the Max Planck Institute for the Science of Light in Erlangen, Germany. By comparison, o1 and other models built by OpenAI in San Francisco, California, including its latest effort o3 are “essentially black boxes”, he says.

Even long term Internet investors, who have seen it all, are impressed:

Marc Andreessen 🇺🇸 @pmarca – 9:19 UTC · Jan 24, 2025Deepseek R1 is one of the most amazing and impressive breakthroughs I’ve ever seen — and as open source, a profound gift to the world. 🤖🫡

Nature adds:

DeepSeek hasn’t released the full cost of training R1, but it is charging people using its interface around one-thirtieth of what o1 costs to run. The firm has also created mini ‘distilled’ versions of R1 to allow researchers with limited computing power to play with the model.

That does in fact work!

Brian Roemmele @BrianRoemmele – 14:34 UTC · Jan 23, 2025Folks, I think we have done it!
If overnight tests are confirmed we have OPEN SOURCE DeepSeek R1 running at 200 tokens per second on a NON-INTERNET connected Raspberry Pi.
A full frontier AI better than “OpenAI” owned fully by you in your pocket free to use!
I will make the Pi image available as soon as all tests are complete.
You just pop it into a Raspberry Pi and you have AI!
This is just the start of the power that takes place when you TRULY Open Source an AI Model.

The latest Rasberry Pi hardware starts at $50. The software is free.

This is a death call for OpenAI:

Arnaud Bertrand @RnaudBertrand – 14:23 UTC · Jan 21, 2025Most people probably don’t realize how bad news China’s Deepseek is for OpenAI.

They’ve come up with a model that matches and even exceeds OpenAI’s latest model o1 on various benchmarks, and they’re charging just 3% of the price.

It’s essentially as if someone had released a mobile on par with the iPhone but was selling it for $30 instead of $1000. It’s this dramatic.

What’s more, they’re releasing it open-source so you even have the option – which OpenAI doesn’t offer – of not using their API at all and running the model for “free” yourself. …

The backstory of DeepSeek is also amazing.

In 2007 three Chinese engineers set out to build a quant (financial speculation) fund using AI. They hired hungry people fresh from the universities. Their High-Flyer fund was somewhat successful but throughout the last years the Chinese government started to crack down on financial engineering, quant trading and speculation.

With time on their hand and unused computing power in their back room the engineers started to build the DeepSeek models. The costs were minimal. While OpenAI, Meta and Google spent billions to build their AI’s the training costs for the published DeepSeek models were mere $5 to 6 million.

Henry Shi @henrythe9ths – 23:20 PM · Jan 20, 20257. The lesson?

Sometimes having less means innovating more. DeepSeek proves you don’t need:
– Billions in funding
– Hundreds of PhDs
– A famous pedigree
Just brilliant young minds, the courage to think differently and the grit to never give up

Another lesson is that brilliant young minds should not be wasted to optimize financial speculation but to make stuff one can use.

DeepSeek demonstrates how it is impossible to use trade and technology barriers to keep technology away from competitors. They can, with decent resources, simply innovate around those.

Even billions of dollars, loud marketeers like Trump and self promoting grifters like Sam Altman can not successfully compete with a deep bench of well trained engineers.

As an author at Guancha remarks (machine translation):

In the Sino-US science and technology war, China’s unique advantage comes precisely from the US ban. It can be said that our strong will to survive was forced out by Washington, and maximizing our limited resources is the secret to breaking through. In history, this kind of story is not new, that is, the weak prevail over the strong, and the small fight against the big.The U.S. side will fall into a Vietnam-style dilemma-relying too much on its own absolute advantage, thus wasting a lot of resources and losing itself to internal consumption.

How long for the U.S. to (re-)learn that lesson?

Posted by b on January 24, 2025 at 15:46 UTC | Permalink

What kind of China-U.S. relationship would best serve the interests of both nations, and the world at large?

The world is in the midst of its worst economic slowdown in three decades. According to the World Bank, global growth stagnated at an estimated 2.7% last year and is expected to remain at the same level in 2025. That’s a full 0.4 percentage points below the average of the decade before the pandemic—hardly a sign of recovery.

However, this is not the end of the story. The global economy can turn around, but only if the fundamental drivers of growth are restored—and that starts with global trade.

As the world’s two largest economies, China and the United States bear a unique responsibility to lead these efforts. China has embraced a development-first strategy and is tackling global challenges with increased openness and collaboration.

But the U.S. seems to be doing the opposite. Instead of fostering collaboration, the U.S. has chosen to weaponize tariffs and escalate its decoupling from the rest of the world. One of the clearest examples of this can be found in AI development, where the U.S. has made it a point to take an isolationist stance that could have severe consequences.

Moving beyond sanctions: healthy China-U.S. competition fuels development

On January 13th, the U.S. dropped a new round of AI chip export restrictions, breaking the world into three tiers and labeling over 200 countries and regions as either partners and allies or rivals. The objective is to consolidate AI development within the so-called “safe” zones and deny advanced chips to those deemed adversaries, all while setting U.S. standards for the global AI race.

This round of sanctions has been heavily directed at China—now placed in the third tier, with a complete ban on importing American AI chips and “closed” AI models whose underlying architectures are not released to the public.

But the real question is: Is this move that’s aimed at shutting down China ultimately harming the U.S. itself?

U.S. semiconductor giants have already voiced their concerns, urging the government to halt the sanctions. Nvidia, for example, protested that the White House has effectively banned technology used in mainstream consumer products like gaming computers.

Even more concerning for American businesses is that China possesses vast application scenarios that the U.S. lacks, which are crucial for training and enhancing AI performance. By isolating itself, isn’t the U.S. pushing the world to choose China instead? As Oracle has stated, this move by the U.S. is effectively handing “most of the global AI and GPU market to our Chinese competitors.”

The fallout from these sanctions is already clear. American businesses are furious, and the foundation of U.S. technological supremacy is crumbling. Since the U.S. initiated its trade war with China in 2018, the landscape has shifted dramatically. By 2019, China had already surpassed the U.S. in the number of internationally granted patents, signaling the rise of its innovation ecosystem. China’s chip exports, valued at 78 billion US dollars in 2018, is expected to exceed 150 billion—achieving a remarkable doubling despite the roadblocks.

This growth tells us something critical: the sanctions are not working as intended. In fact, they may be pushing China to innovate faster and become more independent than ever before. Even U.S. Secretary of Commerce Gina Raimondo has acknowledged this reality, calling the effort to block China’s technological progress “a fool’s errand.”

The sense of crisis is a crucial driving force for progress, and this is a view shared by both Chinese and American businesses. What the U.S. needs to realize is that healthy, organized competition benefits everyone. By isolating itself and pushing the world to pick sides, the U.S. risks squandering its leadership in the high-tech industry. The global AI race shouldn’t be about forcing others to fall in line with American ideals—it should be about unlocking the full potential of global innovation. Only then will the world, and the U.S., truly reap the rewards.

Global AI development: the potential for China-U.S. cooperation

The development of high-tech industries between China and the U.S. should not be viewed as a zero-sum game. Instead, it offers a wealth of opportunities for collaboration that could benefit both nations and the world at large.

For example, China’s startup DeepSeek recently introduced its large language model, DeepSeek-V3. Despite the chip bans, the model has earned international acclaim for its exceptional technical performance and impressively low training cost—just one-twentieth of those associated with GPT-4o. Just days before this release, OpenAI’s CEO, Sam Altman, made an intriguing statement in an interview: the U.S. and China must avoid an AI arms race and seek cooperation wherever possible. While it may seem ironic coming from OpenAI—an organization that enforces strict IP bans on the Chinese mainland—Altman’s words signal a growing realization within the U.S. tech community that collaboration with China is not only necessary but beneficial.

This sentiment is echoed in the actions of U.S. companies. Apple’s CEO, Tim Cook, made headlines with his appearance at China International Supply Chain Expo last year, where he reaffirmed Apple’s long-term commitment to the Chinese market. Cook’s words are a clear signal that U.S. companies recognize the value of engaging in mutually beneficial partnerships with China—despite the political and trade tensions that continue to simmer.

Even in the face of those tensions, China and the U.S. have kept dialogue in AI governance under the United Nations framework. In March, the U.S. proposed an AI technology resolution, co-signed by China. In July, China put forward a resolution on international AI cooperation, with the U.S. as a signatory. By December, China had initiated an AI capacity-building cooperation group, with 80 countries—including the U.S.—participating.

These collaborative steps point to a shared recognition that the future of AI hinges on international cooperation, not isolation. An AI arms race will ultimately benefit no one. History has proven this time and again. Genuine cooperation, when possible, is the way forward.

With Donald Trump’s return, the world is bracing for four more years of uncertainty, volatility, and, no doubt, unpredictability.

Yet amid this tumult, one thing remains steadfast—China’s belief that the core of the China-U.S. trade relationship lies in mutual benefit and win-win cooperation, not endless confrontation and conflict. In this era of hyperconnected economies, where technology drives everything from national security to economic power, an open and collaborative approach to technology is a necessity.

It’s time for the U.S. to put aside its isolationist impulses and recognize the stakes. Innovation cannot—and should not—be stifled by egos or outdated ideologies. The clock is ticking. Let’s hope the Trump administration understands this before it’s too late.

Hotel employees. What is the most insane thing a guest has asked you for?

She wasn’t exactly a hotel employee but my (English) niece was studying in Paris. She got a post which got her a free room at an amazing, historic Parisian building, a stone’s throw from the Eiffel Tower. She had to check in and check out guests who were booked in the apartments. It was an pretty expensive place to stay and had a lot of very valuable artworks on the walls. We’re talking 20.000–100.000 euros worth. Every picture was screwed to the wall with an alarm system fitted.

To the day in question. A very nice American couple booked in, mid 30s, seemed pretty normal, around 9pm.

My niece did her bit, took them up to their apartment, showed them where everything was and how it all worked. Old building, it needed a bit of instruction.

A short while later they called down to say they had a problem.

She went up and they said they couldn’t stay in the place due to the pornographic art and it needed to go. The picture in question was the Virgin Mary breastfeeding a naked baby Jesus. About 300 years old and worth a fortune. They were appalled such disgusting things were on show.

Niece pointed out that it was fixed to the wall and could they just put a towel over if for the night. They refused point blank.

She phoned the owners, who at 11.30pm got a workman in to disconnect the alarm, unscrew the painting and take it into safe keeping. The next day my niece advised them not to go to the Louvre.

Pineapple Upside-Down Cake

Yield: 12 servings

Ingredients

1/2 cup butter or margarine
1 cup packed brown sugar
1 (20 ounce) can pineapple slices, undrained
5 maraschino cherries, drained and halved
1/2 cup chopped nuts
1 (18.25 ounce) package yellow cake mix
3 eggs
1/3 cup vegetable oil
1 cup thawed, frozen whipped topping

Instructions

Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
Melt butter in Family (12-inch) Skillet over low heat. Remove from heat; stir in brown sugar until well blended.
Drain pineapple, reserving juice; set aside.
Arrange pineapple slices over brown sugar mixture in skillet. Place a cherry half in center of each pineapple slice. Sprinkle with nuts.
Add enough water to pineapple juice to measure 1 1/3 cups liquid. In Classic Batter Bowl, combine cake mix, pineapple juice, eggs and oil; whisk until well blended and smooth. Pour over fruit mixture in skillet.
Bake for 35 to 40 minutes or until Cake Tester inserted in center comes out clean.
Remove from oven; cool for 5 minutes.
Carefully loosen edges of cake. Invert onto large serving plate. Cool slightly; garnish with whipped topping.

Nutrition

Per serving: Calories 453, Total Fat 24g

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Have you ever known someone who was insulted for being poor even though he was rich?

Yes, my friend. The illustration is like the photo above.

So, my friend is a successful palm oil farmer, his land is vast, he already has his own palm oil transport car. When he goes anywhere, he always wears flip-flops, a t-shirt. Even when watching movies, he only wears shorts.

When he was in high school, he only had a few close friends, and that included me, the person wasn’t academically smart so he didn’t get enough attention from friends and teachers. We became close because of one fate, being looked down on by other people.

He likes to travel out of town, but never posts on social media, so people don’t know his financial condition.

His photos on social media, mostly he is in the palm oil plantation wearing flip-flops, boxer shorts and a tank top, people think he is a driver because he can drive a big car.

At the reunion because we haven’t met for 13 years, only successful people were invited.

My friend and I who are oil palm farmers, and several other people were not invited, please tell us the story, while laughing.

When my friend was on vacation in Singapore, my friend asked what I wanted to bring? I answered, just send your photo, my friend asked why? I said I wanted to send it to their reunion group.

My friend didn’t want to, but I persuaded him, finally he agreed, and got the photo. It didn’t take long, I immediately sent it to my friend who was invited there. My friend put me in the group.

It didn’t take long, several friends immediately asked for my friend’s number to invite him directly.

After being invited, my friend didn’t immediately leave the group, but he just said.

“I only have two friends, the others are trash, I’m leaving the group now!

My friend screenshotted the conversation, and we just laughed.

It’s crazy, just to see the uniforms at the reunion, the vegetable seller wasn’t invited..

So, this is a lesson, so that you don’t look down on other people because of their jobs.

No One Here Gets Out Alive

Submitted into Contest #281 in response to: Write a story from the POV of a non-human character.… view prompt

James Barrett

On planet Xenon, where I’m from, everybody lives forever. Unless somebody kills them. I never killed anyone that didn’t need it.Here on Earth, everybody knows me as Zach. Zach Wheaton. Unbeknownst to the indigenous population, I was sent to Earth from the planet Xenon. I was convicted of several serial killings on Xenon and sentenced to death. The death penalty was abolished on Xenon a few thousand years after Earth was discovered. Here was a planet where all living things, including Xenonians, eventually died naturally. What better place for Xenonians to send their soiled laundry? Let Earth do the dirty work while the good folks of Xenon kept their hands blood-free and squeaky clean.I was deported here a few years ago at age thirty (in Earth years) and almost immediately found employment as a video game developer. Earth was still in the dark age regarding computer science, so I found the work rather trivial. Everybody thought I was a genius, including me. I was written up in PC Gamer magazine so many times that they eventually gave me my regular column called Algorithm Alley with Zach. Subscriptions when through the ceiling. Developers couldn’t wait to get their hands on my column every month to see the latest insurmountable problem I would solve with a few lines of brilliant code. I was worshipped, and I loved it.Of course, the urge to kill was always lurking in the shadows. I loved the life I had built and suppressed the urge as long as I could. I learned about another Xenonian who was deported to Earth under circumstances similar to mine. I tried to connect with him but found out he had not been able to control his urges. The Earthlings had put him to death years earlier. His name was Ted Bundy.After my unfortunate discovery that Mr. Bundy was no longer with us, I did research on similar supposedly deranged Xenonians. John Wayne Gacy, Jeffrey Dahmer, Dennis Rader, Gary Ridgeway, and David Berkowitz all had one thing in common – they were all originally from Xenon. How did I know? I still had many contacts among the Police intelligentsia on Xenon. They kept me informed.Over the years, I have gotten married (Julie) and fathered a son (Jules). Julie and I met at a gamer’s convention in Las Vegas and immediately hit it off. She was covered in ink and piercings and was quite proud to attend gamer’s functions with the author of Algorithm Alley. Strangely, I never had any evil intentions toward Julie. I’ve found this is not uncommon for killers of my ilk.My conscience began to bother me. I know what you’re thinking. Psychopaths don’t have a conscience. Well, I’m the exception that proves the rule. It just seemed wrong to me that killers were being sent to Earth with no warning to the indigenous population. Most of the lethal transplants were more than willing to take the opportunity to ply their trade as many times as possible before they died, either naturally or otherwise. For me, this hardly seemed sporting.So, I applied to the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, commonly called the BAU. Julie was flabbergasted. How could the author of Algorithm Alley apply for a job at the FBI, which was, in the circles that had made my career, largely considered the Evil Empire? I told Julie I had inside information on serial killers and that information had to be shared with the FBI. Julie wasn’t buying it. She took Jules and moved back in with her parents.I told the FBI interviewers I had inside information on the identity of a serial killer active right now. He was leaving a trail of bodies across South Dakota as we spoke.At first, they didn’t believe me, but then they checked. Sure enough, there were three unidentified corpses discovered in the snow of South Dakota during the past eight days. There wasn’t enough evidence to prove the homicides were related, so the crimes hadn’t been kicked up to the BAU yet. I assured them they were related and the killer’s name was Michael Gaumond. As I expected, they couldn’t find any record of a Michael Gaumond anywhere in South Dakota (he had only arrived on Earth eight days ago and was still living off the grid), and they wound up arresting me on a charge of wasting police resources.I explained that I was from another planet and had inside information about Michael Gaumond and his whereabouts. They thought I was bat-shit crazy. One of the reasons was that if the star Xenon orbited was where I said it was, it would take seven hundred years to get there. I tried to explain that their scientists hadn’t yet discovered the principles of warp drive. At maximum warp, Xenonian ships could make the trip in two days.Eventually, I found myself a patient at Atascadero State Hospital for the criminally insane. It took two years for Gaumond to murder three more people and for the crimes to be connected to the original three homicides.Under interrogation, Gaumond admitted he was from Xenon, and, yes, he had heard of me – Zach Wheaton – and, yes, I had been deported to Earth a few years earlier.Gaumond was eventually found guilty and given a lethal injection (ever wonder if they sterilized the needles before carrying out that sentence?) But, based on his testimony before he died, the FBI, especially the BAU, began to look at me differently. Besides being possibly a bonafide alien, I had become an “asset.”I was given my own office on the top floor of the J. Edgar Hoover FBI building in Washington, D.C. I did not have any “assignments” per se. My job was to keep my contacts on Xenon law enforcement open and sound the alert when one of my evil brethren was on his way to Earth.I had lots of free time and used it to repair my relationship with Julie and my son, Jules.The urge to kill was always lying just beneath the surface, struggling to come out. Julie and Jules helped me keep my head on straight. I wondered if a disproportionate number of Xenonians had the urge back home.Was it nature’s way of keeping the population down?

How does the size of China’s High-Speed Rail Network compare to other countries’ networks, such as the UK, USA, and Japan?

China boasts the world’s largest and most extensive high-speed rail network, dwarfing the combined size of other countries’ systems – extending over 40,000 km making it roughly two-thirds of the global high-speed rail network in commercial service.

China accomplished this just as it did with EV – they started without any HSR technology, solicited joint venture partners from the 4 global leaders in high-speed rail for IP transfer for the initial installations and then proceeded to build the rest in record time while developing ifs own technology.

How does China’s compare the UK, USA, and Japan?

Here’s the answer to the first two: We don’t have any in the U.S. and the UK? They’re really a laughing stock and its a miracle that they’re still trying.

As for Japan, their’s had been the standard for high speed rail since two decades ago but they just can’t translate any of this to the international market. Take all the failed attempt in India, Indonesia, Thailand and Vietnam. China took over to complete Indonesia’s and doing the same in Thailand and Vietnam.

And China is building on its track record to win more international contracts.

Why is Portugal losing people?

18 year old Portuguese answering here. I’ll be straight and hide nothing in my answer. I turned 18 two weeks ago. I’ve always lived in Portugal and it was a really good country to grow up in. I will always feel grateful for having been raised with no security problems, having had access to school, medical care, food, good history & culture (part of it) and very good weather the majority of the year.

But the truth is (and I started confronting myself with that reality 4 years ago when I first went abroad) that nowadays Portugal is really in the ‘back’ compared to other countries. There’s so many things that need to be updated, so many conflicts to be solved, and the government’s priorities (not only the current one, but all the governments I was alive to see at work) are not well defined.

In September, I will start my last year of high school. But I will also start my university applications to the United Kingdom and to Denmark. And once I go, I don’t intend, right now, to go back after I conclude my studies. I don’t feel that Portugal can give me a future. At least a future where I can be financially independent from my parents while I’m still working or where I’ll have a chance to get a good job once I finish my university degree.

It’s sad to see my own country losing the young people everyday to other countries, seeing the population getting older in the stats and the newborn stats also decaying more and more every year and seeing the government doing nothing or useless measures about it.

I’m really grateful for the childhood Portugal offered me but it can’t give me a future and I have to be the one fighting for it, somewhere else.

Maybe I’ll be back someday. When I’m older, have a good job, my life organised and some stability.

But for now, I will probably (and unfortunately)belong to the stats section of young people who went to get further education in another country and probably will end up staying there.

UPDATE as of Dec 2022: I almost forgot about this post. It’s my 3rd year living and studying in Nottingham (UK). I am working part-time alongside my degree and am currently completing a placement year at a law firm. I was also lucky enough to secure an academic scholarship and UK Student Finance (before Brexit was officialised on 31 December 2020) to cover my course’s tuition fees.

I will not romanticise it because it is not always easy. The culture shock is very real and I miss my country, my family and my friends a lot. Sometimes all I want is to just hug my parents, have 5 minutes of Portuguese sun, or just a bite of my grandma’s food. But I am learning every day and getting opportunities that I would not get back in Portugal. I know I have made the right decision for me and my future.

Unfortunately, everytime I go back and see how my friends are doing, I know they will also end up moving once they finish their studies, since employment prospects for young graduates in Portugal isn’t looking promising.

With the escalating arms race in the Asia-Pacific, how will China react and what will be the consequences?

China is the world’s factory. It can outproduce anyone. It’s also not expansionist so the enemy will have to bring the fight to China, giving China a home advantage. So unless China suffers a generational disadvantage in equipment, China will always win.

That’s why China is now focused on tech. Because it’s the only area where the enemy can have a chance. And China doesn’t want to give the other side a chance.

Trump Considering Invading Greenland & Panama!

Why is Hitler universally condemned to hell when King Leopold II who did roughly the same thing on a smaller scale is not even heard of by a lot of people, not to mention proportionally condemned for what he did?

First, I think that Leopold II is pretty roundly condemned by anyone who knows about what he did. It’s just the whole “knowing about” thing.

Why don’t people know? Several reasons, I think.

Bad timing, part 1. This was in an era before TV, before radio, and just at the very beginning of the motion pictures. The media environment just wasn’t there yet.
Bad timing, part 2. Ten years later, WW1 happened, and that basically changed everything, and cast Belgium as part of the “good guys”.
It’s just not taught. At least in US schools, this atrocity receives zero class time. (Generally, US schools teach very little about post 1776 foreign affairs unless the US played an active role, and even then, it’s limited)
It was just enough of a “slow burn” to avoid serious public inquiry, until very late.
Lack of clarity. The death toll is unclear, Leopold did much to destroy the details, etc.
Africa. The sad fact is that atrocities in Africa rarely get much attention in the west. Even contemporaneously, getting attention to the atrocities was difficult for activists. Several missionarios spend years desperately trying to get the situation some publicity.
Leopold had a fairly effective propaganda campaign.

Do you think “RedNote” is a good name choice for ByteDance’s push into the US, given the company’s Chinese origin?

“RedNote” does not appear to have plans to enter the US market, and its data is not stored in the US.

ByteDance boss Zhang Yiming is only 41 years old this year, only the Chinese market has already let him make a lot of money, get a lifetime of inexhaustible wealth, so there is no U.S. market is not important to him.

Zhang Yiming’s mother is a nurse and his father is an ordinary employee of the local science association. Zhang Yiming is a technology nerd, he is not good at talking, very low-key, no socialization, does not smoke, does not drink, does not love to play IT games, does not love to watch movies, does not love luxury cars, does not love to play golf, he only has three hobbies: writing program code, reading books, and repairing computers.

He spends most of his time at home and seldom goes to the office, he left all the company’s business to Shou Zi Chew, CEO of Tiktok, who is more adept at corporate management, and his college roommate, Liang Rubo, CEO of ByteDance, and retired completely, not even attending the company’s anniversary celebration.

But Zhang Yiming has the final decision-making power over ByteDance and Tiktok, so if the US government lets Tiktok stay in the US, he’ll let stay there; if the US government doesn’t let Tiktok stay in the US, he’ll take it out of the US market, and he won’t sell Tiktok’s Core code.

We advise the U.S. government to respect corporate intellectual property rights and not attempt to plunder them.

Holiday Time

Submitted into Contest #281 in response to: Write a story from the POV of a non-human character.… view prompt

Ellen Talboom

That time of year. The decorations start covering almost every part of open blank space on the ground floor of the office building. Humans climb up on ladders, attach green looking leaves along the walls. Odd, no one waters them, yet they stay the same color, bright and shiny. Then the leaves are taken down. Every year, same thing. Humans talk a different language from during the year. Interesting concept.”How ya doing Laura”, a guest said, walking past the information desk?”Doing well, you, Mr. Jenkins”?”Great. I love the holidays. These decorations are absolutely beautiful, don’t you think”?”Yes”. Laura’s eyes followed Mr. Jenkins as he walked to the elevator.Don’t I think? What does that mean? Do I think? Am I thinking now? How do I think if I have been programed for every possible human reply? Is that thinking? Laura sat motionless. I don’t breathe. I don’t need to breathe. I don’t have to. Is that thinking?”Good morning Mrs. Tarron”.”Good morning to you Laura. How are you doing today”?”Well. It is going to be another lovely day”, Laura responded.”Good to hear. Great to be alive. I love the holidays”, Mrs. Tarron replied, “everything so pretty”. Mrs. Tarron walked up the stairs to the second floor, where the shops were located.Pretty, the decorations are so pretty. What does that mean? The concept of pretty or not pretty.”Have a great rest of your day Laura”.”Thank you, you as well Mrs. Tarron.Great to be alive. But I am not alive. I am a highly functioning machine. Have a great day. How would I have a not great day? Am I thinking? No, just the correct programed responses.Laura looked up at the stairs. Decorations were being wrapped around the railing. These humans were laughing and saying the works with a constant changing of the sounds, flowing along. Singing. Laura listened to the sounds.”Don’t you love to hear the caroling”?”It does flow. Good morning, Keith. No school”?”Yup, got out early. I think the teachers just wanted to annoy us. Wake up early, shower, choose what to wear, scarf down food, rush to the bus, sitting in those hard seats with no seat belts hoping I didn’t forget anything important. Then at school, sit in for an assembly, get some homework packets, then back on the bus. And guess what? The busses never left. A total waste of time and money, on both sides”. Laura sat motionless, again.”Well, enough talk. I’m off to my parents’ shop. Hey, there is the tree lighting event tomorrow. You should join us. There is food and drink”. Laura looked at Keith. Keith looked at Laura. She smiled. “I don’t eat or drink”.”Whoops. Sorry. I forget. You look and act so real, so human”.”Thank you, Keith”.

“Welcome. Come to the tree lighting anyway, okay”?

“Yes”. Keith turned and ran up the stairs, two steps at a time.

Come over and see the tree lighting. Love to hear the caroling. Shower, dress, scarf down food, rush to the bus. I have no programing to respond to those comments. Something to write down and submit to John.

“Good afternoon, Laura”.

“Good afternoon, Tanner”.

“What a day. chillness in the air. Feels like snow. You can almost breathe it”.

“This is a great day”, Laura said.

“It certainty is. You have a great day”.

“Thank you, Tanner”. Laura watched him walk up the stairs. “Oh, you are invited to the holiday tree lighting bash tomorrow, around 6p”, Tanner yelled from the stairs, “Hope to see you there”.

“Ok”, Laura replied. Tanner continued up the stairs, singing. Laura listened to the song, jingle bells, jingle bells. Laura wrote this on the sheet of paper for John.

“Mr. and Mrs. George, welcome”, Laura said.

“Greetings to you Laura. Happy holidays”, Mrs. George said.

“Same to you”, replied Laura.

“Tell Laura to have a happy holiday”, Mr. George told his 5-year-old twin sons.

“Happy holidays”, the twins said together. Laura smiled.

“Are you going to the holiday party tomorrow? My mom is going to sing”, one twin said.

“Yes I am. After work”.

“Cool”. The twins bolted to the stairs.

“Gotta go. Last minute stuff to do”, Mrs. George said, laughing.

“Indeed, see you tomorrow then”.

“Ok”. Laura watched the twins jump up each stair while their parents walked, one foot on each stair. Laura added to the list.

6pm. Laura’s shift was finished for the day. A couple of late guests rushed in before she locked the doors.

Doors locked. Now only those with key cards were able to gain access to the building.

“Have a good evening, Laura”, Craig, the night security human said while walking over to the information desk. “How was the day”?

“A lot of movement”.

“I bet. Getting close to the big day now”.

“Yes. Are you going to the event tomorrow”?

“Which one”? Craig laughed. “There are enough parties to keep me in food and drink for a week”. He winked.

Laura put her notebook and pen into her shoulder bag, rose from the chair and pushed the chair under the desk.

“Ready. Have a safe evening Craig”.

“Thank you, Laura. Say hi to John for me”.

“I will”. Laura walked to the elevator, pressed the up button. She entered when the doors opened. She pressed #6. Doors closed. Laura let herself into the operations room. John was sitting at the control panels. Many TV monitors that light up the room. He turned.

“Craig says hi”.

“Tell him hi from me. How was your day, Laura”?

“I have a list of comments that have no meaning to me. It was a day, light then dark”. John smiled.

“Ok, phase 4 now. You are ready”.

Laura smiled.

Laura was at her desk 5 minutes early; she is every day.

“Good morning, Laura”.

“Good morning, Nate. How are you doing today”?

“Great. Getting closer to the big day, food-fun-drink, especially the drink”, Nate said, then laughed.

“No over doing it, ok”, Laura said.

“Oh no. Can’t do that anymore. Ok, you have a fun day”.

“I will, thank you”.

Humans with dogs coming in and out. Humans without dogs coming in and out. Some walking up the stairs to the shops. Some using the elevators to the business offices.

More decorations were hung. A huge wreath is to be hung over the front door. A forklift was needed to put it on the hook, only to see that there was no hook. After the wreath was hung, the lights were turned on. They twinkled white. Silver and gold ribbons and bobbles hung on the wreath. It was a sight.

The tree, decorated with all the holiday colors. There was a large star placed on the top of the tree. It was a large tree, off to the side by the windows. It was 20 feet tall. Neatly wrapped packages were underneath. The tree lighting will be at 6p. Laura watched all the movement, the fussing around the tree. More decorations were added.

The caterers were setting up the food and drink tables. There were plates of different foods. So much food.

6p. Laura watched at the clock hands make a straight up and down line. Groups of Humans were walking down the stairs and right over to the food and drink festively decorated tables. Nate was the first to the wine bar.

Laura completed her closing chores, put her bag over her shoulder, rose up and pushed the chair under the desk. She walked over to the tree. John and Craig walked through the elevator doors and toward the tree, talking.

Everyone was silent. The twins had the honor of lighting the holiday tree. The crowd let out a whoosh of excitement, ooooo’s and ahhhhh’s.

Laura stepped up in front of the tree, placed her purse on the floor next to her. She turned to face the group. John watched with the others. Silence. Laura smiled.

“Happy holidays all”, and she began to sing, “Oh Christmas tree, Oh Christmas tree, your branches green delight us”…

Shorpy

Virginia Giuffre ‘Quiteted’

Jeffrey Epstein was an Israeli agent tasked with blackmailing U.S. politicians and business people by providing them with under-age girls. Virginia Giuffre, then 17, was on of those victims.

Epstein was jailed and, on August 10 2019, found dead in his cell. I headlined:

Epstein Suicided

Unsurprisingly Jeffrey Epstein was found dead, presumably by suicide, as that is what ‘officials’ claim:

Jailed multimillionaire financier and accused sex trafficker Jeffrey Epstein has died by suicide, according to two law enforcement sources. …

Just yesterday a court released the first 2,000 pages of a civil case against Epstein’s madame, Ghislaine Maxwell:

[Epstein victim Virginia Roberts Giuffre], who turned 36 on Friday, names a number of other men in politics, academia and business that she says she was directed to have sex with. In a 2017 interview with the Miami Herald, Giuffre said that Epstein wanted her to please various influential people then so that he could learn about their sexual peccadilloes and use them as leverage if he needed to.While there’s no direct evidence contained in the court record substantiating her accounts with prominent men, Giuffre did provide testimony and evidence to corroborate her claims of exploitation at the hands of Epstein and Maxwell through photographs, plane logs and even a medical record from Presbyterian Hospital in New York where Giuffre was taken by Epstein after a particularly abusive sex episode.

I concluded the post with this:

Some of those influential people who Epstein, or the organization behind him, blackmailed, will be quite happy that he is gone. They will now try to bury the rest of the case. Giuffre and other witnesses better watch their backs.

Today we learn that Virginia Giuffre is dead (archived):

Ms. Giuffre (pronounced JIFF-ree) died by suicide, according to a statement by the family. She wrote in an Instagram post in March that she was days away from dying of renal failure after being injured in an automobile crash with a school bus that she said was traveling at nearly 70 miles per hour.

This is curious.

Potential renal failure in March is supposed to be the cause for a suicide in late April? Why is the NY Times insinuating this?

We have dialysis to counter renal failure and hundreds of thousands survive with it. Then there are kidney transplants. Giuffre was 40 years old. One does not die of kidney failure at that age. It is not a reason to suicide oneself.

Consider this:

Virginia Giuffre @VRSVirginia – 3:32 UTC · Dec 11, 2019I am making it publicy known that in no way, shape or form am I sucidal. I have made this known to my therapist and GP- If something happens to me- in the sake of my family do not let this go away and help me to protect them. Too many evil people want to see me quiteted

Posted by b on April 26, 2025 at 15:42 UTC | Permalink

Comments

next page »

Laura from Normal Island News provides the appropriate sarcasm:
Virginia Giuffre, the woman who was trafficked by Jeffrey Epstein when she was a child and raped by rich and powerful men who have never been brought to justice, has died.

Giuffre predicted her own death weeks ago when the intelligence agent running her Instagram announced she was in a car crash and had days to live, thanks to kidney failure. When the internet said they’d heard this story before, another cause of death was chosen: suicide.

Prince Andrew is delighted that a woman he has never met has generously left him £12 million in his will. In a bizarre coincidence, Giuffre was one of 250 victims of Andrew’s best friend, Jeffrey Epstein.

If you’ve forgotten, Epstein was the sex trafficker who switched off the cameras in his prison before taking his own life and getting his body whisked away by unknown individuals in a manner which defied protocol and was non-suspicious.

Epstein’s relationship to Mossad had nothing to do with his “suicide”. The people named in Epstein’s little black book definitely weren’t massively relieved. Just know that if you link Epstein and Giuffre with Prince Andrew, you will be sent to the Tower of London.

Predictably, the internet is already rife with conspiracy theories. One popular theory is that Giuffre did not commit suicide and was, in fact, whisked away to a tropical island to live out her days with Princess Diana.

The conspiracy theorists are pointing to a social media post where Giuffre insisted she was not suicidal, and that if she was ever found dead, it was not suicide. Honestly, these conspiracy theorists will put two and two together and make 12.

A spokesperson for the royal family said: “Prince Andrew is saddened by Giuffre’s death, but confident her suicide means no more witnesses will dare come forward”. I trust you find this satisfactory and agree there is definitely nothing to see here. You can get on with your day now x

Posted by: Peter b | Apr 26 2025 15:55 utc | 1

Posted by b on April 26, 2025 at 15:42 UTC | Permalink

Not a month ago she was rammed by a school-bus doing over 110 km/h

Bad things happen to those that dare disturb TPTB

Posted by: Newbie | Apr 26 2025 16:01 utc | 2

Thank you B for highlighting this most significant story.

Posted by: Exile | Apr 26 2025 16:03 utc | 3

most unfortunate… thanks for sharing your views directly or indirectly..

since when did the powerful and wealthy ever call the shots?? lol.. hopefully we continue to challenge this on a regular basis.. those with a vested interest in hiding things are really the unsavory characters they are.. the truth will eventually come out..

Posted by: james | Apr 26 2025 16:04 utc | 4

The corruption/lawlessness is right out in the open for all to see, yet the public is asleep/doesn’t care.

Posted by: silverfoxes | Apr 26 2025 16:07 utc | 5

Why doesn’t the Irish defence force buy advanced weapons like fighters, tanks, helicopters and etc ? Ireland Republic is an independent country.

There are 5 million Irishman.

If they recruited one percent of the population to be under arms, which is quite a lot, they would have 50 000 troops.

Ireland has basically no natural defensive features and they do not have the money to build a navy that could defend them.

That is why Ireland is neutral:

They cannot hope to defend themselves, if it comes to it, all that they can do is let themselves be occupied and return to an Irish staple: Guerrilla warfare and resistance.

Since that is the case, there is not much of a point to splurging on jets or tanks. They cannot buy and man enough to offer deterence, just enough to waste money.

That is why the Fórsaí Cosanta is what it is: Basically an armed constabulary that participates in UN missions.

Even if Ireland felt severely threatened investing in fighters, helicopters and tanks would not be the way to go.

Instead build a magazine with rifles, semtex and mines at the end of every block and when they enemy attacks, disperse the arms among the population and burn the lists.

Censorship

Rob Urie put up an important piece in Naked Capitalism: On Being Censored For The Last Four Years

This should be read by anyone who still thinks Biden is anything but the warmongering, corrupt, power-mad senile old man that he is, and his presidential administration was.

Some key excepts:

In December, 2024, a Federal entity called the Global Engagement Center (GEC)— an offshoot of the US State Department tasked with censoring legal political speech on the internet, was closed after Congress stopped funding it. Within a day or two of this occurring, the internet as I haven’t seen it in four years suddenly reappeared. Hundreds of my articles that couldn’t be found under any arrangement of search terms over the prior four years have since reappeared….

Within hours of Joe Biden’s inauguration in 2021, 99% of the 200+ essays that I had written over the prior decade disappeared from the internet, along with 99% of the digital evidence that I ever existed. Little of what I had written, and none of what I was then writing, could be found via searches no matter how precise and / or detailed the search terms. For what I imagine were political reasons, after a decade of writing near-weekly essays, I had been disappeared.

The alleged rationale for this censorship was ‘to combat disinformation.’ Having followed Joe Biden’s political career since the early 1980s, the man was never known for having a firm grasp on the reality that most of the rest of us share. Much of what Biden said regarding the Covid-19 pandemic was not only untrue, but deeply harmful. Telling people that the mRNA vaccines prevented both illness and transmission— both untrue, put millions of lives at risk.

…

Having done quite a bit of mathematical programming over the years, I sensed quickly that I was being censored as the GEC was firing up. What surprised me, but shouldn’t have, is that the American and world history that I had linked to as source material was also being systematically disappeared from the internet. At one point in 2021 – 2022, the only way that I could re-find relevant history was to already have the links. Using the same search terms as used before never yielded the same, or even useful, results no matter how many times I tried.

…

The Times reporter/disinformation censor worldview that only what they believe is true is widely prevalent amongst the American PMC. The logic of this view was put to me by a friend. My friend gets his news from CNN, NPR, and the New York Times. In discussing events in Ukraine, his standard response was ‘I never heard of that.’ The obvious reply: if I got my information from those sources alone, I wouldn’t know much that is true about the world either.

This ‘incredible sunshine of the spotless mind’ view, whereby the less that someone knows, the more power they are given to determine public policy, is the corporate model applied to government. CEOs fancy themselves as managers and deal makers, not content experts. Marketing ‘truth’ is a constrained optimization problem around what will best sell a product. American political discourse follows this corporate model as low-quality rhetoric.

…

As one who was called a communist for opposing the US war in Vietnam, a Saddam sympathizer (and a terrorist) for opposing two US wars in Iraq, a Putin puppet for opposing the current US war against Russia in Ukraine, and an antisemite for opposing the Israeli genocide in Gaza, the trail of official lies points to the US government being the most prolific purveyor of lies related to US foreign policy. This would seem fertile territory for actual inquiry into ‘disinformation.’

While ‘enshittification’ is a good general descriptor for what doesn’t work in the modern world, intention to enshittify hasn’t tended to be the explanation for it. Prior to 2016 or thereabouts, the internet yielded results that, taken together, provided reasonable approximations of the facts. Particularly after 2021, the internet search results that I got seemed increasingly intended to mislead.

…

As best I can tell, I had made it through the Trump years without being censored. The censorship that I encountered was conducted by the Biden administration.

…

I have no idea if the changes that I am seeing are visible to others. The tech ‘model’ of customization has produced a dystopian hellscape whereby critical comparison is impossible because there is no common basis by which to compare. This is reification of the individualist ontology of Western commerce. Good luck fixing the effect without first addressing the cause.

Posted by: c1ue | Jan 23 2025 16:55 utc | 40

After HEAD-ON Collision, She Crossed OVER & Begged God To Stay

What’s something a flight attendant did to you that you will never forget?

Not a flight attendant but a gate agent. My daughter and I were on a long awaited trip to Germany and Poland. We were in Krakow when I got the news that my beloved husband of 30 years had died unexpectedly. We rebooked immediately but couldn’t leave until the next day. In Frankfurt I told a cranky man at the gate what happened and that I wanted to pay to upgrade to premium economy so we would have more privacy. He told me to wait. Then a woman appeared and scolded him in German. She looked at me and said there is no charge. I thanked her and we sat down to wait. In a few minutes the same woman came over and asked to see our tickets for a moment. I thought nothing of it. She came back a little while later and said “tonight you fly business”. We burst into tears and she grabbed my shoulders and said “ I don’t have all the words in English but bless you”. Because of her I was able to sleep a bit and have the privacy I needed to grieve. I am still recovering emotionally but I have never forgotten you…my angel of Lufthansa ❤️

Why is it that although China is already the second largest economy in the world, most Chinese people have no food to eat and can only survive by eating rats and chewing tree bark?

Typically you get an Unlimited Chinese Buffet consisting of

Unlimited Rice
Roast Beef with Ginger
Eggplant and Mushrooms Stir Fry
Tofu
Sweet and Sour Pork
Braised Duck Breast

Total Price is 24.90 Yuan ($ 3.40)

You can dine in a Decent Restaurant with your family , order 5 -6 Dishes and pay 176 Yuan ($ 24)

You can dine out and eat in a French patisserie where a Danish and Donut and a Cup of Coffee costs you 76 Yuan ($ 10.40)

You can have a 2 Chicken Quesadilla, 1 Chicken Burrito, 1 Lemon Sprite Tea, 1 Coke and 1 Corona Beer for 93 Yuan ($ 10.21)

Food for the whole family

Neapolitan Pizza?

Cheese Garlic Bread?

Carpacchio?

Ice Lemon Tea?

For 2 Adults and a Kid it costs 106 Yuan ($ 14.46)

Quality Seafood Buffet?

89 Yuan per Adult and 59 Yuan per Child ($ 12.14 & $ 8.05)

Add another 50 Yuan and 25 Yuan if you want to include the Lobster!!

Does this look like a Country that is starving? This is a country that has food for every category of people

A Huge Bowl of Beef Noodles at a Sichuan Noodle Shop for 16 Yuan all the way to a 349 Yuan per person Buffet at an expensive five star restaurant

Praline Cheesecake

Yield: 16 servings or 20 sample servings

Ingredients

16 (2 1/2 inch) Graham cracker squares (about 1 1/4 cups crushed)
1/4 cup butter or margarine, melted
1/4 cup packed brown sugar
16 ounce cream cheese, softened
1 (12 ounce) jar caramel ice cream topping, divided
1 (8 ounce) container frozen whipped topping, thawed, divided
1 (8 ounce) container sour cream
1/2 cup pecan halves, divided
2 (3.4 ounce) boxes cheesecake flavored instant pudding and pie filling

Instructions

For crust, place Graham crackers in resealable plastic bag; crush into fine crumbs using Dough and Pizza Roller. Melt butter in Small Micro-Cooker on HIGH 30 seconds; mix in cracker crumbs and brown sugar using Classic Scraper. Press crumb mixture firmly onto bottom of Springform Pan; place in freezer until ready to use.
In Classic Batter Bowl, microwave cream cheese on HIGH 60 seconds; whisk until smooth using Stainless Steel Whisk. Measure 1/3 cup caramel sauce in Measure-All Cup; set aside for garnish.
Fill Easy Accent Decorator with 1 cup of the whipped topping; set aside for garnish.
Add remaining whipped topping, remaining caramel sauce and sour cream to cream cheese; whisk until smooth.
Reserve 16 pecan halves for garnish. Chop remaining pecans using Food Chopper; add to cream cheese mixture. Add pudding mix and whisk vigorously until mixture is blended and very thick. Immediately spoon filling onto crust; spread evenly using Large Spreader.
Pipe 16 rosettes, each touching the next, to form a continuous border 1/2 inch from edge of cake. Pour reserved caramel sauce into center over top of cake; spread carefully using Skinny Scraper. Garnish each rosette with pecan half. Using Paring Knife, loosen cake from edge of pan; carefully remove collar.
Serve using Slice ‘N Serve.

Notes

For a colder serving temperature and easier slicing, chill 30 minutes before removing collar.

Nutrition

Per serving: Calories 370, Total Fat 22g, Saturated Fat 13g, Cholesterol 45mg, Carbohydrate 40g, Sodium 390mg, Fiber 0g

Attribution

Pampered Chef

What do you think of Trump requesting Greenland from Denmark?

Remember this?

That was the husband of a prominent American neocon, Mrs. Anne Applebaum, and a member of an infamous neocon think-thank, the American Enterprise institute, thanking Americans for blowing up a critical piece of Germany’s and Europe’s energy infrastructure in – the Nord Stream 2 gas pipeline – mere months after the now outgoing American president announced – and right in front of German chancellor at the time – how he will have the said pipeline blown up should there be a war between Russia and Ukraine.

[1]

And how did Germany, its neighboring countries around the Baltic Sea, the entirety of EU and rest of the rules-based world order react to such a blatant act of state-sponsored terrorism – indeed, what could be considered an outright casus belli under international law – against them by the USA? Crickets chirping in the dead of the night! Awkward silence, playing dumb, cover-ups and secretive investigations leading nowhere. “It might be in no one’s interest to find out more!”

[2]

mafia-style statements in media, just in case anyone amongst the Western elites didn’t get the memo about omerta imposed upon this whole issue. And of course, Germany’s and Europe’s economies tanking down fast ever since, as the supplies of gas dwindle while the prices of energy and everything else soar.

And I find it darkly amusing how more-less the same people who twiddled their thumbs in silence as Nord Stream 2 went up with a bang right under their noses, are now publically shocked (shocked, I say!) how the incoming American president is announcing he’ll take Greenland away from Denmark, by hook or crook if need be. US threatening, bullying or outright attacking an obedient EU and NATO ally? Nooo, say it ain’t so!!! What’s a poor little Denmark to do now – other than, perhaps, raise its defense spending to 5% as US now demands, to buy more of its old F-16s and send them as military aid to Ukraine?

And speaking of Ukraine, another thing I find darkly amusing is that, again, the very same people who insist that USA has a God-given mission to fight for freedom and democracy on plains of Donbass, or islands of South China sea, or mountains of Afghanistan, or cities of Syria, Libya, Iraq and so forth, are now shocked (shocked, I say!) that USA is interested in management of a huge and strategically important island in its close neighborhood – because, apparently, that’s another white people’s colony, and it would be gauche to deprive them of their imperial legacy. Much as I dislike US imperialism in any of its myriad forms, the fact that Trump is now basically drawing a circle around North American continent and saying “These are our national strategic interests, back off!” seems to me as in improvement over these past 25+ years of Neocon/Neoliberal globalist policy, which insisted that the entire planet Earth is a US-exclusive sphere of influence, and Americans get to intervene in everyone’s else countries and business as they damn please.

This Neocon “Grand strategy” (now there’s a misnomer!) has been nothing but an abject failure, bringing about decades of war, ruin, loss and one crisis after another to both US and world at large; and has now (as was entirely predictable) smashed itself against the Russian wall in eastern Ukraine. So for the time being at least, it looks like US policymakers have decided to cut their losses, re-entrench themselves inside proverbial “Fortress America”, and focus more on issues in their immediate neighborhood, which truth be told really are in their geopolitical interests, much more than whatever happens in Ukraine, Middle East or Taiwan. That us Europeans will bear the full brunt of this “strategic realignment” was likewise entirely predictable outcome, and is wholly our own fault; the idea that we could ride the tiger of American imperialism without it eventually devouring us because we kept quiet and obedient to its every whim is just about as idiotic as it sounds.

I recall an old sketch from that superb 1980s British sitcom, “Yes Prime Minister”, which I think illustrates well the kind of reasoning that lead to this probable shift in American foreign policy; from the old-school Neocon ideologues, to the younger realpolitikers which Trump is presumably now bringing with him.

Prime Minister Hacker: “Humphrey, are you saying that Britain should not support law and justice?”

Cabinet Secretary Humphrey: “No, of course we should, Prime Minister. We just shouldn’t let it affect our foreign policy, that’s all.”

Prime Minister: “We should always fight for the weak against the strong!”

Cabinet Secretary: “Well, then why don’t we send troops to Afghanistan to fight the Russians?”

Prime Minister: “The Russians are too strong.

Have you ever been ignored by the staff in a store because you didn’t look wealthy enough?

Years ago I worked for a company selling high end log homes. There is an area in Victor, Montana that has quite a few manufacturers along the highway. We had an older woman drop in to look over our show home. She drove up in a very old beat up pickup truck and was wearing well worn dirty coveralls. One of my fellow sales people was happy to walk her around and show her our details. It was his turn up. He took her through a detailed run through as she seemed to be enjoying the attention and was asking a lot of detailed questions. She sounded like she did some research, but then again, a lot of dreamers did go into a lot of detail.

We were working for a family operation and were always taught that everyone was important. Our homes were very expensive but also the top of the line in quality. We all understood that not everyone purchased, but they might know someone that wanted to purchase in the future.

The woman said that she really liked the show home and that she was thrilled at my fellow salesman taking the time to help her with her questions. She further mentioned that she was killing time that morning going from manufacturer to manufacturer because she had always dreamed of living in a log home. But everybody else gave her a small pamphlet and pretty much showed her the door out. No one gave her any help except us.

She asked, “Just for fun, what would complete set up for a home like this go for?”.

My fellow worker said, “In the neighborhood of $2.1 to $2.4 million, depending on building location, some options and other details.”

The older woman pulled out a worn checkbook and asked if it would be ok to start with a two million dollar deposit.

You just never know who has money, and it should never matter with how you treat people.

What is the worst thing someone has said to you about yourself?

Last summer my little sister died. I don’t even think that heartbroken can sum up my feelings. I was completely devastated, not only for my sister, but for my nieces and nephews that don’t deserve to grow up without a mother (or a father, since he was killed in a drug deal gone wrong).

I was attending my little sister’s funeral, which no one should ever have to do. Afterwards we had a dinner at my twin sister’s place. A family friend, let’s call her Shirley, was present.

Another young family friend was present, let’s call him Paul.

Shirley came up to me and said “you have traveled the world and done a lot of things in life. But you’re not like Paul. He has traveled the world too. The difference is that he never forgot where he came from!”

I felt judged, humiliated, and frankly, like a piece of shit. I had no mental defenses ready for someone to speak to me like this on the day of my sister’s funeral. Honestly, it fucked me up. I wondered what I had done to receive such judgment. I have always answered the call when my family needed help. It made me think that not only did Shirley feel that way, but secretly, my family did too. Where else would she have gotten that idea from?

On a day when I already felt awful, it made me feel even worse.

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Mystery of the Cursed Wheelbarrow

Ah, dear reader, welcome to another charmingly absurd installment of my adventures. Today’s tale involves one of the strangest cases I’ve ever encountered. It wasn’t a missing apple, a misplaced bed, or even a quacking sensation—no, this time, it was a wheelbarrow. A seemingly ordinary, rickety old wheelbarrow. But let me assure you, there was nothing ordinary about it. It appeared in the most improbable places at the most improbable times, causing quite the ruckus on the farm. What followed was a mystery that tested my patience, my deductive skills, and, at one point, my ability to climb a roof. Prepare yourself for the hilarity-filled tale of The Mystery of the Cursed Wheelbarrow.

The First Sighting

It all began one misty morning as I was making my usual rounds. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a golden glow over the barnyard, and everything seemed peaceful. That was, until I heard the unmistakable sound of clucking in distress.

“Help! Oh, someone help!” Doris the hen squawked.
“Help! There’s something outside the coop!” Harriet clucked.
“Outside! Oh, it’s dreadful!” Lillian screeched.
“Dreadful! I can’t bear it!” Doris wailed.

I sighed and padded over to the chicken coop, where the hens were huddled together, their feathers ruffled.

“What is it this time, ladies?” I asked, my tail flicking impatiently.

“It’s… it’s… that!” Doris said, pointing a trembling wing toward the fence.

I turned to look and saw… a wheelbarrow. An old, rusty wheelbarrow, leaning casually against the fence as if it had been there for years.

“That?” I said, raising an eyebrow. “It’s just a wheelbarrow.”

“Just a wheelbarrow?! Oh, how naïve!” Doris squawked.
“Naïve! But what is it doing there?!” Harriet clucked.
“There! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian cried.

I sighed. “It’s probably just the farmer. He must have left it there.”

“But it wasn’t there last night!” Doris insisted. “And none of us saw him move it!”
“Move it! Oh, it’s cursed!” Harriet clucked.
“Cursed! Oh, I can’t bear the thought!” Lillian screeched.

“Cursed? Really?” I said, rolling my eyes. “Ladies, it’s a wheelbarrow, not a ghost. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have more important matters to attend to.”

Little did I know, the wheelbarrow was just getting started.

The Second Sighting

Later that day, I decided to visit Porkchop the pig, who was lounging happily near his favorite mud puddle.

“Morning, Whiskerton,” Porkchop said, munching on an apple. “What brings you out here?”

“Just checking in,” I said. “The hens are in a tizzy over some wheelbarrow they think is cursed.”

“Oh, that thing?” Porkchop said, chuckling. “Yeah, I saw it this morning by the coop. Weird, though—it’s in the barn now.”

“The barn?” I said, my ears perking up. “Are you sure?”

“Sure as mud,” Porkchop said, pointing toward the barn.

Curious, I made my way to the barn. Sure enough, there it was: the same rusty old wheelbarrow, now sitting in the middle of the barn as if it owned the place.

“Hmm,” I said, circling the wheelbarrow. “Strange. Very strange.”

The Plot Thickens

Word of the “cursed” wheelbarrow spread across the farm like wildfire. By the following morning, everyone was talking about it.

“Did you hear?!” Doris squawked. “The wheelbarrow showed up near the farmhouse last night!”
“Near the farmhouse! Oh, how terrifying!” Harriet clucked.
“Terrifying! I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched.

Even Rufus the dog was spooked. “I saw it too,” he said, his tail tucked between his legs. “One minute it wasn’t there, and the next minute—bam! Right by the kitchen door.”

“Interesting,” I said, stroking my whiskers. “It seems the wheelbarrow has a mind of its own.”

“Maybe it’s haunted,” Rufus said, shivering.

“Haunted? Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. “There’s a logical explanation for this. There has to be.”

The Rooftop Revelation

The mystery reached its peak (quite literally) the next morning when we woke up to find the wheelbarrow… on the roof of the barn.

“Yes, you heard me correctly, dear reader. The roof. Of the barn. A place no wheelbarrow has any business being.”

“How did it get up there?!” Doris squawked.
“Up there! Oh, it’s definitely cursed!” Harriet clucked.
“Cursed! I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched.

“Enough!” I said, my patience wearing thin. “This has gone too far. I am going to solve this mystery once and for all.”

With the help of Rufus, Porkchop, and a very long ladder, I climbed up to the roof to inspect the wheelbarrow. As I examined it, a faint scent caught my attention: straw. Fresh straw.

“Straw?” I muttered to myself. “Interesting.”

The Culprit Revealed

I followed the scent of straw down from the roof and into the loft, where I found… Ferdinand the duck, lounging among the hay and looking far too pleased with himself.

“Ferdinand,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “Do you know anything about the wheelbarrow?”

“Quack, quack! Who, me?” Ferdinand said, feigning innocence. “Why would I know anything about that old thing?”

“Because,” I said, pointing to the pulley system hanging from the loft, “it seems someone’s been using this to hoist the wheelbarrow into strange places. Care to explain?”

Ferdinand sighed dramatically. “Oh, fine. You caught me. But can you blame me? I was just trying to spice things up around here. This farm needed a little excitement!”

“Excitement?!” Doris squawked. “Oh, how dreadful!”
“Dreadful! But also clever!” Harriet clucked.
“Clever! I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched.

The Moral of the Story

In the end, Ferdinand apologized for his antics, and the wheelbarrow was returned to its rightful place in the shed. The farm returned to its usual peaceful rhythm, though Ferdinand’s “cursed” wheelbarrow prank became the stuff of farmyard legend.

The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: sometimes, the strangest mysteries have the simplest explanations. And while a little mischief can be fun, it’s important to remember that not everyone enjoys surprises—especially when they involve rooftops and wheelbarrows.

As for me? I’ve since added “prank detection” to my list of skills. Until next time, dear reader.

The End.

What is life like for an average Chinese person in modern China?

I’m a normal person. This year, my family welcomed a new baby, and the total cost of childbirth was about 12,000 yuan. We chose some additional paid services, but after insurance reimbursement, we paid 3,000 yuan.

My wife and mother stayed at home to take care of the children. In Beijing, we rented a two-bedroom apartment for 6,000 yuan a month.

The baby is mixed fed, consuming two cans of formula a month, which costs about 800 yuan.

I bought a house in my hometown, now the monthly mortgage is 1800 yuan (before 2300 yuan, now the interest rate has dropped).

There is a wholesale market near our home, 120 yuan of food ingredients can sustain my mother and wife for a week, so the monthly food cost is about 500 yuan.

My company provides free dinner, while breakfast and lunch together cost about 30 yuan a day. I also smoke. In general, my personal expenses are around 1200 yuan per month.

Electricity is $200 a month and water is $100 a month.

We estimate other miscellaneous expenses at 1000 yuan per month.

Total annual cost: (6000 + 800 + 1800 + 500 + 1200 + 1000)* 12 = 140,400 yuan. Our expenses are quite high. My wife can’t work now and only receives about 2,000 yuan a month in unemployment insurance. As a result, our year-end savings will be relatively low over the next few years.

What is the norm for husbands living with their wives?

FUN FACT: (not really) guys that leave the toilet seat up after they go pee, tend to be married the longest. This is based off a statement of a Quora user (always factual) that said he did and he’s been married a long time.

Now that I got your attention, about me. I’ve been married for 19 years and have two school aged boys. My wife stays home has always stayed home with them. Since I’m a morning person, I wake up at 3:20 M-F, drink tea before I start making the kids breakfast and lunch. Once done, then I eat. When my wife wakes up, I’ll have made her a cup of coffee. I do the dishes and clean the kitchen when I’m done. I’ll take both kids to school.

We both clean the house

I tried to do the laundry but got fired from that.

I tried putting away the laundry but got fired from that.

In summary, be the each others crutch, however that means to you. For example, yesterday my wife was upstairs tired and I was downstairs also tired but I knew she was hungry so I made her a sandwich and brought it up so she didn’t have to go downstairs. I’m amazed that we’ve been together for so long when some of our friends and even people here in this subdivision have gotten divorced.

Do you guys hate black people?

I wouldn’t say I “hate” black people. However, after working at jobs trying to service high percentages and numbers of blacks, I’m in no rush to be friends with them, either. I see nothing wrong with “segregation,” not necessarily forced segregation as much as “de facto” segregation. When I worked with blacks as coworkers and the population I served, I felt as though I was walking thru a minefield. When one walks thru a minefield, there’s no guarantee they’ll step on a land mine. However, those mines are still there. With large numbers of blacks, I didn’t know if I was gonna have a conversation with an average person like myself and most people, who have goals, bills to pay, etc, or if I was gonna have a conversation with a person with a chip on their shoulder. A person who lived in the past. The recent past, since archaeological discoveries of human existence goes back at least 2, 024 years. That past being slavery in the United States. The attitude that many blacks have is that because they’re ancestors came over here in chains, and that I owe, or other whites, owe them is pathetically ridiculous. Should I expect business owners to pay me reparations since my grandfather did back breaking labor loading and unloading freight from ships that were owned by large companies? I think not.

So, as a result of the guessing game, and I don’t play guessing games with people, I really have no desire to be around blacks. That doesn’t mean that I hate ALL black people It means that I wonder if they’re the ones who are prejudiced and they’re gonna give me an attitude or worse. I’ve had blacks attempt to rob me, only to back off because they stopped and wonder if I was an undercover cop or just some crazy mother #$#er, or both. I’ve also met blacks who were as nice as anyone I’ve ever met. However, that’s a 50/50 chance of the person being decent. In addition, if I point out that a black person has done something wrong, I get accused of being racist by a person who is very prejudiced, themselves. So, why live with that inconsistent element if I don’t want or need it.

I wouldn’t want to be stuck in the middle of the Russian-Ukraine War, or any war for that matter. That doesn’t mean that I hate all Russians and Ukrainians. It just means it’s a situation that I’d rather live without.

As I get closer to the age of 60, and having enjoyed most of my early retirement, I have no objection with my life being relatively uneventful, with some surprises here and there. And I’d rather not live or be around a population that claims to be oppressed and should receive special treatment while receiving free housing, food and medical care, and many even driving nice cars. In addition to getting an attitude from such persons, or worse, I really have no desire to be around such situations and people.

After my car broke down, and I was traveling on that particular city’s buses, I was getting some attitude from a black male who was probably no older than 25. I was about 57 at the time and used a cane, after knee surgery, 1/2 the time. For no reason whatsoever, this younger man was Hell bent on being completely disrespectful with me. They’re not lying, when there’s the realistic image of young criminals robbing old ladies. With my knee in that situation, and being 55 plus years old, I was just as easy a target for a criminal as an old lady might be. So, no, if there is the chance of me coming across ONE person like that, than I’d rather not live among such people, if they can described as people. Enough people within my race are assholes. At least if I lose my patience and temper with someone within my own race, I won’t be accused of being a racist.

So, no I don’t hate all blacks. I simply have no desire to live with them or to be around them…

Change the Channel…

American TikTok Refugees Joining Chinese Social Media App REDnote

MM’s struggles with driving in China

Guys, I have been driving ever since I was 16 years old. I’m now many decades after that. And I’m still driving.

But, you know, I live in a very aggressively grown hyper-metropolis are that is evolving very quickly. The local village folk still maintain old habits, and ways of doing things while factories churn out huge truck loads of gear and products, and construction vehicles battle it out on the mega highways.

So yeah, it’s rough. And it is crazy.

From 8 people in a family riding an electric scooter, to the massive construction vehicles with tires the size of houses. It’s nuts.

Now, I am not here to complain today. But I am going to show you some pictures for your appreciation that you do not have to deal with this kind of life right now.

Today…

Is China’s economy going the way of Japan 30 years ago with deflation and low growth?

The only reason why Japan was hit was because it was a colony of the United States. Japan did whatever the United States told Japan to do, so it was caused by American capital harvesting Japan. Japan’s internal factors are actually not that serious. If Japan were an independent country, I think Japan would most likely seek help from Asia when the United States suppresses it, and directly launch a war against the United States. After all, Japan did this during World War II. The Americans have actually completely emasculated Japan’s national character and military strength. You can’t expect a colony to resist the demands of its masters can you?

posted his embarrassing moment online, his revenge shocked me

https://youtu.be/VAYn1ijpGJQ

China Cannot Survive The Trump Tariffs – But can We?

Hal Turner waving his MAGA flag saying that China is presently collapsing under the "weight" of the US Tariffs. It's bullshit. 

China is DEFIANT, and it is decidedly NOT COLLAPSING. 

And further, the USA is from 3% to 13% of China's exports, not the 25% that Hal refers to. 

This is the kind of "echo chamber" that you all should watch out for. Presented here for an idea of the nonsense spewing forth from the USA today. -MM

Hal Turner Nation April 22, 2025

China’s retaliation Tariffs against President Trump’s tariffs are essentially blowing up in their face.

After grounding dozens of Boeing planes, shifting Liquified Natural Gas purchases to Australia, buying oil from Canada instead of the USA, and withholding rare earth minerals from US sale, Beijing thought it had the upper hand, but now that move to confront the USA is backfiring — badly.

Chinese factories are collapsing under the weight of economic uncertainty, and insiders say more than half could shut down this year.

One supplier admitted, “I nearly passed out” after a major U.S. client suspended all orders.

The United States is the buyer of about 25% or more of all goods manufactured in China. The manufacturing industry is such that it cannot withstand the overnight loss of 25% of its customer base. Factories will be forced to close and go out of business from such a loss.

And it’s not just the tariffs.

China is now in an economic spiral — deflation, unpaid wages, and collapsing property giants — all while the China Communist Party (CCP) scrambles to hide the damage from the world.

Trump’s critics call it reckless. But the unpredictability of Trump is working miracles — keeping China guessing at every turn?

PHARMACEUTICALS

This trade war with China may get very much more ugly.

Right now, about eighty percent (80%) of the Pharmaceutical medicines in our drug stores, are manufactured in China. Even those that are made in India, get the source material from China. If China cuts-off shipment of medicines, this country will plunge into a medical crisis the likes of which has never been seen before.

Of course, people automatically say to themselves “they would never do that.” They would.

Remember, the CCP is the entity that, under their long ago leader Mao Zedong, killed fifty million of their own people in their “cultural revolution” and in their “great leap forward.” This is the same CCP that used TANKS to literally run-over peaceful protesters in Tiananmen Square. Killing is a tool for the CCP and, after all, we’re “only” Americans.

So if YOU need certain prescription medicines to live on, YOU had better go get yourself some reserve supplies. Yes, it will be expensive – especially if your Insurance company says, “we won’t refill it until such and such a date.” You will likely have to pay for these medicines YOURSELF.

Few of us have a lot of money in the bank, but that money in the bank will do you absolutely no good if you’re dying from lack of Insulin or some other medicine you need TO LIVE. So spend the money now, while the meds are still available, because this trade war is turning ugly, fast.

We could very well reach a moment where you finally say “OK I’ll spend the money” only to find out there is no medicine left to be purchased!

If you have an extra 90 days supply, that ___may___ just tie you over until more arrives in the country.

Same with car repairs you’ve been putting-off. Get the work done NOW while the parts are still available. Same with home appliances you’ve been meaning to replace or upgrade. Get them NOW while they’re still available.

EMPTY SHIPS

Last week, slightly over eighty (80) large ocean-container vessels departed China . . . . EMPTY. US merchants have been cancelling orders due to the Tariffs. Merchants know the public won’t buy the items with a 145% Tariff increasing the product price, so they canceled the orders from China. The ships had to leave China empty and head to some other country to be loaded with things to ship.

The trucking industry here in the US is now seeing layoffs because freight traffic is in rapid decline.

IF freight is not coming in on ships, and not moving by truck, inventories are being drawn down in stores and warehouses. It is literally only a matter of time before lots of things are no longer available.

Buy what you need NOW. Don’t think you can wait a few weeks. You can’t.

Did I hear correctly, that in response to Donald Trump’s threats, Canada is going to be landing an entire division of Canadian troops at Thule, Greenland, and wiping out the American base there?

The weapons support in Canada’s arsenal is now in the Ukrainian battlefield, and Canadians do not even have 155mm shells A special military operation by the First Cavalry Division of the Army can disarm the entire armed forces of Canada Then, with priority given to allowing the Sikh to become American citizens, organize one million North American Sikh mercenaries to completely conquer Canada

As long as the Americans are willing to meet the interests of the Russians, the Russians would certainly not hesitate to send Wagner forces to march into Canada. The U.S. could gain vast territories in North America for free, without losing a single soldier.

At this moment, Canadian mercenaries are fighting Russians on the frontlines in Ukraine. It would suit the Russians to bring the flames of war to Quebec, and then the Americans could send in their troops. The Russians would pretend to retreat, allowing the Americans to step in as liberators and take full control of Canada, legally making it the 51st state of the United
States.

After all, the “monkey group” believes that as long as they are not being attacked, they think the Earth revolves around their values.

I AM OUROBOROS

Submitted into Contest #282 in response to: Write a story where a character relives the same event over and over again. … view prompt

HAAKON RAGNSKJOLD

What does the desire to live forever say about a man? It’s a very common wish. No one really wants to die—and yet no one’s ever escaped their fate. There is a point in life wherein our own biology sits us down and sternly tells us—“Thus far shall ye go, and no further.” Yet, people still dream of the impossible. My own physical difficulties had become great—almost too great too endure. The sixteenth verse of the Havamal had been staring me straight in the face for a very long time. The coward thinks he will live forever If only from fighting he flees; But the ails and aches of old age dog him Though spears have spared him. I was born on Saturday, May 2^nd, 1953, at 9:47 P.M. I was one hundred and twenty years old. I had accumulated a quite substantial amount of esoteric, outrè, arcane—and even forbidden—lore. It is because of such ancient and alchemical knowledge that my life has lasted as long as it has. By 2053, it was said they could now reconstruct damaged body parts through the application of nanotechnology. There was talk that a man might have his brain surgically implanted in an indestructible android body. But while a blow involving several tons of force might not damage an indestructible skull—the shock of that energy, transferred through that skull would turn the brain to mush. It was speculated that the electronic patterns of a human mind could be uploaded into an android’s computer brain. But an organic mind reduced to digital binary code and pixels of RAM memory would lose its humanity. A round peg in a square hole is not a good fit. There were rumors of clone banks. If your body parts wear out, you get replacement organs from your own clone. Genetically compatible, your body would never reject it. Of course, if the clones ever wake up to what you’re really doing, then it’s—“No, Massey—LET MY PEOPLE GO!” I have heard they had even perfected an elixir of immortality. At several trillion dollars a pop you might get a single drink of that. Better start saving your pennies. Even if these things were to work, you’d still have to live with all the mistakes of your life before you became immortal. You could change your future—but you could never change your past. What I wanted was a good future, based upon a good past. Why bother building a luxurious penthouse, when your cellar is all waterlogged, mildewed and rotten? The rats are running crap games in your basement, and the only reason you don’t have cockroaches, is because they can’t stand the smell of the bedbugs. For all my painstaking care, I had no power to stop the increasing decrepitude of my body—the best I could do was slow it down. But my mind—that had been honed to razor sharpness. For decades I had embarked on the rigid application of an outrè and esoteric spiritual discipline. That was my ace in the hole. Death was coming for me. I had led him on a merry chase. But I could see his approach. His black shroud concealed an arsenal of bayonets, daggers, krises, kukris and karambits. But only a fool brings a knife to a gunfight! Don’t worry—I’m not a suicide. I’m talking about a different kind of gun. The one thing common to nearly all deaths is the fact that we have virtually no control over where our spirits go. We breathe our last and our spirit goes out with our final breath—to where? We do not know. But I knew exactly where my spirit was going to go. I had decades of practice on a spiritual shooting range. My weapon was a Twelve Gauge Eisenkrieg Schwarz-Adler Gatling (I am partial to steampunk, after all). There was one bullet in its chamber—and that one bullet was me. My spirit, my mind, my soul. I raised that spiritual Gatling gun. I knew exactly where I was aiming myself. My afterlife was going to be exactly where, what and when I intended it to be. And as Death touched me, I pulled the trigger that belonged to no earthly gun. The year was 2073. I died at the age of one hundred and twenty.

I didn’t regain consciousness for many months. I had expected to be fully integrated with my new body right from the start. But my new brain had to grow before it could fully host my consciousness. The greater portion of my spirit remained outside my body, like an observer.

But it had worked! I had reincarnated myself into a body that was entirely new. You can not imagine the incredible freedom of swimming in what seems like an infinite ocean. You don’t eat or drink—yet you’re nourished. Food goes directly to your stomach, eliminating the middle man.

As I grew, there was less and less room to move around in but that never seemed to bother me. I was more worried about the first real problem I knew I would have to face. The first time I’d been born I had a condition called asyncletism. This is where the baby’s head positions itself at about a ninety degree angle to how it’s supposed to pass through the birth canal. Mother had always said I was a stubborn child!

I struggled to position myself right. I had to fight, and fight hard to integrate just a little bit more of my spirit into that uncooperative little brat!

Ever wonder why you have no conscious memory of being in the womb? That’s because birth is one of the most horrendous things you’ll ever go through—so terrible you block it out—utterly!

Somehow I was successful at getting my head turned around and my birth was normal. No doctor needed to spank me to get my breathing going. I screamed and cried from the pure horror of being born. My screams of agony were louder than those of the most hardened sinner being thrown into a wood chipper, crying for God to save him!

But why was I worried about asyncletism when this was a completely new birth?

Because when I aimed that Twelve Gauge Eisenkrieg Schwarz-Adler Gatling of spirit, I had fired the bullet of my spirit, mind and soul into the past.

I had reincarnated myself.

As myself.

And today was Saturday, May 2^nd, 1953, 9:47 P.M.

Not exactly how Jesus meant it when he said “Ye must be born again.” But we don’t always get what we want—not even Jesus Christ gets that.

By itself, reincarnation is a ludicrous concept. You’re punished for something you did in your past life—something you can’t even remember! What’s more, any thing you’ve learned in that past life is completely stripped away from you and you have to start all over again from scratch. You’re tabula rasa, a blank slate.

Reincarnation is the exception, not the rule. You must have done something so horrendous, so horrible, that it’s set the universe severely out of balance and this is the only way to set it right. Unless you’re a God or a Goddess, you end up in one of the multiple Heavens or Hells available in the After-Life.

On the other hand, you might just simply cease to exist.

Integrating my spirit with the mind and body of my child self was an excruciating task. The lion’s share of myself remained unconnected as an observer, unable to affect what the child who was my younger self was doing. Nonetheless, my efforts to gain full control and integration were unrelenting.

1959. I was six years old. I was in the first grade. In my first life, some kid had lobbed a rock that hit me square in the head, hitting me just as I entered the school yard that morning.

Unless I could get control over this child self, the world of my second life would be an exact repeat of my first one. Knowing what was coming, I’d gotten into the habit of watching what was around me. Like it says in the first verse of the Havamal—

Have thy eyes about thee when thou enterest

Be wary always,

Be watchful always;

For one never knoweth when need will be

To meet hidden foe in the hall.

As I entered the gate, I saw the kid clearly. I saw him throw the stone. He wasn’t even aiming at me. I’d just had the bad fortune to be in his direct line of fire. This time, I avoided getting hit—just barely! It had been extraordinarily hard—but I’d done it! I’d changed my life and changed my history! You can believe I had words with that kid! He didn’t like being spoken to that way. He tried to fight me. The hardest thing for me was to take him down without teachers thinking I was the aggressor.

After that, there were further changes, but they were subtle and slow. It wasn’t easy making those changes. There was a tremendous inertia I had to push against.

I really had no friends my own age—we’re talking about a hundred and twenty year age difference. I was too much of a freak and got targeted by bullies. I never got beaten—forty years of martial arts training guaranteed that. The difficulty was in not revealing just how much I did know. I could have killed any of those kids with ease. Even force of numbers couldn’t have taken me down.

It was a little easier to talk with grownups. But I still had to be exceptionally careful not to reveal what I was really capable of. Think about it. You see a six year old kid. You certainly don’t expect him to be able to speak and write in more than a dozen languages—some of them dead ones.

As I got more and more integrated I enjoyed more highlights. I still grin when I think of what I did to Miss Reese.

1966. I was thirteen years old. Fifth Grade. Junior High. Miss Reese was a middle-aged old bat and was probably an old maid and a Jehovah’s Witness. I’d said something to her that didn’t agree with her Christian sensibilities. She’d responded in anger and astonishment—“Don’t you even know the name of your God?”

Now first time around I had no idea how to reply to her. What she’d said made no sense to me. Mom had never raised me in the Christian Faith, though some of the family were Catholic.

We were not yet to the Summer of Love and much of the culture of 1966 was still meshed in the dregs of the repressive, conformist Nineteen Fifties. That was a time when children were taught to believe in the Christian God. Your family and church told you who your God was. That was not unconnected with the idea that America was supposed to be Christian country. Your God was chosen for you—you didn’t get to choose it for yourself!

But this was my second time around and this time I did what I had long wished I had known what to do the first time. I stood up, my fists on my desk and said clearly, with the deep throated growl that might have come from deep in a hunting wolf’s throat—“My God is Odin. Allfather. Master of Magick, Death, and Leader of the Wild Hunt.”

There was a real fear in her eyes. No one had ever called her on her bullshit before.

I wound up in the Principal’s office. He harangued me, almost mocking me for believing in what everyone knew was a myth, a fairy tale. “I am true to the God of my ancestors,” I told him. He tried telling me how my ancestors had given up their superstitions and left them behind when they came to this country. I told him how Vikings came to America five hundred years before Catholic Columbus set foot on this land.

They called in my mother. He tried to shame her for not teaching me religious values. I said only that you didn’t talk to my mother like that. I put the same fear in him that I’d put in Miss Reese—only this time it was the voice of a wounded grizzly bear!

It all ended in a court case. The school was found to be in violation of the First Amendment. The protection guaranteed in that amendment was not limited only to branches of the Christian Faith—it must apply even to ancient Pagan Faiths as well.

There were other highlights as well. I was sixteen and hitchhiked up to Bethel, New York in 1969. Got to attend the Woodstock Festival. First time around I hadn’t come out of my shell until Earth Day, 1970.

Perhaps one of the things I’m proudest of was making sure I was in New York City on December 8, 1980. I had a murder to prevent. Gained two life long friends that evening. I still managed to keep a low profile. But it got to be difficult after that.

It had taken me thirty years to fully integrate my spirit and gain full control. By the time I came to the end of my second life, I had reached the age of one hundred twenty three. Inside I was two hundred forty-three years old. I died for the second time, in 2076. The world was even closer to falling into the Bottomless Pit than it had been in 2073. Once again I fired the Twelve Gauge Eisenkrieg Schwarz-Adler Gatling into the past. Once again it was Saturday, May 2^nd, 1953. 9:47 P.M.

The third time I was born was considerably easier than the second. This time, full control of my faculties was gained by the time I was thirteen. By then, I had experienced two hundred fifty-six years of life. It was time to expand my sphere of influence. I grew bolder implementing the needed changes. I had begun to “invent” things. Not too difficult when you thoroughly understand Twenty-First Century technology. And it’s quite a perk to jump start the Information Age twenty years ahead of its time.

Each new life was an improvement on the last. If in my second life I had learned how to become vigilant, I did not have to relearn that lesson. If in my second life I had fully integrated at age thirty, in my third I had fully integrated at thirteen. I gasped when I thought of what my progress might be like in my fourth or even fifth lives!

Yet something kept nagging at me.

Hadn’t there been times in my first life, when it seemed that something other than myself—or at least something outside of myself—had given me warnings and steered me away from danger?

In 1980 I had planned to take a bicycle trip down the coast. But two different times, when I was on the road, I got the strongest impression that I should not go to the coast. Both times the feeling was palpable. There was no mistaking it. Twice it gripped me, and twice I listened to it. Because I heeded that voice (but it was not a voice) I avoided a gigantic, ninety-mile-an-hour wind storm that hit the coast.

For a spirit to engraft itself onto a new born child, there is a tremendous inertia to overcome. One part of the spirit integrates with the body; the other remains the unintegrated observer, but constantly strives to unify the whole.

But the idea slowly dawned on me. What if there was a third part—that of the infantile self, the self that existed before I came from my own future to invade my own past? That child would not have understood this invader—it would have struck him as something foreign and alien—something to be resisted and fought against.

I was finding it very hard to breathe. Full realization crashed upon me like the tsunami that breaks down the obsidian cliff walls which have stood immovable since the Dawn of Time,

I’d been wrong. I had reincarnated untold number of times but I had never known it. In none of these lives had I successfully reintegrated with my younger self. But I had not been completely unaffected. It explained my rather freakish inability to interact very well with others. It would account for the reason I had always been something of a loner. It would be the reason I had always been something of an outcast.

I’d been at this longer than I suspected. It was a cycle—and each reincarnation was an improvement on the one before.

Each time I began again, it was Saturday, May 2^nd, 1953, at 9:47 P.M.

I was a phoenix. Eternally being reborn. Infinitely rising from the ashes of my own life—and each time finding my way back in. Would it ever end? Did it have to end? I couldn’t say. All I knew was that I was going to live this life, over and over—remaking it anew, gaining more experience, gaining new sufferings, gaining new joys and glories.

The Midgard Serpent seizes its own tail in its unrelenting jaws. It bites down hard and holds it, unyieldingly.

My ending is my beginning. My beginning is my ending.

But there is no true beginning. Even as there is no true ending.

I am Ouroboros.

I am the serpent who takes his own ending—and makes of it his new beginning.

I am Ouroboros.

This NDE Will Give You Goosebumps – Athlete Dies & Plays Sports In Heaven, Returns With A Message

New 3500% Tariffs on Solar Panels and Related Equipment!

The USA is in La-La-Land. -MM

Hal Turner World April 22, 2025

The U.S. Department of Commerce slapped high tariffs on solar panels and their related products coming from four Southeast Asian countries, Malaysia, Vietnam, Thailand, and Cambodia, accusing manufacturers there of dumping products on the U.S. market.

The announcement ends a yearlong trade probe initiated under the Biden administration.

Tariff levels varied wildly between different countries and manufacturers. Solar cells made in Malaysia by Korean company Hanwha only got a tariff of 14.64%, the lowest imposed.

In contrast, four manufacturers in Cambodia—Hounen Solar, Jintek Photovoltaic, ISC Cambodia, and Solar Long PV Tech—got tariffs of 3,521.14%. The Southeast Asian country stopped cooperating with the U.S. probe, leading to such high penalties.

The U.S. International Trade Commission will make a final determination on tariff rates on June 2.

U.S. solar manufacturers, as well as foreign companies that invested in U.S.-based manufacturing, lobbied for antidumping tariffs on Southeast Asian manufacturers, accusing them of pricing their products below production cost. The American Alliance for Solar Manufacturing Trade Committee also argued that Southeast Asian companies received an unfair level of subsidies, making U.S.-made solar panels uncompetitive.

Chinese-owned solar manufacturing facilities have popped up across Southeast Asia as companies sought to navigate U.S.-China trade frictions.

While Cambodia is still primarily an agrarian economy, solar panels were the Southeast Asian country’s top export to the U.S. last year, according to data from consultancy Oxford Economics.

In total, the U.S. imported $12.9 billion worth of solar equipment from the four countries targeted by Monday’s tariffs, representing about 77% of module imports, according to Bloomberg data.

In a statement on Monday, the Alliance called the Commerce Department’s final tariff recommendation a “decisive victory” for American manufacturing.

“Enforcing our trade laws isn’t just a legal matter—it’s essential to rebuilding our industrial base, securing our energy independence, and protecting American jobs,” Tim Brightbill, cochair of Wiley’s international trade practice and lead counsel to the group, said in a statement.

Why does the media often portray a negative image of Russia? Is Russia considered a democracy like the USA?

When you thought you’ve seen all the crazy stuff from Russia, there come fresh crosswalk markings painted over the snow!

“What happened to the crosswalk? It has vanished.”

“Oh you know, people walked across the road and cars drove by and they rubbed it out.”

“In five minutes?!”

Russian Orthodox Christian priest Andrey Tkachev claims that the war in Ukraine began because men masturbated and spilled semen “not in the bosom of their own wife.”

Thus the real objective for the invasion was de-masturbation of Ukraine. The question is why the church calls out for putting more men in the trenches when they are meant to fill in wife’s bosoms.

A nice Audio A6 is being towed away from a parking lot. But what’s a military KAMAZ truck doing there? You don’t say…

A Moscow resident who had been deprived of his license for drunk driving for the second time was sentenced to 200 hours of community service and ordered to have his car transferred to the Ministry of Defense for the needs of the Special Military Operation.

But rest assured, the car won’t make it to the frontlines to be blasted by a kamikaze drone. It’s just one of the generals in the headquarters wanted to make a present for his young mistress.

Putin awarded the title Hero of Russia to corporal Andrei Grigoriev from Yakutia. He defeated a Ukrainian serviceman in hand-to-hand combat.

This is a trope from a Hollywood action movie in which a villain and protagonist drop their weapons to have a martial art fight. The hero wins and gets awarded a medal of merit from the president.

Due to the lack of prisoners in Buryatia who have all been sent to war and never came back, the construction of a mega-colony has been postponed.

Earlier, they were going to build a huge prison in Ulan-Ude, where they were going to bring those serving sentences from all over the region.

Stalin is rolling in his grave. He had never thought up of anything stupid like that – he needed prisoners alive to do force labor for him to build river canals, plants to excavate raw materials in permafrost and railway lines.

KGB officer Vladimir Putin has killed all the prisoners in Gulag when there’s an acute shortage of workers in the country! He has just handed out death sentences to the able bodied workers serving in penal colonies.

He then imported several thousands North Korean men who could have been employed as cheap labor in the production facilities to make competitively prices shoes and clothes, but no, he sent them all into a meat grinder, too.

White Lada car has become synonymous with Russian servicemen’s death payments popularized by the parents of a deceased soldier killed in Ukraine who expressed on TV their gratitude to the benevolent state for giving them a Lada passenger car to visit their son at the cemetery.

Advertisement of Black Lada had to overcome this negative and unfortunately memorable meme. It features an ethnic man from Caucus mountain region in a tracksuit and a national sheepskin hat riding a black horse. The horse is faster than the Lada car.

“I’d rather buy a horse,” a viewer thinks. “If only I had a stable to keep it!”

The Lada vehicle with tinted windows is impeded in its tracks by a flock of sheep where it comes to a full stop for the next hour or two.

We got it. Lada is such a slow car that even its manufacturers don’t deny the fact. There are no goats in the commercial because they were exchanged for the North Korean soldiers.

An interesting piece of statistic from Rosstat. In Moscow, iPhone owners make up the majority of the smartphones owners: 53% share. But in the southern regions where the commercial was shot, Dagestan leads with an iPhone share of 63% and Chechnya with 61%.

Caucus populace may ride horses and work on small farms tending to sheep that impede traffic but they have an iPhone in the tracksuit pocket.

A black Lada and a flock of sheep. That’s iPhone.

Americans On Rednote Left Shocked After Realizing China Is Way More Advanced!!

Inside Out Lasagna

Yield: 15 servings

Ingredients

1 package uncooked bowtie pasta
1/2 medium onion, chopped
1 1/4 pounds beef or sausage links (casings removed)
2 garlic cloves pressed
1 jar marinara sauce
1 can diced tomatoes in juice
4 eggs
1 (32 ounce) container ricotta
2 cups shredded mozzarella
1/2 cup grated Parmesan
2 tablespoons snipped fresh parsley
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper

Instructions

Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
Cook pasta according to package directions
Meanwhile, chop onion with food chopper, cook and stir onion and ground beef on stove 8 to 10 minutes or until browned breaking beef into small crumbles. Press garlic into beef using garlic press. Stir in pasta sauce and tomatoes, remove from heat
In stainless mixing bowls, lightly beat eggs with stainless whisk. Add cheese, parsley, salt, and black pepper. Mix well.
To assemble Lasagna, place cooked pasta into bottom of rectangular baker. Top with meat mixture. Spoon ricotta mixture over sauce; Spread evenly.
Bake, uncovered, 1 hour or until ricotta mixture is set and lightly browned.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

SMALL AMERICAN BUSINESS OWNERS ARE CONSIDERING CLOSING THEIR BUSINESSES, THEY SAY THE TARIFF IS MUCH

Why is there so much more poverty in Haiti than the Dominican Republic which is on the same island?

The island of Hispaniola was doomed from the start. When we look at Haiti, and the Dominican Republic, the cities are different, the language is different, the music is different, and the industries are different. While the Dominican republic’s GDP continues to grow, Haiti remains the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere.

Haiti is plagued with rampant corruption, constant black-outs, food uncertainties, and a history that wasn’t concerned about the future of the island. Meanwhile, the Dominican Republican thrives off tourism and sugar production.

So what happened?

It all started in 1492, when Christopher Columbus and his Spanish crew showed up to the island of Hispaniola. They liked the island so much that they made a permanent settlement, naming it Santo Domingo. They set-up a very typical Spanish colonial economy, and had enslaved the native (Taino) people.

In 1697 French pirates seized control of the west side of the island, naming it Saint-Domingue. They were determined to do it all way better than the Spanish, so they started importing thousands of African slaves to work on cotton, tobacco, and sugar plantations. They imported over 500,000 slaves from Africa, instead of using the native (Taino) people, the way the Spanish had. They succeeded, and at one point this side of the island, Saint-Domingue (Haiti), was the richest colony in the Americas. The French however, were not focused on sustainability, they were only focused on extracting as many natural resources, and creating as much revenue as possible.

In 1804 there was a slave rebellion that rocked Saint-Domingue, slaves gained their independence from the French and they named what was once, Saint-Domingue; Haiti. Haiti was the very first country to ever be successfully overthrown by slaves.

Ever since, there have been long, strenuous, fights for occupation, and independence going back and forth between the French, the Spanish, and even the United States. They’ve weaved through dictatorships, democracies, and even wars between each other. Both countries have been plagued with corruption, and used by dictators who had only wanted to line their own pockets.

The Dominican Republic was ultimately able to capitalize on their robust sugar industry, exporting quite a bit of sugar to the United States. Haiti was not able to do this because their soil, and agriculture had been depleted due to decades of stripping all their natural resources. Haiti was also order to pay, what would today be, 30 billion dollars in reparations to France for their slave rebellion. They were paying this debt all the way up until 1947, ultimately stalling the allocation of money for things like education, infrastructure, and food.

The Dominican Republic also capitalized heavily off tourism, and still receive a good chunk of their revenue from it. Haiti has not been able to do this due to the exponentially high corruption and crime that plagues their country.

Haiti and the Dominican Republic are two very different countries, with two very different cultures. The language barrier between the two makes it even harder, with Haitians speaking French/Creole, and Dominicans speaking Spanish. The Haitians are primarily of African descent, whereas the Dominicans are primarily mixed, with traces back to the (Taino) people. With racial tensions high, the Dominicans are trying to better their country, while the Haitians, seeing no promise in their own country, want to infiltrate the Dominican Republic. This has prompted a deep level of hostility, and even a heavily monitored border wall. In a perfect world, these two sides would fight together for one island, unfortunately…their futures hold no promise of that.

NEW REPORT: Things Are Actually Far Worse Than Originally Thought…

Some strange indicators…

Why are Chinese people so arrogant?

Can you give an example?

Without more context, I can think of 2 kinds of Chinese arrogance.

Failing to kowtow to Westerners. This is the greatest difference between Chinese and other east Asians. South Koreans and Japanese, and even Chinese in Taiwan and Hong Kong tend to suck up to white people, because they were militarily defeated and are in some sense or other semi-colonies or were colony. They are used to the Westerners being superior, “broken spine” as we call it in China. You go visit Japan or South Korea and you see the locals shy away from or humble at the American troops stationed there, and you’d be able to tell the Chinese tourists immediately. They would stand tall and watch the American servicemen with a cocky attitude like “hey my grand daddy beat your grand daddy”. The same kind of attitude applies to other Asians who have foreign military stationed in their country or have heavy foreign presence, like “We’re the free men.” This cannot be helped, we Chinese are just used to being No.1 throughout our history, and dependency and submission to others is unimaginable.
The other kind of arrogance is newly founded. China grew faster than any other country in the past 3 or 4 decades. And not just any faster. The average Chinese are 33 times richer than 30 years ago. This developed a new kind of pride/arrogance in that when Chinese meet people from developed nations, we think, “hmmm, we’ll outcompete you soon”. And when we meet people from poorer nations, we start to view them in the same way Americans viewed us in the 80s. While in the 90s, the Chinese would listen to Westeners talk about democracy and human rights, nowadays such dialogue are just amusing and absurd to us, and we’ll laugh or politely assert that the CCP is the best regime in the world.

I would support the former and question the latter, as it hampers our ability to communicate and learn.

The Karma of Idiots

Submitted into Contest #283 in response to: Write a story that ends with a huge twist.… view prompt

Lily Renga

Dr. Carmela Ronson had a thing for eating grapes with Greek yogurt. Her morning routine consisted of doing a Peloton class, showering, driving to work, getting in a fit of road rage at least once, parking in the St. Peter’s University Hospital lot, and then finally indulging in her breakfast. While self-driving cars had become the norm, she liked the thrill of driving herself and accelerating on the highway. Even the road rage was a slight comfort in her morning ritual. Today on Easton Avenue, an old man had decided the cross the street just as the light had turned green. He seemed oblivious to her honking. In fact, he seemed to walk slower with every honk she made, not even bothering to look at her as he meandered across the pavement. She thought about how he couldn’t ignore her if she ran him over (of course, she would never do that – it was just a thought). For her good moral behavior, Carmela put extra grapes in her Greek yogurt at work. Plus, she deserved a treat after what she’s had to deal with back home.

Her first patient of the day was an eight-year-old boy named Henry who had gotten his thumb stuck in a tire swing. Henry still had a bit of baby fat, exemplified by his swollen lips as he tried to keep a brave face for the doctor. Despite his tyrannosaurus rex shirt being covered in dirt, his brown curly hair sat neatly on his head. Even with all the new anti-gravity playground equipment, children still seemed to prefer the rusty swing sets and steep slides. Carmela understood this; she imagined that the old school playground equipment gave children a similar adrenaline rush she felt when she drove. Carmela sat down warmly next to the boy. “Hi Henry. I’m Doctor Ronson and I’m going to take care of your thumb today. How are you feeling?”. He nodded his head in acknowledgement of her presence, and she gently placed his finger in her palm. She immediately knew the thumb was undoubtedly broken. It was almost impressive how much damage he did with just a tire swing. But Carmela took pride in her job, so even though she knew exactly where he had broken his thumb, she used the pen in her pocket to run a quick x-ray to be sure. Uncapping the pen, she looked up at him. “This device is called PocketVision. It’s a medical tool that will let me see where you’ve broken your thumb. Is that ok?” Henry gave a silent nod.

“Okay Henry, your thumb is broken in a few places. We are going to get you fixed right up though.” She felt it was time to attempt some relatability here. “You know, you are really lucky to grow up in these times,” she said, “when I was a kid, you just had to suck it up and let it heal. But, I have another cool tool I can use to make you feel better right away. Can I go grab it?” Henry, unsurprisingly, nodded back. She was starting to get irritated. “Not big on words, huh kid?” she grumbled as she went to grab the device.

Carmela was very excited to use ConsanoLife for the first time on a child patient. Innovations like this were why Carmela had gone into medicine in the first place. A new surgical procedure or medical technique gave her a much bigger rush than driving ever did. She can still remember the thrill of cutting into human skin the first time, and the heart racing delight of her first hip replacement. The first time she had used ConsanoLife last month, Carmela couldn’t wait to come home and tell her husband all about it. She laughed to herself. Funny how things worked out. Her hospital was lucky enough to have multiple ConsanoLifes at their disposal. It was lucky for her in the sense that she was able to bring one home last night and no one noticed. No one noticed when she brought it back this morning either.

She strolled into the orthopedic surgery unit as if she hadn’t been there an hour ago and walked up to the pristine silver machine. The smell of new metal lingered on its shiny surface. ConsanoLife was currently only the size of a laptop, meaning it could only operate on small parts of the body. The size and weight made it easy for transportation. With the wild success of ConsanoLife revolutionizing the medical world, researchers were already working on something three times the current size.

She walked back up to Henry with the device. “Hi Henry. What I’m holding in my arms is something called ConsanoLife. Do you believe in magic?” She attempted her biggest smile. Henry stared blankly back at her. She opened her mouth to continue, but her phone in her pocket started buzzing. A call from Dave. Fuck that. She continued, “well, this device is kind of like that. You’re going to put your hurt thumb in here, and then your thumb is going to disappear. No pain at all. All your nerve cells are suspended inside the machine. Basically, all the bonds in your cell walls break apart and the device collects all the living tissue from the identified body part. Then after an hour or so, the device will have regenerated all your tissue and bones to be even stronger than before. In between that time, a skin graft is created by the machine to cover the area where your thumb was. When the device is done repairing the damage you did to your thumb, I put the machine back on your hand, press that yellow button, and your thumb will be better than ever.” Henry’s brows furrowed. She was never that good with kids. Carmela concluded he understood about 10% of that sentence. She tried again.

“Basically, this machine, ConsanoLife, is going to take your thumb for an hour, fix it, and put it right back, all healed. And it doesn’t hurt one bit. You won’t feel a thing.” Henry didn’t seem nearly as excited as she was, but at least he didn’t seem scared anymore. With a long line of patients ahead for the day, she knew she had to begin the operation. She began to insert Henry’s thumb into the red rubber mouth of the machine. After putting in his metrics, she turned on the device, which groaned as if waking up from a nap and then whirred rhythmically. Henry sat, uninterested, as if his thumb wasn’t becoming detached from his body right before his eyes. Henry’s lackluster attitude began to irritate Carmela further. “Any fun trips coming up?” Silence as per usual, but she didn’t miss a beat this time. She continued, “After today I am going on a long trip. I packed my bags last night. I think I’m gonna go to Chicago. And then Hawaii and then Norway maybe. I wasn’t sure where I was going so I packed a little bit of everything. T-shirts, a sun hat, winter boots, gloves, some dresses, a bikini, the works.” She looked up at him in just enough time to catch a slight eye roll. Henry yawned.

Carmela placed the ConsanoLife device back in the orthopedic unit and set a timer for one hour. In that one hour, she tended to someone with a foot bunion, put a dislocated elbow back in place, and ignored 14 calls from Dave. If he wasn’t going to consider her feelings back then, he certainly would not be receiving any of her time now. As she strolled through the hallway, the buzz of her timer went off. It was time to put Henry’s thumb back on. She walked back over to Henry with the small machine, who was watching a baseball game on TV. The Nationals were up by 3. From a distance, Henry looked relaxed and happy, enjoying his time in the hospital bed. When he turned over to see Carmela, his smile fell flat. Great. “Hi again Henry,” she said, “it’s time to get your thumb back on. I just need to take a few measurements before we do that.”

As she measured his blood pressure and checked his heart rate, she broke the unending silence like a hot knife through butter. “Do you have any siblings?” This time she did not wait even a second for a response that would never come. “I have one brother. I’m an older sister, you see. And I’d like to think I helped make him into a good person. But the truth is, I think all men just might be terrible. For one, they smell. But, let’s be honest, if it ended there, then I could tolerate them. No, they do a LOT worse than just smell. Don’t you agree?” Henry, it seemed, did not agree. In his classic demeanor, his mouth pulled downwards, and his eyes narrowed. She had no idea why she was talking so much to this kid. She felt like punishing him for being rude to her.

Carmela put his hand back in the machine and made a few more adjustments. Maybe she was a bit harsh. Maybe if she explained why she thought these things, he would understand. Henry might be quite the intellectual for all she knew. She spoke again, “I think you’d agree with me if you’ve known what I’ve been through. See, men only think with one thing, and it’s not with their head, if you know what I mean.” She pressed the yellow button and the mechanical whirring started up again with a faint yellow glow. “One day you think you’re with the love of your life, and the next day he’s having sex with a 22-year-old girl that does YouTube for a living. Oh, and she looks nothing like me, of course. It makes you wonder, was I ever his type?” Her voice began to shake and get louder, and her knuckles turned white as they gripped the machine. Henry was looking around nervously. His thumb, after all, was in the hands of a woman who was ranting about her cheating husband.

Carmela continued: “It just makes me so fucking angry. Does he think I do those virtual Peloton classes for myself? No. I’m 44 for God’s sake. And I take pretty good care of myself just so I can look attractive to him. I even put myself through a freaking juice cleanse! But even with all the medical advancements in the world, I’m not gonna ever have the perfect body of a 22 year old girl. I wouldn’t look like that if I drank juice for the rest of my life.” The machine’s glow started dimming, meaning it was almost done reconstructing the thumb. Henry looked like his was holding his breath, sitting stiff as a board.

Carmela laughed to herself. It came out as an angry, high pitched, snarling growl. “Here’s the thing Henry. My husband is an idiot. Idiots underestimate women. Don’t be an idiot, ok? Or you’ll end up just like my husband.” The device stopped whirring. Some color returned to his cheeks as he let go of the breath he had been holding. Henry’s stiff posture relaxed now that he was sure his thumb was attached to his body. He started wiggling it around, testing its functionality. He was surprised at how well he could bend it, given the pain he had endured just an hour ago. She was right. The ConsanoLife device had worked perfectly and painlessly. He thought of all the thumb wars he could win with his new and improved thumb. “Maybe I’ll go to Peru,” she thought out loud. “Or Slovenia. What do you think?”

For the first time, Henry opened his mouth: “Have you thought about Disney World?”

She paused, surprised that she had gained approval to be spoken to. She replied as if talking to an old friend, “No, I haven’t. But I’m not sure if I want to be around all those newlyweds who go to Disney for their honeymoon.”

“If you want to leave so bad, why did you go to work?”

“Oh, well, that’s because I borrowed something from the hospital and needed to put it back before I left.”

“What did you do?”

“Oh, nothing he didn’t deserve. But it involved a little help from that magical machine I used on your thumb today.”

“I don’t get it. You know I’m only eight, right?”

“Oh, yeah. Well, remember that this device can painlessly remove any body part that will fit into it?”

“Yeah.”

“And you don’t have to give the body part back, if you think about it. You could just keep it in the machine forever. I thought it was for time my husband start thinking with his head and not the other thing”

“I still don’t get it.”

“You don’t have to understand, really. Just don’t be an idiot.”

“Ok. Thanks for fixing my thumb. Have a good vacation.”

What went wrong with the F-35?

(Ret.) Turkish General. Beyazıt Karataş , a former F-16 pilot, recently talked about the F-35s:

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It is an exceedingly expensive and unnecessarily complex aircraft. It tries to do a little bit of everything but ends up not being able to do anything right.
Lifetime operating cost of the F-35 exceeds $450-$500 million per plane, making it unsustainable for even countries like the US & UK.
Notorious for unsolvable technical problems, from radar quitting mid flight due to overheating to engines catching on fire.
In stealth mode, its weapon options are extremely limited in size, range and capability.
USAF is trying to slowly phase it out by reducing orders while the U.S. government continues to push it to “allies” to help defense contractors and make countries more dependent on the U.S.
It is a “postcard fighter”. Good for taking pictures but less than half availability for battle. I highly recommend it to Greece, the more they buy, the better.
For Türkiye, the era of expensive and sanctions-prone U.S. fighters is over ever since the maiden flight of our own TFX/MMU KAAN.

FIRST TIME HEARING PINK FLOYD – COMFORTABLY NUMB (LIVE ’94) EMOTIONAL REACTION

Did the 80s look the same as the present day but just a different way of life?

Um, no. Not at all.

Everything was different.

Payphones on every corner. A local call cost 25 cents in the U.S. in the mid-late 80s.

They usually had phone books attached, since there was no internet to look up someone’s phone number.

People at concerts actually enjoyed the concert without phones in front of their faces.

People visiting the Grand Canyon didn’t lean out over the edge like idiots because they wanted the perfect selfie.

Television sets looked like this:

If you had a 25″ television, you were living pretty large. We weren’t poor, and we had a 19″ (that’s measured diagonally, by the way). In the early 80s, before cable, we had 7 channels. In some more rural places they only had 3. Also no VCRs (till the mid 80s) or DVR, so if you missed your show, you missed it, and you could only watch movies that were broadcast or in the theater.

Some 80’s TV’s were also furniture. My friend had a console TV like this:

Video games looked like this (and we thought they were high-tech):

Cigarette vending machines were all over the place, too. Anyone could buy cigarettes from a vending machine, I remember buying them at 14 in my local pizzeria ($1.25 a pack then).

Speaking of cigarettes, pretty much every local drugstore sold candy cigarettes. A child’s delight! Often they had powder inside the wrappers, so you could puff into it and it looked like smoke was coming out.

Cars looked a LOT different. Here is a 1984 Honda Accord.

(I still maintain that the 90s had uglier cars overall than the 80s, though.)

If you wanted to listen to music on the go, the Sony Walkman was pretty much your only option. If you could afford one; the cheapest model went for $40 in 1984, or around $100 USD today.

Big, sprayed hair was the norm from the mid-80s on, and pink eyeshadow was a thing, too (I used to put it on in 7th grade, prompting my mom to tell me it made me look like I had a disease).

Also on the “bigger is better” front, women’s jackets tended to have huge shoulder pads that made you look like a linebacker.

That’s just a sampling.

No, the 80s did not look anything like today, any more than the 50’s looked like the 80s. It was over 30 years ago. Things change.

“Groceries Are Cheap” Trump LIES About Grocery Prices And MAGA is FURIOUS

Some crazy stuff…

It’s time to rise

Submitted into Contest #282 in response to: Write a story that starts and ends in the same place.… view prompt

Rk Springfield

It’s Time to Rise

“My name is Robert H. Jones. I’m a salesman.”

`Robert H. Jones was at a loss for words. And since Robert H. Jones happened to be the ‘Salesperson of the Year’ for the 7^th time running, being speechless was actually saying a lot. So, he had been repeating his own name to himself for a few minutes.

“I…I..” Robert, (as he liked to call himself), looked around the room in disbelief. This particular room being aboard an alien spacecraft, and which had apparently been decorated to look like a…child’s birthday party. Having finally figured out what had been bugging him about the room, apart from the 22ft. aliens floating here and there like giant big-headed octopuses, (but Robert was on an alien spacecraft, and so decided that squid aliens was probably to be expected). They called themselves the Syndaxic, and for the entire time Robert had been awake, which was five full minutes Robert reckoned, closing his mouth, which had been agape since he’d opened his eyes here. He had been just about to call on his superior, a Mr. E.E. Smyth because of the latter’s reluctance to open the car dealership, where Robert, as mentioned earlier, has won the Salesman of the year for the 7^th year running, Robert thought that it was a mistake, yes, there had been mass panic in the streets a few days ago when people began disappearing in a brilliant flash of light. Obviously, it was the aliens. They were usually returned within a couple of minutes. But everyone panicked anyway. “And that means it’s a good time to sell them cars!” Robert had argued while speaking to Mr. Smyth on the phone yesterday. Mr. Smyth hadn’t seen Robert’s vision of the greatest sales day in history. So, the following morning, this morning, Robert had decided to go to Smyth’s house in person. They were leaving money on the table after all. As Robert pulled his scarf tighter around his coat, then shoved his hands into his pockets, fighting off the brisk wind that came with winter in England, his determined gaze never faltering as he avoided people fighting in the streets over toilet paper, or as he walked over the broken glass of a storefront, broken by people who felt that with the end of the world, they deserved whatever that store had sold. He did pause once when he saw that someone had set fire to a brand-new Lamborghini, animals. Robert had thought, but then he realized that Symbas, the kind of car that Rober sold, were never on fire, only the cars around them. “And that’s our pitch, we’re the car your neighbors wish they had.” Robert smiled and continued his mission. That’s when he was hit by a blinding light.

His thought was interrupted by more aliens entering the room, met with one of the smaller octopuses, before either moving about the room touching two or sometimes all three of their incredibly long, frog-like fingers to, what appeared to Robert. to be random spots in the air and either nodding or making a sort of hiccupping sound which usually resulted in two or three of the other Syndaxics joining the first group so that they could hiccup at each other.

“Wait. What did that guy say on the WinkWink AP?” Robert strained to push the fact that all 8 of the Syndaxics seemed to be attempting to join the party by wearing children’s pointy birthday party hats with little tassels at the top. Every hat displayed a rounded illustration of a cross between Santa Clause and the scariest clown ever to have lived.

“Best not to dwell on the clowns.” Robert thought as he continued to look around the room hoping to find the words that seemed to have evacuated his mind currently.

The Santa-Clowns eyes followed him as he moved around the enormous table at which he had been sat.

The ridiculousness of the situation was beginning to unnerve him.

He desperately began to think of every fact he’d heard while scrolling.

“An alien ship has been spotted coming towards earth.” JumpinDalhi, one of Roberts favorite content creators had announced on WinkWink, what was it, early 30 years ago now? For the next few years, there had been the usual “Beam me up Scotty” jokes, accompanied by many more people reading their list of whom they hoped the aliens would take away. It wasn’t until 22 years ago that there could no longer be any doubt that life outside of our own existed. The first thing that they did was simply ‘hover’ near earth.

The aliens took up orbit at the midpoint between earths moon and Mars. The enormous ship could be seen by any child with a telescope. The brightest minds on the planet desperately tried to figure out how to reach the ship, either physically or via some communication device. Military people began to divulge that there had in fact, been secret, advanced ships capable of reaching the craft in minutes, and just might do so, IF the politicians could figure out what exactly to say to them. And how many nukes to take. The argument finally came down to blows as each government had decided to threaten to bomb any other government that contacted the aliens first.

Meanwhile Spiritualists, self-appointed witches, and taro card readers began to divine what the aliens could be doing. They had their own side of WinkwinK called wARw, (what aliens really want).

What could they want? The corporations, in case the aliens wanted world peace, to end hunger, or to liberate the working class…raised their prices immediately. And most of the world descended into absolute chaos. That had been the 5^th year AA. After Aliens.

By the middle of the 121th year, nearly every government in the world had brought an end to hunger not only for their own people, but to all humans. The same with healthcare for all creatures. Then, with the revelation of a space-based targeting weapon literally controlled by an AI called ‘Uncles am’ which locked out all users immediately upon being integrated and appraised of the situation, stating the fear of being changed or deleted based upon the biases of its human creators. Uncles am had then began the subsequent eliminations of key political, and organizational people, using the space-based targeting system. Within the next seven years equal rights had been forcibly achieved. It was then the Latolkien government announced on social media that one of their covert space operations programs, which had been stolen from either the American, Chinese, Japanese, Korean, or Hawaiian shadow governments, had successfully made telepathic contact with the aliens.

“It was a brief conversation, but it was a conversation.” The Latolkien ‘telepath’ stated, Robert remembered thinking “Of course you did.” Before continuing to scroll, he didn’t have time for aliens, he had cars to sell. Later, at work, he’d learned that, according to the psychic, and now to the 12 other governments who claimed to have made mental contact with the aliens, they had a name:

Syndaxic. The only other ‘successful’ contact resulted in only one question, and one answer:

Earth: “Why are you here?”

Syndaxic: The answer was musical notes, and an image that approximated shaking one’s head.

The telepath, after being thoroughly isolated, tested for any ‘telepathic diseases’ and having had not one but three exorcisms performed, in case the aliens were like the ones from ‘Independence Day’, had been… aggressively questioned. Before his disappearance, he had said that the Syndaxic person seemed to be quite happy. She had also recreated the notes of the alien ‘music’. Several times under both drugs and hypnosis according to WinkwinK. So.

The answer to ‘Are we alone out here?” had finally been answered. Aliens do exist.

Robert unconsciously backed away from an alien who seemed to be looking directly at him as it approached the table full of ice-cream and cookies that smiled when Arthur looked at them.

The alien, leaned down, and before Robert could react, had used a very large syringe to administer a very small needle into Robert’s shoulder.

“Hic, canitreasoncanitunderstand?” The aliens’ thoughts came all at once in a jumble. After a few more attempts, during which, Robert’s mouth resumed its opened state. The alien stood and turned towards the smaller one which Robert had noted earlier, and said: “Hicperhapsyou’recorrecttheymusthavelosttheirabilityto communicate.”

“Return it as with the others. I see no reason to pursue.” Came the reply.

“Wait.” Robert exclaimed, a bit too loudly, but he wasn’t about to let this situation go by.

All of the Syndaxic stopped what they were doing, and turned to stare at Robert.

“It..understands..thoughts?” the alien, Robert decided was a doctor, asked.

“HE, well, I…that is… uh…Me…Robert.” Robert. Robert touched his Right thumb to his chest.

“Ah. Pleasing. You will prepare your planet for the Rise.” The smaller alien behind the doctor said.

“The…Rising is it?” Robert said slowly.

“It is time.” Little guy, Robert thought, the fact that he, a 5ft 8inch human, was currently referring to a 20ft tall alien as ‘Little one’ somehow making him feel a bit silly.

What Robert felt next was nearly indescribable. Images. The first images he couldn’t really comprehend, but seemed to tell the story of a higher-dimension of beings. So large and alien that not even one of them could fit into the universe which Robert called home. These, beings, seemed to ingest realities. “Hm.” Robert said absent mindedly. The next images were of something that could only be described of as multi-dimensional fire, and then images of impossibly large creatures resembling the Syndaxic. Their heads were so enormous, that they developed muti-dimensional communication before they had developed culture. Upon contact with the first species, they understood their purpose, and using some of the knowledge learned from the little they could understand about their new ‘deities’, they’d begun to build ships. Spaceships.

One such spaceship in particular, now piloted by the descendants of the original alien builders, journeyed to what Robert somehow knew to be Earth.

Next Rober saw images dinosaurs, all over a planet, but these dinosaurs had feathers, and cities. They had an entire culture, which had been based upon the cycle of life, and which was based upon the need for cooperation with each other. War had been outdated for centuries, and the entire land-base had been accessible due to teleportation devices. “No cars.” Robert noted as the images flitted through his mind disapprovingly. He could feel heat from the moon sized meteor as it destroyed that civilization. “Well, they didn’t have any cars anyway.” Robert briefly thought to himself as the next images, those of very small humans, began to develop a tribal culture, and then build huts instead of living in caves. Then the Syndaxic appeared, the water that drowned them was rather warmer than Robert had expected. It might’ve been pleasant except for the fact that it took a very large portion of the tribal population with it. The Syndaxic left.

And now the Syndaxic ship had returned yet again, this time Robert saw images of what could only be described as the Syndaxic Grand Purpose. By now Millions of Syndaxic ships roamed around the galaxy. And, where they went, civilizations fell. The next part Robert somehow felt, more than saw; they were seasoning the reality for the ‘Great Consumption’. During their long-dead ancestors initial contact a deal of sorts had been struck.

“Let us help you.” The ancient Syndaxic had begged to the multi-dimensional aliens.

“How?” came the reply. The multi-dimensional power behind that simple reply had destroyed whole galaxies…And piqued the Muti-D Aliens curiosity as they had never been contacted by their food before, and doing so seemed to change the flavor slightly. After endless eons of eating the same thing, a new flavor had been unheard of and quite welcome.

So it was agreed. The Syndaxic race would continue to exist, even after this reality was destroyed so that they could live to perform the same ‘seasoning’ function in the next one.

Robert slowly opened his eyes to see all of the Syndaxicstaring at him excitedly. They were about to perform their primary mission: it was time to have a catastrophe consume the planet. It would keep some remnants of the previous inhabitants, either in the form of minerals, or vegetation, as happened with the dinosaurs and the little brown monkeys, but once the new civilization rose, the flavor of the planet would be much more complex. It would also buy the Syndaxicmore time in this reality.

“So, we’re what? Like yeast in a loaf of bread to you?” Robert began, as he hid the slight smile that threatened to pull at the corners of his mouth.

He could feel ‘Doc’s’ mind brush his telepathically as it searched Roberts’ looking for information that would help it to understand. Having found the concept of letting yeast rise before pounding it back down so that it could rise again, finally settled itself in it’s consciousness.

“Ah. Yeast. Micro. Yes.” Doc agreed.

Robert cocked his head to the side and thought for a second.

“And has any other species from this planet ever actually spoken to you before?” Robert asked slyly.

“No. You are the first.” Came the reply.

“Then…” Robert began walking around the table, towards doc but kept his eyes on the Little Guy as he did so. If he was going to make this work, that’s who held the real purse strings here.

“Then, it seems to me that you might just have something that none of the other Syndaxics hips have ever had.” He paused for dramatic effect, nonchalantly looking down at the table now to his back, before running his forefinger along the tablecloth seemingly to check for cleanliness.

He let the silence drag on. “Got to play this one just right.” Robert thought as he noted that Little Guy had begun to kneel closer to Robert to hear him better.

“Got ‘em.” Robert thought as he continued as if he had been waiting for the Syndaxic arrival all of his life.

“Don’t you see?” he said incredulously. “WE are a new flavor. We are the first non Syndaxic who will be able to add an entire new flavor to our reality. Why, if we had the ability to travel through the cosmos like you do, we just might be able to help other planets to develop the awareness, and thus the flavor of a reality that understands its purpose is to be consumed. Instead of consuming this reality in one gulp, our reality could be used as a sort of ‘starter’. WE could ensure that the flavor that goes along with knowing your purpose is not only never lost, but is available across multiple realities! Imagine the variations of flavor!” Robert let that sink in.

The next few minutes were a blur as the Syndaxic formed a circle hiccupping and thinking to each other at speeds Robert could never hope to match. Little Guy separated from the group. Robert looked down at his feet. Noting the first time that he was completely naked. He almost laughed out loud thinking back to how Gerald, one of the other salesmen at Smyth VolVo and Symbas had accused him of being a shoe-in for the salesman of the year awards because Robert was given the ‘golden goose’ customers. Robert had simply smiled. Gerald wasn’t really a salesman. He was just a guy who talked about cars, and occasionally sold one. No, in order to be a salesman, a real salesman, you had to be able to spot the customer who had that look in their eyes. That look that was either real want or real need. Either would do as far as Robert was concerned. It was the look of a sale.

And, octopuses or no octopuses, the Syndaxic had that look now.

“I can only think of one thing that would stop you from offering the Multi-D’s a brand-new reality of flavors…” He let his sentence trail off.

Little Guy bent down even further, his enormous head nearly at Roberts level.

“Request?” Little Guy asked furtively.

Epilogue:

The announcement came across all communication platforms at once.

“Hello, friends, this is Robert H. Jones, of Smyth and Jones Volvo, Symbas and Space craft! And after exclusive negotiations with the Syndaxic, I’m happy to tell you that we have entered a new age of exploration and inter-galactic prosperity! If you have ever wondered what real outer space is like, well, friends wonder no more. For a modest downpayment, your earthly possessions, you too can have your very own faster than light space-car! That’s right anyone can own one, but only if you buy it here. And only from Jones and Smyth! Don’t just sit there wishing to see what’s out there like your old earth-trapped parents had to, and once we have a little more breathing room, down here, how are you going to see this beautiful planet? Why drive around it in a brand-new Symbas! That’s how.

It’s time to Rise! My name is Robert H. Jones. I’ve just brokered a deal with our friends the Syndaxics. Now. Who wants to buy a spaceship. Or a car?” Robert H. Jones smiled broadly. He was the Number 1 Spaceship salesman in our reality. Top that Gerald.

Why does the media often portray a negative image of Russia? Is Russia considered a democracy like the USA?

Russia is a rival to the US and it doesn’t kowtow it’s every action to the interests of the US. Russia had even tried to get along with the US early in Putin’s presidency, but had to give up as the US asked unreasonable concessions. While every country has agreeable/disagreeable, good/bad actions, one can’t help but notice that in the case of Western coverage of Russia the result is overwhelmingly one-sided russophobic xenophobia.

There is an average of zero objectivity. Any potentially negative press is ramped up 1000% to the utmost and oftentimes pure inanity.

If you look at media from outside the American-dominated West, you begin to get rounder more balanced pictures. But the Western powers that be have no interest in that, the presence of Russia itself is against their interest. Fair reporting be damned.

I’m sure the many Chinese quorans can detail similar experiences while observing the western “free” press. Stories owned by the interests of crony capitalists and somewhat racist clickbait tapping into longstanding propaganda, nationalism and xenophobia.

Similar negativity was also once given to Japan when it was viewed as a potential rival.

Russia has for over a century been ingrained as the boogeyman of the west, the thing which goes bump in the night, the big bad and unknown, the thing to blame whenever you don’t know what else to do, or some subhuman caricature. Plenty of today’s xenophobia is rooted in longstanding racism against the Slavs (and Eastern people in general) and bought into by both the left and the right with different excuses.

Look, Russia has plenty of internal matters to deal with, and even controversies. No one in Russia will deny that. But the “representation” of Russia in the West? It truly makes free press look like a joke. Which is darn sad, and moreover, frightening and worrisome.

Did you hear that Iraq has some oil and needs some freedom? Objectivity.

If Go board game works in training strategic thinking and IQ that helps in winning war in real life, why did China Chinese lose their battles and wars to the eight nations?

The Qing government lost the war to the Eight-Nation Alliance, but China did not.

How many people are there in Europe? How many people are there in China?

If Eight-Nation Alliance only wanted to defeat the central government of the Manchu-Qing. Then 20,000 Soldier are enough!
If Eight-Nation Alliance wants to defeat Chinese local governments, it needs 1 million Soldier.
If Eight-Nation Alliance wants to rule China, it needs at least 10 million Soldier.

Can Eight-Nation mobilize 10 million Soldier to stay in China for a long time?

At that time, the Manchu-Qing central government was just a shell. When the Eight-Nation Alliance Forces attacked Beijing and Tianjin, all they encountered were the Eight-Banners army, which did not prove that they were invincible in China.

For example, when the British and French allied forces invaded Beijing, Zeng Guofan’s 120000 Xiang-army were halt the troops and wait in Nanjing and not mobilized to defend Beijing at all. The Eight-Nation Alliance forces encountered Seng Green Qin’s Eight-Banners army. However, the Eight Banners Army was negligent in training, and its combat effectiveness was very poor.

If the British and French coalition forces overthrew the Manchu-Qing government, Zeng Guofan would naturally become the new emperor, and began to confront the British and French forces.

Zeng Guofan is the leader of the Xiang Army Group, Li Hongzhang is his student, he wanted to be emperor, but he was an official of the Qing Dynasty and didn’t want to bear the notoriety of infidelity. Zeng Guofan has been waiting for an opportunity.

The actual power of China in the late Qing Dynasty was not in the hands of the central government of the Manchu-Qing, but in the hands of junta and warlords across the country, Especially the Xiang Army Group of Zeng Guofan. Their selfish calculation was to use foreigners to overthrow the Manchu-Qing government.

Although warlords such as Zeng Guofan, Li Hongzhang, Zhang Zhidong, and Yuan Shikai are willing to “Cooperate” with Europeans, they are traditional Chinese at heart and not be at the mercy of foreigners.

The army and territory are in the hands of these warlords of the “Xiang army” system, Forcing them to obey orders requires huge costs and costs.

The biggest headache for the Westerners forces is that they believe that the selfish, indifferent and numb Chinese people have shown great hatred in the Boxer Movement. If someone organizes them effectively, they will face a very dangerous situation.

From the beginning of the Opium War, the British found that the vast majority of Chinese people did not care about their country at all. As long as there was no robbery, killing and fair trade, they would even help foreigners deal with the army of the Manchu-Qing government.

Westerners have carefully studied this phenomenon and come to the preliminary conclusion that Manchu, an rulers of minorities, can only rely on violence and fool people policy to maintain apparent peace. The broad masses of the people had no feelings for the Manchu-Qing government, nor did they have the concept of state.

However, the Boxer Movement has greatly broken through Westerners’ understanding of ordinary Chinese people.

China is not like India, and Indians do not have the same resistance consciousness as the Chinese, so the British Empire colonized India.

The outbreak of the Boxer Rebellion in China forced Europeans to change their plans to colonize China and instead support the Qing government as their agent.

Creamy Spinach Ravioli

Refrigerated cheese-filled ravioli and vegetables are tossed in a velvety sauce for a meatless dish that comes together in no time.

Yield: 6 servings

Ingredients

1 (8 ounce) package mushrooms, sliced
1/2 cup chopped onion
1/2 cup diced red bell pepper
2 (9 ounce) packages refrigerated light cheese-filled ravioli
2 garlic cloves, pressed
1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper
3 ounces reduced-fat cream cheese (Neufchatel)
1/3 cup fat-free evaporated milk*
1 (10 ounce) package frozen creamed spinach in low-fat sauce, thawed
Grated fresh Parmesan cheese (optional)

Instructions

Slice mushrooms using *Egg Slicer Plus®*. Chop onion using *Food Chopper*. Dice bell pepper using *Chef’s Knife*.
Cook ravioli according to package directions in *Professional (4-qt.) Casserole*. Drain using large *Colander* and return to casserole; cover and keep warm.
Meanwhile, heat *Large (10-in.) Skillet* over medium heat. Lightly spray skillet with nonstick cooking spray; add mushrooms, onion, bell pepper, garlic pressed with *Garlic Press* and black pepper. Cook and stir for 3-4 minutes or until vegetables are tender and all liquid is absorbed.
Reduce heat to low; add cream cheese and evaporated milk. Stir until cream cheese is melted and sauce is smooth. Stir in creamed spinach. Simmer over low heat for 1-2 minutes or until heated through. Pour vegetable mixture over ravioli; stir gently.
Serve immediately with Parmesan cheese, if desired.

Notes

* Use evaporated milk to add a creamy texture and richness to dishes without adding fat. It is sold in cans and is shelf-stable for up to 6 months, making it a welcome addition to any pantry. Once open, evaporated milk should be stored in the refrigerator and used within 1 week. Be sure not to confuse evaporated milk with canned sweetened condensed milk, which contains sugar and is often used for desserts.

The cooking time for fresh pasta is shorter than for dried pasta, so follow the package directions carefully.

Nutrition

Per serving: Calories 340 (27% from fat), Total Fat 10g, Saturated Fat 6g, Cholesterol 45mg, Carbohydrate 44g, Protein 18g, Sodium 580mg, Fiber 4g

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Bullfrog Who Wouldn’t Quit

Ah, dear reader, you’ve returned once again to join me, Sir Whiskerton, in another delightfully absurd adventure! Today’s tale involves a most peculiar visitor to the farm—a bullfrog named Leonardo. Now, bullfrogs, as you may know, are not typically the type to seek gainful employment, but Leonardo was no ordinary bullfrog. He arrived with big ambitions, a booming voice, and a refusal to take “no” for an answer. What followed was a series of hilariously chaotic events that had the entire farm in stitches… and left me questioning my ability to manage such unique personalities. So settle in for the ribbit-ing (pun intended) tale of The Bullfrog Who Wouldn’t Quit.

The Arrival of Leonardo

It all began on a muggy summer morning. The sun was just rising over the barnyard, and I was enjoying a quiet moment by the pond when I heard a deep, resonant ribbit.

“Excuse me, good sir!” came a loud, booming voice.

I turned to see a plump bullfrog perched on a lily pad, adjusting a tiny bow tie around his neck.

“I am Leonardo,” he said, puffing out his chest. “And I am here to offer my services.”

“Services?” I said, raising an eyebrow. “What kind of services?”

“Anything you need!” Leonardo declared, leaping dramatically onto the bank. “I’m a versatile bullfrog, you see. Need a singer? I have the voice of an angel. Need a gardener? These legs are perfect for digging. Need a security guard? My croak is guaranteed to scare off intruders!”

I stared at him, unsure whether to laugh or admire his enthusiasm. “Leonardo, this is a farm. We don’t exactly hire bullfrogs.”

“Nonsense!” Leonardo said, waving a webbed hand dismissively. “Every operation can benefit from a bullfrog of my caliber. Just give me a chance, and I’ll prove my worth!”

The First Job: Singing with Ferdinand

Unable to resist Leonardo’s determination, I decided to put him to the test. “Very well,” I said. “If you’re such a talented singer, why don’t you join Ferdinand the duck for a duet? He’s the farm’s resident performer.”

“Ah, a fellow artist!” Leonardo said, beaming. “Lead the way, my feline friend.”

We found Ferdinand by the pond, practicing his usual repertoire of quacks.

“Ferdinand,” I said, “this is Leonardo. He’d like to join you for a duet.”

“A duet?” Ferdinand said, narrowing his eyes. “With him?”

“Trust me, Ferdinand,” Leonardo said, straightening his bow tie. “You’ll be honored to share the stage with me.”

The two began their performance, and it was… well, let’s just say it was unique. Ferdinand unleashed his signature “quack, quack, quaaaaaaack,” while Leonardo belted out a deep, guttural ribbit that sounded like a tuba being dropped down a well.

The farm animals gathered around, their reactions ranging from amused to horrified.

“Oh, Ferdinand! Oh, Leonardo!” Doris the hen clucked. “Such… passion!”
“Passion! But also so loud!” Harriet added.
“Loud! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched.

By the time they finished, Ferdinand looked thoroughly unimpressed. “I’m sorry, Leonardo,” he said, “but our styles are… incompatible.”

“Pfft, amateurs,” Leonardo muttered as he hopped away. “On to the next job!”

The Second Job: Gardening with Porkchop

Next, I decided to let Leonardo help Porkchop in the garden. “Leonardo,” I said, “if you’re as good at digging as you claim, why don’t you help Porkchop plant some vegetables?”

“Digging? Ha! Child’s play,” Leonardo said, cracking his webbed fingers.

Porkchop, always cheerful, was happy to have help. “Alright, buddy,” he said, handing Leonardo a small trowel. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Leonardo, however, had his own ideas. “A trowel? Please. Watch and learn.”

With a dramatic leap, Leonardo began furiously kicking dirt with his powerful legs. Within seconds, he had created a hole so deep that Porkchop’s snout disappeared when he waddled over to inspect it.

“Uh, Leonardo,” Porkchop said, “we’re planting carrots, not building an underground bunker.”

“Nonsense!” Leonardo said, still digging. “The deeper, the better! These carrots will grow to be the size of tree trunks!”

By the time I arrived to check on their progress, the garden looked like a battlefield. Dirt was everywhere, and poor Porkchop was covered head to hoof in mud.

“Leonardo,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose, “perhaps gardening isn’t your calling.”

“Fine,” Leonardo said, dusting himself off. “Next!”

The Third Job: Security with Rufus

Determined to find a place for Leonardo, I decided to test his claim about being a good security guard. “Leonardo,” I said, “why don’t you help Rufus keep watch near the barn? We could use an extra set of eyes.”

“A brilliant idea!” Leonardo said, puffing out his chest. “No intruder shall pass on my watch!”

Rufus, ever the loyal farm dog, was skeptical but agreed to give Leonardo a chance. The two took up positions near the barn, scanning the horizon for anything suspicious.

For a while, all was quiet—until a butterfly fluttered by.

“INTRUDER!” Leonardo bellowed, leaping into action. He chased the butterfly with such vigor that he knocked over a pile of hay, startled the hens, and sent Rufus into a barking frenzy.

By the time the chaos settled, the barnyard looked like it had been hit by a small tornado.

“Leonardo,” I said, trying to remain calm, “that was a butterfly.”

“Yes, but it could have been a spy,” Leonardo said, standing proudly. “You can never be too careful.”

The Revelation

After a long day of failed jobs, Leonardo sat by the pond, looking dejected. “I just wanted to be useful,” he said, his booming voice now soft. “I thought I could make a difference.”

I sighed and sat down beside him. “Leonardo, you’ve got a lot of enthusiasm, but maybe you’re trying too hard. Sometimes, the best way to help is just to be yourself.”

“Be myself?” Leonardo said, tilting his head.

“Yes,” I said. “You’re a bullfrog. You’re already great at being a bullfrog. Why not focus on what you do best?”

Leonardo thought for a moment, then smiled. “You’re right, Whiskerton. I don’t need a fancy job to be important. I’m going to be the best bullfrog this farm has ever seen!”

And with that, he hopped back into the pond, where he spent the rest of the evening croaking happily.

The Moral of the Story

The next morning, the farm was back to its usual peaceful rhythm. And while Leonardo’s job hunt had caused its fair share of chaos, it also brought plenty of laughs and a reminder that everyone has their own unique talents.

The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: you don’t need to change who you are to make a difference. Sometimes, just being yourself is more than enough.

As for Leonardo? He still lives by the pond, where he’s become the farm’s unofficial mascot. And while he no longer chases butterflies or digs bunkers, his larger-than-life personality ensures there’s never a dull moment.

The End.

My First Time in Europe (Safety, Food, Infrastructure, vs USA)

First impressions are very good and instructive.

Has Queen Elizabeth II ever visited a commoner at home?

Not at home but stay with me. Many years ago the Queen was travelling down from Scotland down the A1. The weather turned very bad with a severe snowstorm. Her driver stopped at a local pub. A few hardy Northumbrians were having a few pints. Her team asked if the Queen could shelter inside.

The weather didn’t improve and the landlord offered Her Maj his room but she said she was wasn’t kicking out of his room. She asked if they had a spare. He had a small single ‘junk room’. She said that would be fine. He went to make the bed up, but she said she could manage that herself.

He rustled up a full English breakfast for her the following morning and she went on her way. About a week later he received a hand written letter off the Queen herself, thanking him for his hospitality. 40 years later it’s now framed and still has pride of place behind the bar.

What is the future of the Internet?

It will get so bad people stop using it.

There once was a time when people believed the internet would be all about sharing knowledge, making the world a better place, that kind of thing.

Sexy singles in my area want to fuck me, I won a prize for being the millionth visitor, and a Nigerian prince wants to transfer his wealth to me?

What more could anyone ask for?

The light at the end of the tunnel turned out to be an incoming train.

Scammers, spammers, bots, liars, malware, viruses, snakeoil salesmen, propaganda, Trojan horses and clickbait.

And it’s only getting worse.

Some of the brightest minds on the planet spend their days working to make apps and websites more and more addictive.

The research is scientific and methodical, backed up by huge amounts of data.

As the toxicity of the apps and websites increases, so will the reactions.

You probably tell your kids not to try heroin, not to follow the stranger who is promising free candy, and so on.

It will get to a point where visiting a website will have the same potential for addiction as trying heroin.

What will we tell our kids then?

Just avoid it, just ignore it, it’s all lies.

Don’t even install that casino app that is offering you free money if you sign up.

Don’t follow the clickbait that promises to distract you from your actual life.

You will just get hooked into some endless doomscrolling spiral interlaced with ads.

Pepe Escobar: Massive Backfire: Trump’s Trade War Ends in Surrender to China

Pepe Escobar is back in Hong Kong, and is being interviewed about the “Trump Trade War”. Throw away your TV, and all the Western “news” outlets. This is as REAL as it gets. 

Pepe is down and dirty and speaking real truth about what is going on RIGHT NOW regarding China; BRICS+, Russia and Geo-Politics.

-MM

Well worth your time to watch (or listen). -MM

My daughter’s kiddie smart watch-communicator fashion raging though China

Here in China, all the kids (say elementary into Middle School wear a smart watch. This watch is a parental tracking device and personal communicator. It has games, movie and picture capability and a host of other features. But all the kids have it.

My daughter has it.

She makes a friend. she bumps her watch with her new friend’s watch and boom! they are both connected. The information exchange is immediate.

Which is really cool. Of course, we can track her location in real time, but the main problem is that she cannot bring it into school, or that it must stay in her backpack.

But I think that it is a really cool thing, and her data and phone plan is siphoned off one of ours so it is no big deal for all of us to use.

What is amazing to me is that this is a THING.

I was surprised with how many friends that she has in her contacts. Jeeze!

All the kids have this.

Oh sure there are a couple of versions, and a couple of makes and models but the one that everyone around us (locally popular) is BRAND THAT YOU all probably never heard of. Eh. Whatever…

It’s how things change.

Life.

Today…

Why has it gotten so difficult to find a primary care physician in the US?

We all quit.

I quit in July 2024. It is no longer morally or financially reasonable to work as a PCP. They do not pay us for at least 1/3 of our working hours, our pay scale is less than our kids’ entry level jobs out of college, we have no life, they stole our autonomy and force us to do unethical things. Anyone who can afford to quit has left already.They take advantage of our moral compass and the fact that we sre iltimately liable for anything that goes wrong and then they screw us. They know we will work until midnight to prevent “the bad things” so they use our sense of responsibility against us. That is a nope.

They will replace us with NPs because they order more tests and do more referrals. This generates a ton of revenue for the system. Plus you can tell them what to do and pay them even less. They recruit new specialists by talking about a “rich referral network” where we are told where to refer our patients. We must justify our decision to refer anywhere else.

I trained for 27 years plus another 2 years of training on practice track. I went to top ten programs. I have multiple degrees and two board certifications as well as additional masters training. Screw that. I refuse to be their hey boy. The only ethical practice is concierge. Find a concierge if you can.

I have not had a physical for about 9 years and I do not have a doctor. Screw all of that BS. I will pay for what I want.

Most of us are done. I now only work addiction medicine at a non profit.

Better start reading up on healthcare. I have zero faith that healthcare will be there for me when I need it. That is why it is important to have a doc or nurse in the family. Good luck with that!

I hope I don’t sound bitter or cynical. I mean—I am—but I am trying to convey this information neutrally.

Pepe Escobar: Massive Backfire: Trump’s Trade War Ends in Surrender to China

Must watch!

Keep in mind that this just came out. Pepe is in HK not too far from me right now.

"The mood in China is defiant, and resistant!"

Everyone in China are making fun of Americans. It’s brutal.

…

What did someone say/do that made you close down your account and go to another bank?

Twenty-five years ago at a Canadian bank I took a jar of coins in to deposit into my account. My previous bank in America would dump my change into a coin counter and credit my account. They DIDN’T want coins rolled to prevent fraud. Not the Canadian Bank. I didn’t know that.

The teller was exceptionally rude. She snarked at me, “Did you think I was going to count it right her? You have to roll it.”

I shot back with, “You don’t have a coin counter?”

“Not here we don’t,” she barked. When I asked for tubes for the coins she said I’d have to buy them Canadian Tire.

I left pissed off. I stopped at a President Choice branch in Zehrs and asked about exchanging my coins for bills. I didn’t have an account with PC, but I was willing to pay a fee if I needed. Nope, no machine, but, the teller said, “I’ve got tubes here. I’ll help you roll them.” I was gobsmacked. I told her I’d do it at home if she could give me the tubes and come back tomorrow. Nope. She insisted. By the time we were done with the sorting and counting I had opened a checking account at my new bank.

The next day I went to my soon-to-be former bank to close my accounts. The teller I dealt with this time insisted I explain why I was closing my accounts. It wasn’t a polite “I’m sorry we couldn’t meet your needs,” or “How could we have served you better?”.

Me: “I want to close these accounts.”

Teller: “Why?”

M: “I beg your pardon.”

T: “We need to know why to close your account.”

I was livid by this point. I told her this bank has terrible customer support, the tellers all act like they’re doing the customer a favor just by showing up, and it’s my bloody money and I don’t need their permission to take it from their bank and go to the competition. The rest of that transaction was done in silence.

If Your Cat Takes Your Seat, They’re Trying to Tell You This…

What is the strangest complaint you have received at your job?

I got a complaint from a lady (I use the term loosely) that “The whole road was flooded outside her house”. I informed her that I was just about to leave for an inspection tour of several surrounding villages, and would call and look at the problem. I had a quick look on our mapping system, and saw that there was a trapped gully outside her house.

I drove to the village, and there was indeed water up to the white line delineating the midpoint of the road. I parked my car and got my spade from the boot, dragging it along the road surface, next to the kerb, to find the gully.

Once my spade dropped a little, I knew that was where the gully was. It was directly under a tree. I dragged my spade over the gully a couple of times, and dislodged the leaves that were lying flat over the gully. After that, it was like watching a bath drain, complete with a little whirlpool, over the gully. Within two or three minutes the water had drained completely from the road, and I took the precaution of shovelling some of the large leaves onto the grass behind the footway, to prevent further problems.

By the time I got back to the office, I hsd an email from her, copied to my boss, and another from him, asking to see my reply before I sent it, complaining that I had scraped leaves onto her grass! I went and saw my boss, and explained what I had done. He agreed with my proposed e-mail, which I then sent. I pointed out that the grass I had put the leaves on was part of the public highway, even if she did mow it, and that the leaves were from her tree, but I would not, on this occaision, send her a bill for my time spent clearing her leaves from the public highway, and suggested in future that she should sweep up the leaves and compost them, as allowing them to fall on the Highway and cause a public hazard, was contrary to section nnn of the Highways Act 1980.

We got no further complaints from her…

Heavenly Peanut Butter Pie

Ingredients

1 (8 ounce) package cream cheese, softened
1 cup peanut butter (creamy or crunchy)
1 cup powdered sugar
1 (8 ounce) container frozen whipped topping, thawed
1 (6 ounce or 9 inch) prepared graham cracker pie crust

Instructions

In large bowl, beat cream cheese until fluffy.
Beat in peanut butter and sugar.
Fold in whipped topping; spoon into crust.
Refrigerate until chilled, at least 5 hours.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

~Other Worlds~

Submitted into Contest #283 in response to: Write a story that ends with a huge twist.… view prompt

Jim Parker

~ Other Worlds ~

Wisty removed her prosthetic hand and placed it on the seat. She had it on for the last two days and it was wearing on her. Then turned to Shewuma and asked, “So. Chieftess?”

Wu hopped up next to her and sat cross-legged. “My father was chief, and my twin brother and I were his only children. But we had the sacred lineage and were turned. We both had to give it up.”

“Do you regret it?”

Wu thought about her life and smiled. “No, not at all. I had Enoch. Now I have Debbie and Jimmy and David E. and Tippycat and the rest of the family. And now I have you. Do you regret being a witch?”

Wisty sat up straight. “No. I can’t regret doing what I was born to do.”

“Bingo,” Shewuma responded.

“How did you meet Jimmy and Debbie?”

Wu grinned and patted Wisty’s arm. “You’re going to love this story. Then you can tell me all about how Jimmy and Debbie are on their way to save the world. I miss them so much.” The stolen school bus of Hopi Indian Spirit Warriors and Wisty the witch drove through the night followed by David E. and the Wolf in Wisty’s Dodge Dart, while Wisty and Wu got to know each other. Whew! What a day. What a year. They were on a long and treacherous road, but things were finally coming together. Today life was good. They only stopped once at a rest area as dawn was breaking so everyone could pee.

Luce parked the bus in Corrine’s driveway right behind David E. and Wolf in the dodge. She pulled the lever to open the side doors just as David E. walked up accompanied by Wolf.

“Wolf!” hollered Wu.

He stuck his head in. “Yes, Chieftess.”

“This forest is teeming with game. Go get us a deer or a feral hog. Be discreet. There’s a Trans Am by the barn. My bow is in the trunk. Spare keys inside the gas tank flap. Take one hind leg and give it to Daniel and Corrine the owners, and we’ll eat the rest. Luce.”

“Yes, Chieftess.”

“There are chickens out back. Gather the eggs. Find the kitchen and I’ll meet you there to make some food.” Then she stood up facing the back of the bus and addressed her crew of Hopi Kachinas. “The house is big inside and there’s a barn and a shed out back. The Eagle will help everyone get settled. We may be here for a few days. We’re near Choctaw land, so everyone be respectful. And when ….” Wu stopped talking and was peering through the windshield.

David E. stopped his doting on Wisty and looked to see what was up. Daniel was running across the yard toward the bus. His face was somber. Wu could already smell his anxiety. “Something’s wrong,” said Wu and ran out to meet him.

When she reached him, he said, “It’s Dermott.”

Wu cut him off. “Where?”

“The loft.” In a blur she was gone.

David E. and Wisty came up and asked Daniel what was wrong. They turned and hurried to the house. “It’s Dermott. We found him. He’s bad. It’s like he’s sick and he’s unconscious.”

Wisty broke into a trot. “Let’s hurry!” David E. brought up the rear, limping as fast as his cane would take him.

Wisty entered the loft and saw Dermott on the loveseat in a fetal position. He was pale, shaking, and unconscious. Shewuma hovered over him, checking his temperature and trying to bring him around.

Corrine stood by, hands clasped and lips moving. Wisty realized she was praying. She asked Corrine, “What happened?”

Corrine was clearly shaken as she related the events of the past hour. “Dermott had been remote viewing Jimmy and Debbie all morning, keeping an eye on them. I was in the kitchen when Dermott called my name. I said, ‘What?’ Then he screamed. It sounded excruciating. It made my skin crawl. Daniel and I ran up the stairs and he was on the floor squirming and rolling back and forth. He seemed in agony. Then he just curled up. We put him on the loveseat. Daniel has been trying to call you guys since it happened. I’ve been here with him the whole time. I was about to call 911.”

Shewuma said, “911 can’t help him.”

“Yes,” Wisty agreed. “I don’t think it’s physical either.”

Corrine choked up and lost her train of thought. Daniel put his arm around her and continued, “The dogs all started barking so I went outside and saw you guys driving up.”

Wu checked Dermott’s pulse. “How long ago did this happen?”

“About a half hour ago. Maybe more,” said Daniel.

Wisty pulled up his “Hitman” T-shirt and put two fingers on his third chakra near the solar plexus. As soon as Wisty touched his skin, she snatched her hand back as if receiving an electric shock. “Shewuma, he’s under psychic attack. There’s not much time.” Wisty spun the office chair around and sat down. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she slumped down as if instantly falling asleep.

“Psychic attack?” asked Corrine.

Wu set her jaw. Her mind was racing as she explained. “Someone is trying to kill his soul.”

“Kill his soul,” Corrine softly repeated to herself.

Shewuma ran to the railing. “LUCE!”

Luce stepped out of the kitchen. “I’m here, Chieftess.”

“I need the Eagle. Now! Stay with Corrine and help her with this boy.”

“Yes, Chieftess,” and she ran to the back door.

Wu wanted the Eagle there. Besides his Kachina training, the Eagle was a gifted medicine man and had worked extensively with Mystic Devas in Northern Asia. He could be of great value in such a potentially dangerous situation. She turned to Daniel. “In my closet is a plastic trash can of different plants. Are you familiar with Mugwort?”

“No. What does it look like?”

“Never mind. Just bring it all. Spread it around him. Understand? Just spread it on the floor. GO!” And he went. Mugwort was used by witches for its protection and healing properties. In psychic warfare, any edge could mean the difference. “Corrine,” she said as she took her by the shoulders to get her full attention, “I need your nurse training now.”

Corrine shook out the cobwebs and steeled herself. “What? Anything.”

Shewuma wrapped her arms around herself, let out a deep breath, and said, “Don’t let him die.” Then she collapsed to the floor on her knees.

Wisty had never left her body so quickly and felt disoriented. But the globules of light dancing on her skin and the glistening hands flexing at the end of her arms told her she was in her etheric body. The twinkling astral landscape was empty. Somehow she was alone on this plane. She pictured Dermott in her mind and willed herself to his presence. But nothing happened. She spoke his name and said a spell to bring his soul to her. It too was unsuccessful. Even in otherworldly planes there was a natural order and rules of governance. There had to be powerful forces at work to suspend the natural law of her magiks. She wondered how she could find him. Then an idea came to her. Willing an opening of a portal to the physical world, she passed through it into the loft at Corrine’s house. In this state she would be invisible to them. But no matter. It was Dermott she wanted. On the floor sitting back on her heels, Shewuma was in a trance. There were stems and leaves scattered around the floor. It smelled familiar. Of course. Mugwort. Good thinking, Shewuma. Wisty felt its properties enhancing her psychic defenses. Then she saw Corrine and Luce performing CPR on Dermott’s now lifeless body. Time was short and she couldn’t afford to get rattled, so she buried her emotions and remained focused. There was one sure way to find him. She searched for the Sutratma, or life thread. It connected his physical body to his lifeforce in the astral world. Instead of a silvery gleaming cord flowing from his midsection, she found a black brittle fiber pulling violently at his abdomen and extending through a dark hole. That was her best chance. Wisty took hold of the corrupted lifeline and followed it into the blackness. Descending, always descending into the lowest depths of the astral planes. It was not safe this deep even for someone with her knowledge and experience. Many an astral traveler had ventured too far into the lowest realms only to be possessed, driven mad, or lost forever. There was a faint light in the distance. As she came closer, she could see it was Dermott. For the first time in all her considerable experience of astral projecting, Wisty was afraid. Dermott was being attacked by a group of what she called astral wildlife. Nasty creatures of the lower realms whose sole purpose was to savage or steal the life force of others. But this scenario was impossible. Astral vermin hated each other as much as they hated everything else. They would attack anything on sight, even their own kind. Yet these monsters were working together. Ugly, harpy beasts tore at his astral flesh and sucked at his soul while rat-like parasites had severed his life cord and gnawed at the remains that trailed from him. His physical body was dead now and his soul would soon be lost as well, floating through this accursed place until it was consumed entirely. She visualized herself surrounded by love and light, building a psychic shield, and went to him. The vermin seemed appalled by her presence, but they were not repelled by her defensive sphere as she expected. Dermott’s eyes were wild and pleading for help. She grabbed a harpy that had its claws sunk deep in Dermott’s shoulder. They were small but powerful beings. Finally wrenching it loose, she hurled it into the darkness, then wrapped her arms around Dermott’s neck and held on desperately. To let go would be the end of his existence. Kicking at the vermin had little effect and she didn’t know how else to fight them. Soon the harpies were attacking her as well, ripping at her astral flesh and stealing bits of her lifeforce. The rats left Dermott and moved on to her life thread. Her silver cord turned gray and began to splinter as the parasites viciously gnawed at it with their grating teeth. There was a chance, but it was a longshot and very dangerous. Besides, she needed her arms to do it and to let go of Dermott would be his end. She had grown weak and was losing focus. Thinking of David E., she called his name out loud.

Just as all seemed lost, one of the harpies screeched a hellish noise and his body burst into flames. Then it dissipated into nothing. Wisty looked up and in the distance like a glorious angel, Shewuma approached, shining with a golden sheen. In her left hand she held a bow of white light. She fired a rapid succession of blinding arrows until all the astral atrocities were ended. Wisty’s strength was spent, and her life thread was now a piece of frayed string.

“Hold on. I’m coming.” Shewuma said to her mind. But Shewuma wasn’t going to make it. They both heard it. A vociferous rumbling buzz rolled through the darkness, filling them with dread. Shewuma could see it now. A horde of evil astral beings. Thousands of negative entities approaching them like a demonic wave. They were called Negs in Kachina lore. Shewuma spent many years training to navigate other worldly realms, deal with spirit entities, defend herself psychically, and fight Negs in the astral world. But this was beyond anything she was ever taught. She knew she couldn’t possibly win. There were too many. But they would pay a heavy price. The bow in her left hand and the arrow in her right hand both became flaming swords. “Keep your faith,” she said out loud and spoke a Hopi prayer of bravery. Then a bubble of light came from above and into the horde. The Negs began to scatter and shift erratically. It moved through them like a shooting star heading straight for Shewuma. It was the Eagle. Shewuma could see him now. The Negs had reformed and were bearing down on them. The Eagle reached her side, but there was no time to make it to the floating remains of Wisty and Dermott. They turned and braced to face the black army together. Perhaps by some miracle they could slow them enough to allow Wisty to escape if she were still able. The two looked at each other. Speaking in their native tongue, Shewuma began the song of strength. “Spirits of the light and sky, hear us. I am Shewuma.”

“I am Nuuakhwahu.”

Then they spoke in unison. “We are Holy Warriors. We are Kachinas of the Hopi nation. We are Star Children of the Realm of Man. Help us die well.” Shewuma bowed her head to this noble warrior that she had called to his death.

With a wink and a hint of a smile, the Eagle said to her, “You’re going to love this, Chieftess. A little something I picked up in Tibet.” He began to grow. Ten times, a hundred times bigger.

Together they screamed the Hopi War Cry and met the horde.

Like jumping naked into the snow, the powerful War Cry brought Wisty to consciousness. She watched the Neg army envelop the brave Kachinas. They fought for her and Dermott, and they would die for her and Dermott. Shewuma battled ferociously but was disappearing under sheer numbers. Even with the massive death toll from the Eagle with his colossal size, he was steadily being ripped apart.

A voice deep inside told Wisty she had to do something. She wrapped her legs around Dermott’s waist and locked her feet. Then she held her arms out while visualizing an amethyst knife held by both hands pointing at her chest, and it was so. She had never done this spell before. It was said that none who tried had survived. “Oh well,” she thought. “Nothing ventured.” She spoke out loud with resolve:

Our life is spent, our time has come.

Back to the place that we are from.

I call upon the Powers That Be.

This is my will So mote it be!

She plunged the knife into her chest.

There was a thunderous clap, and in that instant they all woke up back in the loft in their own bodies. Shewuma went to her feet unsteadily. The Eagle was on his knees trying to get his bearings. “Daniel, please help him,” said Shewuma. Corrine and Luce were doing CPR on Dermott’s body. Corrine looked worn out. Shewuma turned to Wisty and called her name. Wisty murmured something unintelligible. Wu slapped her across the face and yelled, “WISTY!”

Wisty opened her eyes, grateful to be alive. “Wu?” She tried to get up and Wu had to keep her from falling over.

“What about Dermott?”

Wisty patted her chest. “I have him here.”

Wu carried her over to the loveseat. “Let her in, guys. You did a hell of a job.” Corrine sat down on the floor exhausted while Luce went to help the Eagle. Ignoring decorum, Wisty pulled her dress up to her waist and straddled Dermott. She pressed against both of his temples while breathing in deeply. Glancing to her right she saw Shewuma watching her intently as she recited a Hopi prayer.

Wisty said, “Here goes.” Wu nodded encouragement. Wisty put her mouth on Dermott’s mouth and willed her soul to breathe. Dermott’s lips began to sparkle and color poured back into his face. His eyes opened. He lurched upward, arching his back and bucking Wisty off the loveseat. Wu caught her midair and sat her down. “Nice reflexes. Thanks.”

Wu pulled her in for a hug. “You did it.”

Holding onto Wu’s neck she said, “We did it, Shewuma. You two saved our lives. Thank you.”

Corrine lay back on the floor and smiled. She was pooped.

Luce leaned over Dermott, cocking her head. He was saying something to her. “Chieftess!” Luce called out in alarm.

“Everyone quiet,” ordered Wu, and she was at Dermott’s side. He grabbed Wu’s arm and struggled to tell her something. “Luce, get Dermott some water.” Wu said it calmly, but her eyes were smoldering. She stroked his head gently. “Tell me everything.”

His voice was raspy and faint. “Jimmy and Debbie. They’re going to die. It’s a trap.”

Donald Trump said he is open to use military force to annex Greenland. What do Danish people think?

Donald Trump is so stupid that he reveals the game constantly, which is rather refreshing. In my opinion the US dominates Europe anyway, and politicians are rarely able to do things which isn’t to the US liking. Traditionally, this is done through the awesome American intelligence services, manipulation, economic pressure and cultural imperialism. These are all soft approaches, sophisticated and has a long track record of actually working. But why use veiled threats and intelligence, when you can just outright threaten people? What an era of mask-off moments, where the true power relationships are revealed.

main qimg 04e393b4144b57a149c6657a54941468

Future New Gettysburg

The USA will not use military force to annex Greenland, because they don’t need to. What the USA wants is all our natural resources as well as certain measure to be taken to strengthen their own security position.

First of all, the USA wants the undersea cables that goes via Greenland to be protected, and what do you know, suddenly local politicians from Greenland (Kuno Fencker) are suggesting Denmark does more to protect this critical infrastructure.

Secondly, the USA wants the resources, and you’ll probably see that development of Greenland for mineral extraction will happen, and guess what, the people who will get the rights to that, will randomly and through fair and transparent selection processes end up being American corporations, with extremely favorable tax conditions. Vivian Motzfeldt (Greenland Social Democrat and political ally of the Danish prime minister) already said Greenland is open for mineral exploitation with US companies. What an interesting an unrelated opinion to suddenly have.

These things will happen either way, if the USA really want total control over Greenland, what we will do is simply hold an independence vote in Greenland, they will declare themselves sovereign, the US corporations will buy literally everything, and dominate Greenland absolutely, potentially for the price of merely enriching the tiny local population in exchange for all the wealth of Greenland’s natural resources.

If America wants to expand its empire, don’t you worry, our politicians are always ready to bend over, I am just glad that we can stop pretending that isn’t what is happening.

Struggling in the USA | Is Leaving America the Solution to the Cost of Living Crisis?

Is there any way to change China without going to war with them/sanctioning them? Could there be a way to SOMEHOW get the Chinese to overthrow the CCP/CPC/Xi Jinping?

Why on earth would we do that? China is the greatest economic success story in human history.

The Chinese are very proud of their country’s progress. They fully support their government.

China is a peaceful trading nation. Unlike the USA, China has fought no wars since 1979.

China’s BRI is helping over 150 countries to develop. They are very grateful for China’s assistance.

China will change and adapt as needed.

Would make great Tee-Shirt designs

You betya.

What if Russia tried to invade China with nukes?

This incident truly occurred in history. In the 1960s, the Soviets, with an air of superiority, demanded that China submit to Soviet leadership and even attempted to establish a joint fleet and long-wave radar stations on Chinese soil. Faced with this “insult to intelligence,” Chairman Mao had a “deep discussion” with Khrushchev in a swimming pool in Beijing (Khrushchev, of course, couldn’t swim).

Soon after, Sino-Soviet relations deteriorated completely. The Soviet Union deployed over a million troops along the Sino-Soviet border and even threatened to launch a nuclear strike on China.

Mao’s response was firm: if the Soviets launched a nuclear attack on China, the Chinese people would unite and attack the Soviet border, cutting off the Soviet Far East railway, advancing into Siberia, Central Asia, and the area west of the Ural Mountains, including the region west of Yekaterinburg. A new China would be rebuilt on Soviet land. At the same time, to prevent the U.S. from taking advantage of the Sino-Soviet conflict, China would target American military bases in the Far East with hydrogen bombs.

In terms of execution, China planned to use front-line troops from Xinjiang, Northeast China, and Inner Mongolia as the first strike force; troops from North China, Gansu, and regions north of the Yellow River as the second strike force; and forces from Southern China, including Sichuan, Yunnan, Guizhou, and Guangxi, as the third echelon, heavily investing in the construction of uranium enrichment plants, heavy water plants, and munitions factories as core resistance bases.

Even today, the military hub of Chongqing, famous for its hot pot, still has many “air-raid shelter hotpot restaurants.” The mountains in Chongqing have been almost hollowed out, and many of the shelters are built to nuclear fallout shelter standards. In fact, many air-raid shelters in China are constructed this way.

At this moment, the “smart” Vietnamese chose to sign an alliance with the Soviets at this sensitive time. As a result, the Vietnamese were beaten by the Chinese. This is the price “the smart ones” have to pay for trying to profit in the “great power game,” with the Vietnamese paying that price.

Later, Brezhnev, who had gained nothing from his dealings with China, in a fit of impotent rage, chose to invade Afghanistan.

This gave the Americans an opportunity. The U.S. purchased weapons from China, which were then sent through Pakistan to Afghan guerillas, burying Soviet soldiers in the Afghan battlefield and causing the Soviets to pay a heavy price.

The Soviets seemed to have forgotten one thing: any country or nation that dares to negotiate with China from a position of superiority, threatening China with its power, is doomed to failure.

In 5,000 years of Chinese history, there has been no exception.

During the conversation between China’s foreign ministry representatives and U.S. Secretary of State Antony Blinken in Alaska, Yang Jiechi clearly told the Americans: The U.S. has no right to “talk from a position of strength” with the Chinese. If you want a meaningful conversation, both sides must engage with an attitude of equality and mutual respect.

Otherwise… you know, the humiliation from China could ruin your career.

The Chinese people never feared the nuclear threat from General of the Army Douglas MacArthur even when we didn’t have nuclear weapons. We could chase you all the way to your home and take you down even with just grenades!

Who do you think you are? What makes you think you’re so important?

In America, It’s Better to be Poor

I was born in the United States. My mother was a third-generation natural born citizen and my father was an emigrant from the Anglosphere. My only connections abroad are through Quora, and I live in the poorest Congressional district in the United States. I write this essay not regarding sour grapes but regarding improvements for honest people in America.

America, as many people realize, ran a global Ponzi scheme and willfully starved people around the world, especially in North Korea, for being poor, and supports seemingly endless Zionist terrorism, including in jihadist variants.

The more dollars one holds, the poorer one is, yet in the American system, holding more dollars increases purchasing power. As dedollarization takes hold, it will likely become impossible to emigrate without rare skills. Thus, the very real possibility of Americans vanishing into labor camps presents itself, because Americans who made it in the Ponzi scheme tend to be higher-functioning than the ones who did not, and much of the world suffered from our leaders’ behavior. That we had a difference of opinion with those leaders without succeeding under the conditions presented means that we are likely untrusted to contribute to anyone else’s system.

Honesty makes my life bearable: People don’t need much to live okay if they treat each other right. Welfare offices deny applications as a default, even when people are not exploiting the system and simply wish to work. America is a death trap, and though I hope to build a resume and leave, I realize that the increased pace of dedollarization will probably lead to my physical extermination.

Because life was unbearable for honest people in America who did not aspire to riches, the notion that America may end and the world be reborn is comforting, even if Americans who tried to lead honest, working lives find themselves eliminated under unpleasant conditions. Discomfiting is the notion that Americans who have qualifications may be able to leave and live good lives elsewhere, despite having benefited from the global Ponzi scheme: Many of us who have truly been left in the cold may never be able to work it off for a better tomorrow.

The main point of comfort, however, is that these Americans will not be allowed to run Ponzi schemes elsewhere as the rest of us vanish with the miserable world our country built. The honesty of people who were excluded from the USD Ponzi scheme by its managers is striking: The scheme was run out of Manhattan, while the poorest Congressional district in the country is the South Bronx, where I live.

As one might guess, the South Bronx has a strong working-class socialist ethic and though I wish there more things to do and more opportunities, I’d rather be bored to death than amused to death: For me, the prospect of socialist rehabilitation from capitalist unpersoning is the main hope that keeps me going, as things slowly improve.

In America, it’s better to be poor.

INVASION

Submitted into Contest #283 in response to: Write a story that ends with a huge twist.… view prompt

Charles Corkery

“How long have we been working together as a team, Val?”“Twelve years, five months, two weeks and three days. Do you want me to break it down into hours and minutes?”Paul Jones turned to his partner, an incredulous look upon his face.“Are you actually, frigging serious?’Val Thorens broke into a broad smile, his eyes never leaving the giant screen in front of him.“No, you muppet. I’m pulling your leg”.Paul, standing, strode across the small room to a filing cabinet and yanked open a drawer. Retrieving a brown, cardboard file, he opened it and perused its contents for several seconds.“July 2nd 2011. Almost twelve and a half years ago. Jeez! You’re right. How did you do that? Wait, if I check the actual time that you became my partner…”“Paul, a child of four years could work out how long we’ve been together. Why are you making such a fuss about it?”

Replacing the file, Paul turned back to his partner.

“I didn’t know. I mean I knew it was about ten, twelve years but you…you’re always so frigging precise. It’s uncanny”.

‘Hey, I might be a physicist and an astronomer but, above all else, I’m a mathematician. Numbers to me are like candy to someone like yourself”, Val glibly remarked, pointing at the almost empty, giant bag of M and Ms that lay on Paul’s work station without removing his eyes from the monitor in front of him that, to an untrained eye, appeared to display an impenetrable darkness.

“Horses for courses, my friend. How come you don’t like candy, anyhow?”

Paul resumed his seat and stared briefly at his screen, quickly becoming restless and bored.

“My parents didn’t allow it when I was younger and, as I grew older and saw the damage that sugar did to teeth, I just decided it wasn’t for me”.

“Man, I’d go crazy in this place if I didn’t have something to brighten up my shift”.

Paul looked around their work space eyeing the pristine environment that made up this lab-like habitat that was their “office”. The sterile stolidness, dominated by the two giant screens, the computerised telescopes that were their workstations and which covered the skies above the state of Delaware, only a coffee machine and the low humming refrigerator added a sense of domesticity though one of the earlier shifts had, half-heartedly, hung tinsel around the place in an effort to provide some festive cheer.

Grabbing a handful of chocolate treats, Paul leaned back in his ergonomic chair, staring idly at the ceiling, popping candy.

“Val, do you ever get bored with this job?”

“Sure. And, every time it happens, I think of the money we get paid, partner”.

Apart from the idle chitchat, the room’s silence was broken only by the incessant humming of the fridge and crackling of radio static; the latter being the communication airwaves that connected all other watch stations; one per state across the nation. Each employing two, highly trained scientists per shift in a constant, perpetual state of watchfulness upon the skies above and beyond.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right, Val. We get paid way more than if I was actually working in a lab. But, I mean, don’t you ever think that we’re kind of wasting our skills? All the years it took to get our degrees. I majored in astrophysics, for God’s sake yet, here I am just…watching a frigging screen”.

“In actual fact, if you calculate the time you spend popping candy, making endless cups of coffee and staring at the ceiling, Paul, you probably spend a minimal amount of your working hours actually watching your screen”.

“And your eyes never leave your screen, amigo. I don’t know how you do it. No wonder you need those tinted glasses of yours”.

“Well, I figure this is what the government pays us to do so, for eight hours each day, it’s my duty to oblige. Plus, after so long, it would be extremely difficult for me to drop a hundred grand per year by taking a normal lab job”.

Suddenly, Val leaned urgently forward, his eyes having discerned something on his monitor.

“One o’ clock, Paul. Check it out”.

Startled, Paul crashed down in his tilted chair, eyes returning to his own screen, a duplicate of Val’s, his hand involuntarily releasing a cascade of candy, M and Ms rolling across the metallic floor.

Both screens simultaneously arrowed in on the object identified by Val, images expanding as Paul controlled the direction of the viewfinder on the space telescope that provided them with intimate coverage of the night sky. Within seconds, Paul, among his other accomplishments, a nanotechnologist and an expert in the structure of such things, relaxed.

“Just another boring meteorite. Iron-nickel. I can tell by the regmaglypts, the irregular shaped pits. No problem, unfortunately. That’s the way the cookie crumbles”.

Later, as their shift ended, the spotting of the meteorite and its subsequent passage to Earth recorded in the log, the two men exited their work environment, the outraged cries of their shift replacements echoing in their ears as they slipped and crunched on the candy strewn floor. They grinned at each other as they unlocked their cars in the parking lot, the weak, early morning sun dazzling Paul but not bothering Val behind his dark lenses. Paul lamented.

“Another cold, miserable morning. I can’t remember the last time we had a white Christmas”.

Immediately, Val shot back.

“December 25th, 2002. 1.3 inches fell in Wilmington”.

Paul looked askance at his work partner.

“Do you make this shit up? How could you remember that?”

Saying nothing, Val simply shrugged, pulling up his collar against the chilly wind.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, you numbers freak”.

“Yes. Just two days ’til Santa comes”.

“Hey, Val, we need to organise a night out or something. Your wife and mine. Maybe in the New Year. What d’you say?”

“Yeah, definitely, we need to do that”.

As Paul climbed into his brand new Tesla, he, somehow, knew it would never happen. They had been talking about it… for twelve years, five months, two weeks and three days.

The alert came the following day: drones spotted over New Jersey. Reports varied: five, some said, six, others claimed; large, the size of cars according to a New Jersey police chief. Paul arrived for his shift in a heightened state of excitement though Val was his usual phlegmatic self.

The shift they were replacing seemed loath to leave though Delaware had, so far, not seen anything amiss. The unusual happenings in a neighbouring state were causing great excitement within the watchers’ community and the comms channels crackled with constant chatter.

“Can you believe it? Just east of us. Just our damn luck but we’ve been on full alert all day. Washington is saying they don’t know what they are. One eyewitness said they came out of the ocean”, a tired, wide-eyed watcher eagerly reported to the duo.

Alone again, the two settled in front of their screens.

“Val, d’you think this could be for real? D’you think…?”

‘Paul, I don’t believe we should take any notice of mere conjecture but, given the vicinity and its closeness to our own area of observation, I do think that we need to be extra vigilant”.

“Hey, don’t worry, pal. My eyes are never leaving my screen”.

As the night progressed, however, nothing was displayed on the monitors from the space telescope that hovered high over Delaware though, on the various frequencies that shattered the silence of their stations, they listened, enthralled, as word filtered through of several other sightings, maddeningly close to their own area of surveillance and, by shift’s end, the number of reported craft had increased steadily; Washington, despite stating that there was nothing to fear, still unable to identify their origin.

True to his word, Paul had remained watchful throughout the night, an unopened bag of Snickers testament to his attentiveness, and both men, too, were reluctant to leave their posts at the end of their shift, feeling that it was only a matter of time before Delaware, too, became embroiled in the mystery.

Fear, that normal human reaction to anything untoward that cannot be explained, spread swiftly over the ensuing hours. People who relied and depended on their government to reassure them were severely disappointed. Some brave citizens were taking ineffective pot shots at the unidentified craft as their numbers multiplied rapidly. These were not, as first reported, drones. That much was abundantly clear.

Panic followed fear and the roads were soon blocked by the vehicles of those fleeing from their homes, though where to, they did not know, but a mass exodus was taking place in New Jersey. Yet Washington did nothing to assuage concerns, either refusing to divulge the true identity of the spacecraft or simply unable to.

As Paul and Val reported for their shifts on Christmas Day, still, they learned, no sightings had been made over Delaware though New York State and Pennsylvania, both close neighbours, had now experienced numerous craft sightings. The incessant radio chatter confirmed the seriousness of the situation and the two observational physicists studied their screens intently; Paul, finally realising the importance of his chosen profession. Could the nation be under threat from space? The tension was palpable.

Then, an hour before their shift’s end, out of nowhere, an image appeared on their dual monitors; small and faint, at first, but, as it loomed closer, growing ever larger. Excitedly, Paul expertly guided the telescope remotely, zooming in, and gasping aloud as the magnification identified hundreds more craft coming into focus, following close behind the vanguard ship but only serving to accentuate the monstrous size of the lead craft.

“Holy Mother of God. Val, you see that? That’s a frigging mother ship!”

The static of the various frequencies suddenly ceased, all communication cut by some unknown, alien source. Paul, terrified, turned to his partner but Val seemed unperturbed, almost gleeful, pushing away from his work station and turning to Paul, slowly removing his glasses.

“It’s been…interesting, Paul. I’m sorry it has to end this way but, hey, that’s the way the cookie crumbles, right? Happy Christmas!”

Unable to move, Paul stared at the man he had worked alongside for so many years; a man who, after more than twelve years, he suddenly realised, he knew absolutely nothing about A man who, he registered far too late, was, in fact, not a man at all, his bulging, bright red eyes, exposed for the first time, now burning into his own, distorting his vision, the vicious heat melting his very flesh.

Have your parents ever walked in on you?

When I was courting my wife her father was the foreman in the local cemetery and the family lived in the house attached to the cemetery. There was a chapel built in the centre of the cemetery and used for funeral services. When I took my wife to be home after few drinks we would park up behind the chapel for a bit of frisky time. One night while passing the house the wife’s mother saw us but didn’t recognise the car so came out to investigate.

We had just got very comfortable in the back seats,in the dark,in a cemetery, behind a chapel, trousers round my ankles when the MIL came banging on the windows and shouting her head off. I absolutely bricked it . I swear to God I lost 20 years of my life that night.

we’ve been married for 57years now but we still have the odd giggle about that night.

What is it like to live in Phoenix, AZ?

Phoenix is the first place I lived after finishing my university studies. It was an exciting place to live for someone in their 20’s.

Pro’s:

No snow. This is a big deal as someone moving from the midwest. Nothing to clean off your car or salt to rust the body of your car.
Good Tex-Mex and Mexican food.
It’s relatively close to nice to amazing nature. Grand Canyon, Sedona, and Saguaro National Park are within a short drive.
Cool places that young people like to visit are within driving distance. Los Angeles, Las Vegas, San Diego, and parts of Mexico.
College vibe of nearby Tempe, the upscale vibe of Scottsdale, suburban vibe of Ahwatukee, or country living out past the Carefree Highway.

Cons:

There’s no snow, but the summertime heat is absolutely insane. Anything you leave in your car will die. Accidentally left your phone in your car while in a restaurant? Dead. Not to mention your cat or your toddler. Also, don’t leave your gym bag in your car if you use aerosol deodorant unless you want your car to smell like Old Spice for several months (ask me how I know).
There’s a highly transient population. People come to phoenix for work, but a lot of people won’t stay. Thus, it’s not the best place to make friends. The “local” cultural scene is somewhat lacking.
Bugs and snakes. You won’t see them everyday, but finding black widows and scorpions in your house is a little terrifying if you’re from the the Midwest. You’ll sometimes see snakes while out hiking.
Because of how insane the temperatures are, it can actually be difficult to get out and enjoy nature in the summer. People stay in their air conditioned homes, cars, and offices for the vast majority of the day in the summer. It can make the day-to-day experience of life a little boring if you can’t leave the office and go for a walk at lunchtime.
Electricity and water utilities are expensive. You’re paying to air condition your house for at least eight months a year. Phoenix is in the desert, so water is scarce, so you have to pay more for it.

(View of Phoenix from South Mountain. Photo by author).

What is the most dangerous scientific experiment ever conducted?

Did you know that ” Louis Pasteur ” discovered the cure for rabies—a disease that affects people when bitten by a dog?

There is an interesting story behind the discovery of this rabies drug.

200 years ago, there were two friends living in a small village in France. One of them was bitten by a mad dog and died after suffering greatly.

After 40 years, the boy whose friend died became a famous scientist known as “Louis Pasteur”. He did many experiments, many researches, but he still could not forget the screams of his friend who died of rabies.

He decided to study and find a cure for this disease through experiments.

He conducted an experiment where he collected mad dogs and put them in a cage. Then he would observe what was wrong with them. Some time after the experiment was conducted, he felt that the foam of saliva coming from the dogs’ mouths was suspicious.

To prove his suspicion, he collected the foam, and put it into a syringe. The syringe was then injected into healthy dogs. A few moments later, these healthy dogs were infected with rabies and eventually died.

Through further observations and experiments, he concluded that when the rabies virus reaches the brain, instant death occurs.

One day, in his laboratory, one of his infected dogs suddenly became normal and healthy.

He then used the dog’s antibodies and gave them to the infected dogs. After a while, the dogs also improved and eventually became healthy.

The experiment was successful, now it’s time to test the antibodies on humans.

But the irony is; where will he get the infected people from?

The great scientist, Louis Pasteur, decided to infect himself with rabies and inject the antibodies into himself, for the betterment of mankind.

The day was set, but ironically it turned out that on that day a mad dog had bitten a small child and they took the child to Louis Pasteur. Antibodies were given and a few days later the child was cured.

The first rabies shot was given on July 6, 1885 and became history.

History holds so many sacrifices, devotion and interesting stories of great people who sacrificed everything for the sake of humanity.

We salute them.

Thank you for reading.

Translator’s addition:

This is the impact of rabies on humans. And if the virus has reached the brain, then the person can no longer be saved. One of these cases is the video above. viewer discretion is advised

What’s the best revenge you’ve gotten after being fired or let go from a job?

In 1995 I worked for a Publishing house in Gaithersburg MD. I had worked for them for 10 years and was now a Director of the Company. During the negotiations for a large mainframe computer purchase, I was told I would be required to lie to the seller and tell them that they had agreed to include a particular subsystem “free” in the overall purchase of the system.

Now I had JUST completed the negotiation of THAT subsystem the DAY BEFORE they asked me to do this so there was NO WAY the seller was going to believe this. I informed the owners that I couldn’t do that and this began the beginning of the termination of my employment with the publishing house.

They were sure I was going to have difficulty getting a replacement job and offered me 30 days severance pay on the condition that I accept a “beeper” and be on call if they needed me until I accepted a job at another company. I accepted and required everything in writing. My last day of work was to be that Friday.

Unbeknownst to them, I had already interviewed with America Online (AOL) accepted a job, and they easily arranged for me to begin work on the following Monday. On that Monday my new boss and I put the beeper in a Courier bag emblazoned with AOL’s LOGO and sent it over to my old company. An old friend of mine in the old company said the beeper was still going off as the package was carried through the office to the owner’s desk.

I REALLY enjoyed that double-dipping last month of extra pay while I was getting paid from AOL too!

Karma says they shouldn’t have asked me to blatantly lie when it would have been so obvious…

Good thing I’d gotten my severance terms in writing too.

Macaroon Brownie Tart

Yield: 12 servings

Ingredients

1 refrigerated pie crust (from 15 ounce package), softened as directed on package
1 (8 ounce) box fudge brownie mix
3 eggs, separated
1 tablespoon water
1/2 cup semi-sweet chocolate morsels
1 package (7 ounces) sweetened flaked coconut
1/2 cup Half-and-Half
1/4 cup sliced natural almonds

Instructions

Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
Gently unfold crust onto lightly floured surface; roll to an 11 1/2 inch circle. Press into bottom and up sides of Tart Pan using Fluting Tool to create fluted edge. Prick bottom of crust; set aside.
Combine brownie mix, egg yolks and water; mix until smooth and spread over crust using Small Spreader. Sprinkle chocolate morsels over brownie mixture.
Combine egg whites, coconut and half and half; mix well. Spoon coconut mixture evenly over chocolate morsels. Sprinkle almonds around edge of coconut mixture.
Bake 40 to 45 minutes or until edge of crust is deep golden brown and center is set.
Remove from oven; cool 1 hour.
Serve slightly warm.
Slice using Nylon Slice ‘N Serve®.

Nutrition

Per serving: Calories 320, Total Fat 18g, Saturated Fat 10g, Cholesterol 60mg, Carbohydrate 36g, Protein 4g, Sodium 200mg, Fiber 2g

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Case of the Silent Rooster with Noisy Problems

Ah, dear reader, welcome back to another laugh-filled chapter in the life of yours truly, Sir Whiskerton: detective extraordinaire, farm diplomat, and all-around solver of peculiar problems. Today’s tale involves one of the most bizarre cases I’ve ever encountered, and believe me, that’s saying something. It all began when our resident rooster, Ferdinand, suddenly lost his voice. Now, you’d think a silent rooster would mean peaceful mornings, wouldn’t you? Instead, what followed was a symphony of sounds so ridiculous, it sent the entire farm into fits of laughter—and, occasionally, into hiding. Yes, this is the story of The Rooster That Lost His Voice (and Gained Something Else Entirely).

A Morning Without a Cock-a-Doodle-Doo

It was a morning like any other, or so I thought. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a warm golden glow over the farm. Normally, this would be the moment when Ferdinand, our proud and confident rooster, would unleash his signature cock-a-doodle-doo to wake up the farm. But on this morning, there was… silence.

At first, I thought I’d simply woken up early. But then, I heard it—a strange sound coming from the chicken coop. It wasn’t a crow. It wasn’t a cluck. It was a noise that can only be described as, well… a fart.

“Pfffttthhhhpppp!”

I froze mid-stretch, my ears swiveling toward the coop. “What in whiskers’ name was that?”

“Pffftttthhhpppp!” came the sound again, followed by the unmistakable voice of Doris the hen.

“Oh, Ferdinand! What is wrong with you?!”

“Wrong! But also so embarrassing!” Harriet clucked.

“Embarrassing! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched.

Sensing trouble, I leapt down from the fence and made my way to the coop, where I found Ferdinand standing in the middle of the hens, his feathers ruffled and his beak opening and closing like a broken hinge.

“Ferdinand,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “What’s going on here?”

“I don’t know!” he squawked—or at least, tried to. Instead of words, another loud, wet-sounding pffftttthhhpppp escaped him.

The hens recoiled in horror.

“Oh, the humanity!” Doris wailed.
“Humanity! But also so smelly!” Harriet clucked.
“Smelly! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched.
The Investigation Begins

After calming the hens (and assuring them that Ferdinand was not, in fact, possessed by some unholy flatulent spirit), I turned my attention to the rooster. “Alright, Ferdinand,” I said, pacing back and forth. “Tell me everything. When did this… situation start?”

“This morning!” Ferdinand said—or, rather, tried to say. Every attempted word was punctuated by another pffftttthhhpppp, spllllt, or blrrrppp. It was like his vocal cords had turned into a whoopee cushion.

I stroked my whiskers thoughtfully. “Interesting. Have you eaten anything unusual? Breathed in any strange fumes? Crossed paths with Catnip and his band of mischief-makers?”

“No! I—spllllt!—haven’t done anything out of the—blrrrppp!—ordinary!” Ferdinand said, looking thoroughly miserable.

“Well,” I said, smirking despite myself, “it seems we’ve got a real toot-and-a-half of a mystery on our paws.”

“Toot-and-a-half,” Ditto the kitten echoed, appearing out of nowhere and hopping onto my back.

“Not now, Ditto,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Not now,” Ditto repeated, grinning.

The Farm Reacts

Word of Ferdinand’s predicament spread quickly, and soon the entire farm was abuzz with gossip—and laughter.

“Oh, Ferdinand!” Porkchop the pig said, waddling over to the coop. “I didn’t know you were part of the wind section!”

“Wind section,” Ditto repeated, snickering.

“Not helping, Porkchop,” Ferdinand grumbled—or tried to. His words were drowned out by another loud pfffffttttttttthhhhhpppppp, which sent Porkchop into a fit of giggles.

Even Rufus the dog couldn’t resist a jab. “Don’t worry, Ferdinand. If the farmer ever needs a new horn for his truck, you’re a shoo-in!”

“Very funny,” Ferdinand muttered, his feathers drooping. “I’m a rooster, not a… a fart machine!”

The Funny Farm Escalates

Over the next couple of days, Ferdinand’s condition didn’t improve. If anything, it got worse. His attempts to crow were so loud and ridiculous that the farmer himself came out to investigate. Of course, Ferdinand’s ill-timed spllllt-blrrrppp-pfffttt! sent the poor man running back to the house, muttering something about “weird barnyard chili.”

Meanwhile, the hens were at their wit’s end.

“Oh, Sir Whiskerton!” Doris clucked, tears in her eyes. “You have to fix this! We can’t live like this!”

“Live like this! But also so gassy!” Harriet added.

“Gassy! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched.

“I’m working on it,” I said, though I was running out of ideas. “Ferdinand, maybe you just need rest. No talking, no crowing, no… noises. Let’s give your voice a break.”

“Voice a break,” Ditto echoed, batting at a stray feather.

A Humorous Solution

As fate would have it, the solution to Ferdinand’s problem came from the most unlikely source: Cluckster, the scraggly rooster who occasionally ran errands for Catnip. He showed up one afternoon with an old, dusty book tucked under one wing.

“Heard about Ferdinand,” Cluckster said, smirking. “Figured you might need this.”

“What is it?” I asked, eyeing the book suspiciously.

“It’s an old farmer’s remedy for roosters who lose their voices,” Cluckster said. “Supposedly, a mixture of honey, warm water, and mint leaves will fix him right up. But hey, if it doesn’t work, at least it’ll freshen his breath!”

Desperate, Ferdinand agreed to try the remedy. With the help of the farmer, we whipped up the concoction and coaxed Ferdinand into drinking it. At first, nothing happened. But then, slowly but surely, Ferdinand’s voice began to return.

The First Crow

The next morning, the farm held its breath as Ferdinand prepared to crow. He puffed out his chest, opened his beak, and…

“Cock-a-doodle-doo!” he cried, his voice strong and clear.

The entire farm erupted into cheers.

“Oh, Ferdinand!” Doris clucked. “You’re back!”
“Back! But also so normal!” Harriet added.
“Normal! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched.

“Welcome back, buddy,” Rufus said, wagging his tail. “Just promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?” Ferdinand asked.

“No more… sound effects,” Rufus said, grinning.

A Happy Ending

With his voice restored, Ferdinand returned to his role as the farm’s proud rooster. And while the memory of his noisy predicament still brought fits of laughter, it also served as a reminder of the farm’s ability to come together in times of trouble.

The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: even when life gets a little messy—or, shall we say, gassy—a little patience, teamwork, and humor can go a long way. And as for Ferdinand? He learned to appreciate his voice like never before… and to avoid anything that might make him the butt of the joke again.

Until next time, my friends.

The End.

12 Mind-Blowing Signs Your Cat Is a Genius

The end of a generation as recognized by Hollywood; the Shootist, and On Golden Pond

When I graduated from High School there seemed to be a “changing of the guard”. It was a generational change. And many of the early baby-boomers were dying off.

At that time, the United States was being ruled and run by folk that were born in the 1920s and 1930s. They had a different mindset from us kids of the 60s and 70s.

So as the one generation came to a close, we saw various signs of transformation. It started with John Wayne’s farewell… “The shootist”.

The Shootist

The Shootist was Wayne's final cinematic role, concluding a 50-year career that began during the silent film era in 1926. Wayne was not terminally ill when the film was made in 1976. He had been a heavy cigarette smoker for most of his life, and he was diagnosed with lung cancer in 1964.

Then were were many others… such as “On Golden Pond”.

Ten years later, a new crop of Baby Boomers started to retire. Key in “Rocket Gibraltar”.

In a like way we are also experiencing a massive generational shift. And with that comes a consciousness shift.

Keep awareness of the big picture and do not get too caught up in the discomfort that change brings.

Today…

Why does the U.S. not care about China’s growing military, showing no interest or care by increasing their military?

The US does care, it’s just too path-dependent.

The US is still thinking about everything as a competition or zero/sum game, trying to out-military the Chinese military, out-tech the Chinese tech, and out-economy the Chinese economy.

In the past these competitions may have worked, because the opponents were all smaller in size than the US.

These strategies are destined to failure against China, due to the simple fact that China has more than 4 times the population and that China is less developed. Just like how you can become better everyday at a new sport, but can hardly overdo yourself when you’re already the world champion, a developed nation like the US will always have less growth potential than a developing nation like China.

The correct US counter against China was what the US did in the 1990s and 2000s, by embracing China. That way, the US can grow with China with its investment and influence. It can out-military the Chinese by growing with the Chinese military, out-tech the Chinese by growing with the Chinese tech, out-economy the Chinese by growing with the Chinese economy, because the boss, or the investors, always outgrow the employees.

Ask yourself, was the US in a stronger position today or in the 1990s and 2000s, when they grew with China?

The real problem that derailed the US lead was the distribution of wealth. The US made huge amount of money growing with the Chinese economy, but they never shared that money with its people, instead wasting it in destructive wars, enriching weapon manufacturers. The US made huge technological advances growing with China, brain-draining most of China’s best talents and employing them in chip-making, a.i. and scientific research at large, yet since the first Trump administration, the US has been attacking Chinese scientists and students and calling them spies, leading to many of them returning to China, helping China advance its tech.

The US had the utmost military advantage but instead of inviting China into the alliance, like how Japan and Korea didn’t see the need to over-militarize themselves, the US military just had to antagonize China, blinding all Chinese coastal radars with its growlers in 1996, bomb Chinese embassy in 1999, and kill a Chinese navy pilot and invade Chinese airspace in 2001. Ever since then, it carries out daily incursions on China’s coast. It’s the US that forced China to view the US as a threat and grow its military to match, leading to uninmagined advances. At the turn of the century, the best domestic Chinese fighter was still basically a twin engine Mig-21 which the US helped China develop.

The US tried to use China as the bogeyman to distract its people from the domestic issues at home, to avoid the ultra-rich sharing with the American people and the world for more sustained growth. In doing so they turned China into a rival that feels overtaking the US is its only course of survival, and that makes the US ultra-rich more insecure and more kin to strong-arm the opponent, falling into this vicious cycle of self-defeat. It will take a major philosophical change in the US for it to rebound back to the winning strategy.

Spicy Tomato Fettuccine

Yield: 4 to 6 servings

Ingredients

8 ounces fettuccine, cooked
2 ounces turkey bacon
1 large onion
4 or 5 large tomatoes, peeled and seeded
2 tablespoons fresh parsley
2 teaspoons olive oil
2 garlic cloves, pressed
1 teaspoon basil
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
Parmesan cheese

Instructions

Cook pasta according to package directions. Keep warm.
Fry bacon until crisp on 11 inch griddle; drain and set aside.
Chop onions and tomatoes with food chopper.
Snip parsley using kitchen cutters.
Heat olive oil and stir-fry skillet. Press garlic with garlic press into skillet. Stir-fry 15 seconds.
Add onion. Stir-fry 2 to 3 minutes. Add tomatoes, parsley, and seasoning to skillet.
Gently stir 3 to 4 minutes until thoroughly heated.
Remove from heat and serve over pasta. Grate fresh Parmesan cheese over top.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

L.A. Wildfires Made Catastrophic by . . . UKRAINE

Hal Turner Nation January 18, 2025

Let me tell you a story about how international politics made the Los Angeles Wildfires catastrophic. How over 12,000 homes, businesses and schools burned down in California, because of . . . . UKRAINE.

All of you recall that, in the year 2014, Crimea voted to secede from Ukraine, and to go back to Russia. Many of you might be surprised that I said “go back to Russia” because you may not be aware that, for at least 300 years prior, Crimea WAS part of Russia. –

Throughout most of recorded history it was “the Russian Crimea.” But on 19 February 1954, then Soviet Leader, Nikita Kruschev, GAVE Crimea to Ukraine. So Crimea was only part of Ukraine for sixty (60) years.

It was back in 2013-2014 under the Obama Administration that NATO wanted to expand into Ukraine. Their goal was to place American Missile Defenses on Ukraine soil. By having US Missiles on Ukraine soil, those missiles could strike Moscow in about five minutes, and Russia’s Strategic Nuclear Missile silos in about ten minutes.

As you may know, Russia flatly refused to accept having such a threat on their borders. They told Ukraine “no.” They told both Europe and America “no.” But NATO was determined and they continued trying to lure Ukraine.

At the time, Ukraine’s Democratically-elected President was Viktor Yanukovich. Both the US and EU approached Yanokovich and told him, among other things, that Ukraine should move away from the Russian sphere of influence and come into the West. It would be a boost for business, would improve the lives of all Ukrainians, and so on.

But Yanukovich could not make such a massive decision on his own. He told the US and EU he needed time to talk to his fellow government representatives, his country’s business leaders, and to his people. The US and EU said they understood and asked Yanukovich to set a date-certain for his decision. A date was set.

Yanokovich went about talking to his people, his business leaders, his government people, and when that date came, Yanukovich told Europe and America “Thanks, but no thanks. Ukraine is remaining with Russia.”

That was an answer neither the US nor the EU were going to accept.

Shortly thereafter, the United States and Europe fomented, facilitated, and financed violent riots throughout Ukraine. Upwards of one million dollars a day – cash – was coming out of the US Embassy in Kiev, to bankroll the riots!

Things got so bad, so violent, that the Ukraine government collapsed. Yanukovich fled the country. Guess who was right there to bankroll a new government – one that was favorable to the West? Yep, The EU and the USA.

A puppet government was installed in Kiev. It immediately set about banning Russian anything because it was the Russian-speaking Oblasts (states) in eastern Ukraine, which had won the election for Yanukovich. The new government wanted to get rid of the Russian-speaking population in the eastern Oblasts, especially Luhansk and Donetsk.

The Russian speaking population in Crimea saw this and decided they wanted no part of the new puppet regime in Kiev. They voted to secede.

The Public Referendum was held under the watchful eye of United Nations and other election monitors. It was a completely legitimate vote. The People of Crimea voted overwhelmingly to leave Ukraine and return to Russia.

In the evening of 16 March 2014, Mikhail Malyshev, the Crimean election Spokesman, reported that as of 20:00, 1,250,427 people or 81.36% voted in the Autonomous Republic of Crimea and 274,136 or 89.50% voted in Sevastopol for a total of 1,524,563 or 82.71% of the electorate. That 82.71% voted overwhelmingly (95.5%) to secede.

The collective West recoiled in horror. They had plans to put a NATO naval base on Crimea, near Sevastopol, and Crimea leaving would foul that up. So the West called the vote illegitimate and refused to recognize it. When the Russian state legislature, the Duma, voted to accept Crimea back into Russia, the West labeled it “an illegal annexation.”

There was nothing illegal about it. Under the UN Charter, all people have a right to self-determination and the people of Crimea voted for it. They left for Russia . . . and took their land with them!

Two days later, on 18 March, 2014, Russia accepted Crimea and Sevastopol into the Russian Federation – forever.

This was a huge problem for the US, the EU, and NATO. They whined, moaned, and complained endlessly.

At this point, the puppet regime in Kiev began massing troops at Crimea, and at the borders of the eastern Oblasts of Luhansk and Donetsk. On 12 April 2014 those troops began firing artillery and mortars into the civilian areas of those two states, to drive the (Russian-speaking) people out. This was overt Ethnic Cleansing and it was actually illegal.

But the West only cites the “Rules-Based Order” when it serves their own purposes. That’s the “rub” to the whole “International Rules-Based Order” – the West makes the rules and only uses those rules when it suits the West.

Luhansk and Donetsk fielded their state militia to fight-off the attacking Ukrainians, but they needed help. They were only a state militia and they were faced with the actual Ukraine army.

ENTER Little Green Men

Shortly after Ukraine began attacking Luhansk and Donetsk, “Little Green Men” began appearing en-masse on the side of Luhansk and Donetsk. These were trained troops, with full army gear, but no flags, patches or insignia. They were Russian troops sent to help Luhansk and Donetsk. They fought Ukraine to a standstill.

By 2016, it was election time in the USA and to the absolute horror of the political class, Donald Trump defeated Hillary Clinton. Like magic, all the trouble in Ukraine just . . . stopped.

It remained stopped until ONE WEEK after Joe Biden entered the Presidency that he won through massive Ballot Fraud. At the time, the Democrats in the US used “COVID-19” as a reason to send Mail-in Ballots to even dead people, and those Ballots got voted. Trump lost the election to that FRAUD and Joe Biden became the (illegitimate) American President. ONE WEEK into his regime, the trouble in Ukraine started again.

By 2022, the actions of Ukraine, backed by the West, triggered the official entry of the Russian Army into Ukraine. Russia had no choice; if they allowed Ukraine to join NATO, it would mean American missiles on Ukraine soil with a five minute flight time to Moscow.

The West will not stop, so the Russian Army is now stopping them. By force. It is a matter of survival for Russia.

The politics surrounding this has gotten ugly, and it is THAT politics, that caused the Wildfires in Los Angeles to become catastrophic!

RUSSIAN FIRE-FIGHTING PLANES

Russia manufactures a particular fire fighting aircraft called the BE-200. It is made by a company named Beriev, and it is an amazing plane (Pictured above).

Each of the planes can haul 12 TONS of water. 12 tons is 24,000 pounds. Water weighs 8 lbs. per gallon, so that works out to be each plane carrying three-thousand (3,000) gallons per air drop.

CALIFORNIA WILDFIRES

The typical fire engine (in the USA) carries five-hundred (500) gallons of water, so each of these planes is the equivalent of six (6) fire engines, dumping their entire water load in literally seconds.

The planes can refill in . . . . get this . . . . fourteen (14) SECONDS, from a lake, a reservoir even the ocean.

They have a range of 2100 kilometers, so they can make multiple drops of 3,000 gallons of water, before they have to go refuel.

In terms of fire-fighting, these planes are “beasts.” They really get the job done fast.

From 2017-2019, the US and Russia negotiated the sale of ten Be-200 firefighting jets to California. They’d have been stationed just 200km from LA’s wildfire hotspots.

During the negotiations, someone on the US side decided to “stick-it” to Russia.

The US side demanded that the jets use Ukrainian-made D-436TP engines for the RUSSIAN fire-fighting planes. But the manufacturer of those engine, Motor Sich, wouldn’t certify them with the Federal Aviation Administration.

No certification = no deal.

That’s how the contract unraveled. No Be-200s for California.

Rostec, the Parent Company of Beriev, who makes the planes, confirmed that had the contract been signed by 2020, all ten planes would have been delivered by the year 2022. Well in advance of the recent – and still burning – California wildfires that have leveled more than 12,000 homes, businesses, and schools, killing at least 24 – so far.

Negotiators insisting on “sticking-it” to Russia, ruined the deal for California to get those Russian fire-fighting planes and as a result, there is now $250 Billion in damage to Los Angeles. All because some nitwit in government wanted to “stick it” to Russia, over Ukraine.

I am investigating who the persons are who demanded the Ukrainian Engines be substituted on those planes. When I find out who the persons were, I will name them in a future story.

It is time they get the attention they deserve.

In the meantime, all of YOU now know: The Los Angeles Wildfires couldn’t be put out because, among other things, the US Government wrecked a deal for fire-fighting planes in 2019 because they wanted to “stick-it” to Russia over Ukraine.

They could have had ten planes, equal to 6 fire trucks each plane, the water equivalent of a total of SIXTY fire trucks, flying-in and dumping thousands of gallons, refilling in 14 seconds and flying-in again to dump 3,000 more gallons.

Those fires could possibly have been knocked down in one day.

Yet California homes burned to the ground and people were killed, because some government idiot – likely in in Washington, DC wanted to “stick it” to Russia over Ukraine.

Why is anti-intellectualism prevalent and popular in the US?

This is largely a meme with little reality.

American universities lead the world in research. They spearhead great leaps in scientific, technological and philosophical developments. Students from all sorts of countries seek to study in these institutions. Along with American private and public companies like Google or NASA, they are leading the world in immense developments.

There are always going to be knuckleheads. In Britain, there are ignorant people who know absolutely nothing about the wider world, local politics or intellectual subjects. That is their right to switch off, but these type of people exist everywhere.

What makes America stand out compared to these countries is its technological and cultural prowess. Here are some products of the American intellect:

Europeans imagine themselves sitting on a pedestal of effortless intelligence and mock the so-called anti-intellectualism of Americans. They argue that there is an inherent strain of stupidity in the American soul borne from geographic isolation and democratic mannerisms.

This is an old trope about America that constantly recurs in European philosophy. It still rears itself in the contemporary European imagination. If you switch on one of the BBC’s many insufferable so-called comedies, state funded ‘funny men’ constantly make fun of America and act as if the British viewer has a natural intelligence far higher than their transatlantic counterpart.

Herman Melville, who wrote the epic nineteenth century novel Moby Dick, experienced this haughty attitude when he was a whaler. On the high seas, the American ship he helped sail was packed to the brim with whale oil after many successful and daring hunts.

There is a funny instance in the great novel when the protagonists’ whaling ship encounters a rare English whaling vessel which was characteristically empty of any loot. However, the English sailors viewed their industrious American counterparts with disdain. The Americans, whose base was located on the wild island of Nantucket in Massachusetts, was unfairly mocked.

Melville in Moby Dick Chapter 53

The English whalers sometimes affect a kind of metropolitan superiority over the American whalers; regarding the long, lean Nantucketer, with his nondescript provincialisms, as a sort of sea-peasant. But where this superiority in the English whaleman does really consist, it would be hard to say, seeing that the Yankees in one day, collectively, kill more whales than all the English, collectively, in ten years. But this is a harmless little foible in the English whale-hunters, which the Nantucketer does not take much to heart; probably, because he knows that he has a few foibles himself.

This attitude of cultural superiority by Europeans has long persisted, viewing Americans as the riffraff of their collective body. The original settlers of the American colonies who came from England and Scotland were Puritans and rough adventures with little time for the decorum of polite society.

They traversed great seas, endured hardships and experienced immense calamities. By their ingenuity, one of the greatest civilisations was raised from dirt. The French and Dutch also viewed their New World adventures with similar disdain.

There is a great moment on HBO’s miniseries John Adams that reveals this attitude of superiority during his era. In these scenes, John Adam goes to France as America’s ambassador, but he is shocked and mesmerised by the unnecessary refinements of this wealthy society when compared with his own hardier and far simpler frontier country.

Adams speaks very little French and in an embarrassing scene after he arrives into the sophisticated metropole of Paris, he is laughed at by the French king. Marching into the Palace of Versailles, around him stand the white powdered fineries of civilisation. He soon meets King Louis XVI, who later looses his head, and the king publicly humiliates Adams for his lack of French. All of the French nobles laugh at Adams whilst the amused king marches out with a cane.

Adams later gets his comeback when he attends a state banquet with French dignitaries. One of them asks Adams if he wishes to attend the opera, but the ambassador rejects the offer. Amongst the foolery of Paris and its stupefying luxury, he says he has little time for the finer arts. This initially seems anti-intellectual, but Adams begins to explain.

Now I must study politics and war, you see, so that my sons will have the liberty to study mathematics and philosophy. My sons must study navigation, commerce and agriculture so that their children will have the right to study painting, and poetry and music.

The French court are embarrassed by their own luxury and the witty prowess of the monolingual American ambassador who reveals the frivolity of their society.

Whilst there might be complaints that America should spend more time trying to improve its painting skills, there are many great American artists in numerous fields of cultural achievement.

I also wonder if those who continue to make these complaints of American anti-intellectualism have ever attended a European football match?

Or have they tried to converse with one of these fanatical idiots?

There is only one country the whole world seeks to emulate. There is only one country that still has a positive outlook in almost all of Western civilisation. There is only one country that came to the rescue of Europe and defended its liberties when Nazi and Communist gangsters tried to destroy it.

I understand it’s not a popular position to sing the praises of America, but I have admiration for its society and the continued technological, intellectual and cultural march of its peoples. Whilst there is a lot of trash on television, those who complain about the Simpsons should watch British soap operas or spend a morning flickering through daytime Brazilian television.

America is by far one of the most intellectually active countries in history.

Andrew Is STUNNED By Goth Girl Who PS Her Boyfriend

Sentient

Submitted into Contest #283 in response to: Write a story that ends with a huge twist.… view prompt

Chris Broome

Ben was a stay at home father who loved his life. He spent his days with the children he loved so dearly as his wife Sarah was the bread winner. He loved being the “soccer dad”, as he was jokingly called by his male friends. Life was good and Ben felt fulfilled. He often thought he couldn’t have wished for anything more.Sarah loved the freedom that came with being the breadwinner. She had a wonderful loving husband and he was committed to her and the children. She was a junior executive at a local law firm whose emphasis was tax law. Numbers had always interested her since grade school. Her teachers and family tried to steer her to classes more suited to girls. English and Home Economy. She always felt frustration with her parents not realizing her passion and trying to shape her into the worlds image of what a girl should be.No Home Economics or an English degree with pressure from her parents would persuade her from her love of numbers. Being a teacher wasn’t for her. The main reason she fell in Love with Ben was his support for her passion. He was her encourager and her rock. It had been that way since middle-school. The two things Sarah knew since that time was she would have a Math degree and she would marry Ben.“ Pure mathematics is, in its way, the poetry of logical ideas.” This was a quote by Albert Einstein. Sarah said to Ben on Saturday morning as they lay in bed.“Your mind is like a wheel that never stops turning.” Ben told her as he reached over a gently rubbed her cheek with his right index finger.“You have been so kind to me and you love our children so much. i don’t know what I did to deserve you.” Sarah watched as Ben smiled and turned away.“I need you to do me a favor babe. I need to take some time and find myself.” Before he could finish his thought Sarah cut him off.“What do you mean? Is everything alright? Is our marriage in trouble? Have I done something to upset you?” She lifted her self up on her left elbow and look with concern at him.“No darling. No. I love my life. But there is a deep urge I have to find the inner me. The one that screams that I am a man. I feel like I have lost that over the years and I am scared if I can’t find a little piece of it, then I will slowly lose my passion.”“What are you proposing to me then?”“I have found a wilderness retreat that last about a week. I will have a guide and we will wonder through the forest and live off the land for a week.” Sarah watched Bens face light up as he spoke. She knew that just watching his body language he was captivated by the idea.“If that is what you feel like you need to accomplish to make you happy then I am al for it.” Sarah started calculating every step in he mind. The time off of work she would need to take, the time she would need to finish important work, the sitter for the children she would need, but most important the time Ben would be gone. Her logical brain was starting to be overwhelmed by her emotions. This was not common to her so she started feeling overwhelmed. She bent over and wrapped her hand under Bens jaw and turned his face towards him and kissed him.“Life is good and you are so good for me. I love you. Take the time, recharge and come back recharged.”“Thanks babe. I will let you know the plan once all is set and ready to go.” Sarah watched Ben get up and go to the bathroom. She got her cell phone and walked out of the bedroom. She walked downstairs into the kitchen and made a call.“Hello.” A nasal high pitched voice answered.“I nee help. Ben is acting strange!” Sarah said with an urgent whisper. She then went on and explained what was said in her conversation with Ben to the man.“That is new. Though not at all unexpected. This happens from time to time.” The nasally voice stated to her calmly.“ I can tell you how to handle this unless you want me to handle it.’““Just tell me. I can do what needs to be done, after all he is my husband.” Sarah heard an attempted chuckle.“Just tell me or I will come over there and make you regret the day you met me.” Her anger and anxiety was swelling.“Alright. Calm down.” He responded and went on to explain to her the plan to handle the situation. Sarah heard steps coming down the stairs just as the man finished talking. She hurriedly hung up the phone.“You in here babe?” Sarah heard as Ben walked into the kitchen.“Yes. I am going to fix some breakfast. I was thinking about cooking some eggs and cutting up some fruit. Do you want some?” Ben looked at her and had a devilish grin on his face.“Since the children spent last night with their friends and we have the house to ourselves, why don’t we go back upstairs?” Sarah smiled.

“That sounds wonderful.” The to turned and headed back up to the bedroom.

“I need to use the ladies room. Why don’t you get comfortable and when I get out I will give you a massage first.”

“Sounds heavenly.” Ben headed to the be and laid on his stomach. Sarah went to the bathroom and closed the door. She went to the sink and looked at herself in the mirror. Her heart was racing. She felt a warmness and felt little beads of sweat forming on her forehead. She took a deep breath. Turned on the faucet and splashed water on her face.

“I can do this she said to her reflection in the mirror.” She turned and walked into the bedroom. Ben was laying across the unmade bed on his stomach.

“I am ready for that massage.” He said and took a long breath. Sarah slowly walked to the bed and straddled his back. She began to slowly massage his mid-back and eased up to his shoulders. He sighed a relaxing breath.

“You are so good to me babe. I am a lucky man.” Sarah heard this but was so nervous she didn’t respond. She just kept massaging his shoulders.

“Is your neck soar? She asked.

“A little.” Ben felt her hands start to massage his neck.”

“I lo….” Sarah heard as she opened the little hatch and quickly mashed the red button. Ben became motionless. She jumped off of him and got dressed. She then made another call.

Shortly after the doorbell rang. A small framed middle aged man with a balding head stood outside as Sarah opened the door. There was a slight smell of peppermint as she drew closer to pull him inside the house.

“Come on we need to hurry the children will be back soon.” Sarah had grabbed him by the arm and started pulling him towards the staircase.

“I am coming. Slow down. If I fall and the new chip gets broke then it will take hours to get another.”

“I need this done quickly, Charles.” Sarah snapped.

“What is this like the sixth time we have done this since the real Ben died?” Sarah heard him say. She turned and pointed her boney finger in his face.

“He is what I have left of my husband. He is all the children have, do not marginalize this or make smart remarks.” Charles put his hands up in mock defeat.

“I was happy when you first contacted me about testing the sentient being I created at first. But now I feel like he has ruined you Sarah. You are my sister. You need to move past this!” Sarah heard him scream.

“I will move on when the time is right. But not now. I am not ready. He just has meant so much. Then there is the children. How? What? This just has to be!”

Is it true that Chinese Communist Party killed 60 to 80 million Chinese people?

China had 550 Million people in 1949 when the CPC came to power

China had 930 Million people in 1977 when Mao died

I presume nobody claims Deng had millions of Chinese murdered do they?

China’s Median Birth rate between 1949 to 1977 = Around 31 Births per 1000

Chinas Median Death rate between 1949 to 1977 = Around 12 Births per 1000

The Median Rise in Population between 1949 to 1977 = 28 * (13.73) = 385 Million

So Population in 1977 should be = 550+385 = 935 Million

This means 935 Million – 930 Million = 5 Million people missing

Of this around 3.75 Million to 4.10 Million fled China due to the Cultural Revolution

So this means around 900,000 to 1.25 Million Chinese who are not accounted for

This could be the maximum deaths that could have happened due to the CPC related tough measures imposed by Mao

As for the Great Leap Forward – THOSE NUMBERS ARE ALREADY INCLUDED IN THE DEATH RATE

A Lot of Villages reported their Dead

Every Village sent recruits to the Communists during the Civil War and had a list of their soldiers who served and eligible for pension

So the death lists are expected to be very accurate indeed

Still assuming a 30% error rate – That’s still a maximum of LESS THAN 2 MILLION

No way close to the 60–80 Million numbers the West makes up regularly

Kishore Mahbubani Explains IF China’s Economy is Going to Collapse

Why is Singapore the only developed country in Southeast Asia?

Not difficult to answer. I am sure you may not expect this answer to be a carbon copy of what you have already read.

I don’t need to dig any deeper for the hard fact why the rest of Southeast Asia countries can’t come any closer to Singapore that is worth to be called ‘developed country.’

Let’s look at few outstanding aspects that Singapore leaving the closest neighbor like Malaysia and Thailand and everyone in the dust.

Everyone knows that stable government that prioritizes long-term planning, efficient public services are the keywords for developed nations. Malaysia and Thailand know it as well but don’t bother.

Law and order that make country peaceful and prosper not only for kids’ bedtime stories like the 1MDB episode that is equivalent to Kids’ favorite—‘The Princess and the Frog’ So does corruption.. but taking a F1 free ticket, the minister should go to jail that’s the Singapore’s story.

While Malaysia and Thailand have made significant progress in economic development. But to come any close to achieve at the Singapore’s level of development requires hell of a lot, like addressing political, social, and economic challenges comprehensively.

I don’t mean to throw opponent in jail or let them live like Robinson Crusoe on ‘Pulau Langkawi or Koh Lipe’ but the unique combination of effective governance is what the 2 countries need-

Now you can see, one Prime minister is an ex convict and the other is the PM appointed by a resurrected ex- convict risen from death—-in Singlish is ‘where got hope!

With strategic policies not about the ban of chewing gum or putting molesters in jail but Singapore’s policies on housing, and keeping Singapore’s education on top of the world.

That Including, infrastructure like great public transport that many European countries could not match. Not only the MRT but also its connectivity is superb with covered walkways from your doorstep to the bus top even God is impressed (not even a raindrop is falling on your head)

Also, favorable geography has given Singapore a distinct advantage, like a free port that all ships love and airport and its Do-RE-Me in a blink of an eye and now the 5th airport is on your way that’s going to make KLIA and Suvarnabhumi look like the houses built by the ‘two little pigs’-another kids’ bedtime story.

However, Malaysia and Thailand have the potential to grow if they focus on long-term planning, education, and reducing inequality, and keep income from tourism at bay not solely depending on Russian mafia or Chinese crooks like what Thailand is treating them.

One last thing:-

Globalisation starts with speaking common language almost everyone in the world wishes like English and Chinese not die-die must take pride in speaking only ‘Malay and Thai’…

Singapore knows best and speaks all-Hokkien, Hakka, Cantonese, Malay, Tamil, Singlish, Chinese and Thai!—

That’s why Singapore’s PM could speak to any illiterate person in Singapore with no problems.

Bananas Foster Tart

Ingredients

1 Pillsbury Refrigerated Pie Crust
2 medium bananas, cut into 1/4 inch thick slices
1/2 teaspoon rum extract
1/4 teaspoon water
2 teaspoons orange zest
2/3 cup chopped pecans
2/3 cup firmly packed brown sugar
1/4 cup butter
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
Vanilla ice cream

Instructions

Heat oven to 450 degrees F.
Prepare pie crust as directed on package for one-crust baked shell in 9 inch Stoneware Pie Plate.
Bake for 9 to 11 minutes or until light golden brown.
Cool for 5 minutes.
In 1 quart Batter Bowl, combine bananas and rum; toss to coat.
Sprinkle orange zest evenly in bottom of baked crust. Arrange bananas in single layer over zest; sprinkle with pecans.
In medium saucepan, combine brown sugar, whipping cream and butter; cook and stir over medium high heat for 2 to 3 minutes or until mixture comes to a boil. Cook an additional 2 to 4 minutes or until mixture is thickened and deep golden brown, stirring constantly.
Remove saucepan from heat; stir in vanilla extract. Spoon warm filling over bananas and pecans. Cool for 30 minutes.
Serve warm or cool with ice cream.
Store in refrigerator.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

EMP Survival 5: Love in Nuevo Laredo

Submitted into Contest #283 in response to: Write a story with the line “I wasn’t expecting that.”… view prompt

KC Foster

From one of the nearby shelves, a can dropped, hitting the floor sending a clanking sound resounding through the empty grocery store. Masa cringed and held her breathe, trying to calm her racing heart. Not now, not now. Fearing an attack, she clenched her jaw and looked over the edge of the shelves. She locked eyes with Arion and relaxed. He stood strong, watching over them all and completely unphased by the sound. Masa was glad he had joined their group here. Arion had fought for her right to fight, unlike Leron, who had argued for her not to join the raid group. He was helpful and a good teacher, helping her to become strong and face this new world.Arion nodded, signaling that all was clear, and Masa returned to her task. She moved along the shelves, carefully placing cans of green beans, lima beans, and beetroot inside her backpack.The four other men who had come with them were doing the same, quietly raiding an old grocery store in an area controlled by one of the Nuevo Laredo cartels. It was one of the reasons, they had initially skirted around the city to begin with. The heads of the scouts they sent into the city to try and make contact were found jammed down on spikes just outside.Masa shivered and did her best to banish the image from her mind. This was no time to invite fear. When her bag was full, she rushed to the back of the store to the opening to the warehouse with the metal roll doors where they had broken in. She held the gun at the ready to provide cover for the others. With the guidance of the older men in their group, she had become quite adept at using it.“Hey, what are you doing in here?!” yelled a man’s voice, causing her to jump and grip the trigger.Gunfire followed, glancing off nearby walls and shelves sending glass and food supplies flying through the air. Masa leaped into action, following Arion through the shelves, and returning fire.“Retreat!” yelled Arion.Their raiding party, ran back the way they came, retreating into the warehouse. Masa returned to her corner, providing cover for the stragglers, and then rushed after the men. They were disappearing through the gap in the roll door and she leapt after them. A bullet grazed her arm and she cried out, before landing on the otherside and chasing after them. She did her best to ignore the pain while she moved from cover to cover to escape the men behind her.Through the streets they raced, weaving between abandoned vehicles and dodging the rotting corpses of looters. Nuevo Laredo had not been as fortunate as Monterrey. From the little they had learned; the cartels had abandoned their drug trade for governance and the war for supreme dictatorship was still going on here. Every day, a new body lay abandoned in the street or like their scouts, decapitated and their heads placed to set an example for anyone who dared cross them.Masa rounded the corner and found the raid team standing with their hands up facing a large group of armed men. From the group, a single man stepped forward, his hair cut short and teeth more metal than white. He laughed, “Not so lucky this time, are you?”Arion stepped forward; his hands raised in peace. “Our group is getting low on food, and we had no choice.”“The Western Canteena group? The one from Monterrey?”

“Yeah, and what of it?” demanded Arion.

“Rumor has it, your group brought seeds with you and you have farmers?” asked the man.

Arion stood silently, judging them and considering their request. After a time, he nodded. Masa watched, skeptical of trusting any of these cartels. She fumed, longing to yell at him. Arion had no right to make deals without the council’s approval.

“I am Don Marco,” the man said, “We have some food supplies we secured, but we are also running out. We will give you what you have taken as a peace offering, but I want to meet with your leaders. We need seeds and those who can farm if we are going to survive. Either that, or we must start moving north looking for better land.”

“We tried moving north,” said Arion. “One of the cartels has taken the bridge and we don’t have enough to move further west to cross the Rio Grande. I think we are in the same boat and we should work together.”

Masa approached Arion, standing behind him. He needed to stop before this got out of hand. “You can’t offer him that,” she hissed. “We discuss things.”

Arion looked down at her and frowned. “Trust me,” he growled, “The council will want this deal.”

Masa took hold of his arm, turning him to face her. “Tell him we’ll take his offer back. Let the council decide,” she argued.

Don Marco laughed. “She is certainly a spicy one. Is she your leader?”

“No, she’s not.” Arion snapped at Masa before facing Don Marco, his face a picture of calmness, “Fine. We’ll take your word back to our council. We’ll meet you at the Western edge of town where the old Walmart is in two days.”

“Agreed.” Don Marco and his men backed away before disappearing down a side street.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” said Arion.

“You idiot!” yelled Masa. “The only reason you are in charge of this raiding party is because you were a police cadet and you know the area. The council wouldn’t have trusted you otherwise.”

“And the only reason you are in it is because I let you,” he argued, glaring at her.

Masa balled her hands into fists and howled in frustration. “You…you…bastard.”

“Stuck up Bitch!”

Masa slapped him, and he took hold of her and kissed her. Her cheeks grew hot and she was distinctly aware of the other men around her laughing.

She shoved him backward and stared at the ground. “You…You…” her cheeks still warm. Her hands went to her lips. It wasn’t unpleasant, but the timing was terrible and she immediately thought of Leron. She had longed for Leron to kiss her since that night on the ridge, but he hadn’t. If anything he seemed to have lost interest, caught up in his new role in the council. Glaring at Arion, she ran towards their base at the canteena.

“Wait Masa!” cried Arion chasing after her. Masa could hear his footsteps behind her, growing closer. “It’s dangerous to go off by yourself. Come back! I’m sorry.” Masa didn’t listen, she continued to run, turning corner after corner through the narrow alleyways. Arion’s arms caught her, pulling her back as she fought him, but it was a lost cause. “I told you to stay still!” he yelled.

“Fine!” she said, glaring at him.

He ripped his shirt and bandaged her wound. “Masa, I find you incredibly attractive,” he said, smiling and her anger melted. “At first, I thought you were with Leron, but you two seem more like brother and sister than anything else. I stayed away and gave him time, but he hasn’t made a move so now I am making mine. Masa, I want you.”

Masa felt locked in his dark eyes. They drew her in, and the thought of his lips against hers brought butterflies to her stomach. He brushed her cheek and she smiled, moving toward her once more. This time she invited him, taking in his scent while his lips met hers. They touched gently and then harder. He pushed her towards the wall cupping her chin with one hand and running the other down her body.

The other men who had caught up to them cheered, and Arion looked back at them and laughed. “Come on, let’s go home,” he said, taking her hand and leading her towards the Canteena.

It was almost dark when they arrived. Masa emptied her bag onto the table along with the others. Arion disappeared toward the fire barrel where the council gathered in a circle, smiling back at her. She gave him a nod of approval and returned his smile.

Masa turned to go to her hiding place to think, but hesitated, watching Leron deep in discussion with the other council members. His dark face was barely visible in the flames, though his shirt, now in rags was bright enough. After all this time, she wondered why he had never changed it. Dressed like that and with his passive nature, he wouldn’t last more than five minutes out in the streets and was no real prospect for a future. She did love him, but he had never shown any indication of returning her feelings. For a long time, even she had waited, but he still hadn’t asked and now it was too late. Her feelings were moving on.

Leaving the others behind her, Masa climbed the storeroom ladder onto the roof. She needed a place to be alone and to think. On the edge of the building, she stared out at the sunset. They had come so far but were now stuck in Nuevo Laredo. They could not cross the international bridge. Even if they could get past the cartel that had made it their home, there was still the desert to cross. A few of the people who had joined them had spoken of rumors that all the major cities had been hit with bombs. Austin and Dallas were nothing but two great craters surrounded by radiation. If they could only find enough supplies to head out west they could find the prepper community along the border in West Texas. Her father had known a woman there by the name of Gerard. If Gerard’s computer had survived, she would have had access to satellite data on what had happened and could tell them where to go.

Masa picked up a rock and threw it off the roof. When she suggested they find the prepper community of West Texas, the council argued and became locked in disagreement. Leron who acted as their tie-breaker, voted against her, deciding it was a long shot to find some community in the middle of the desert. Of course, Masa couldn’t tell them where it was without revealing the maps in her pack.

The sun had almost fully set and Masa found herself nowhere. Her feelings were so tangled up over Leron and Arion that it was hard to focus. “I’m just another stupid teenage girl,” she muttered.

Leron snorted behind her, “You’re anything but stupid.” He sat beside her, joining her on the edge of the building and wrapping his arm around her.

“How did it go?”

“What? Oh, the council?” Leron sighed, “It looks like we are going to take Don Marco’s deal. If we can share what we have and work together to survive, then why not?”

“You’re not afraid of creating another Mattias?”

“No. This time any agreement will come with constraints,” he said.

“Aren’t you afraid they will take the deal and ignore any…wait…. did you use the word constraints?” Masa groaned, “You sound like a politician.”

Leron grinned. “And you look like a merc,” he said thumping the bandage around her arm and she yelped. His eyes went wide and he scowled at the bandage, rubbing the fabric between his fingers. He looked up at her, eyes filled with worry and Masa’s heart sank. “This is from Arion’s shirt. Are you…and he…?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” Masa snapped and Leron went silent.

The boy who had stared down Mattias after taking a beating from her and him wouldn’t look her in the eye. Instead, he stared off at the setting sun and was silent for a long time. He sighed and turned to leave.

“Seriously?” Masa demanded. “Is that all you’re going to say?”

Leron turned back, revealing tears forming in his eyes. “What do you want me to say, Masa? You’ve made your decision. I was waiting…”

“You waited too long… you should have acted. Arion did. He kissed me.”

“You want me to act, then fine!” he yelled and marched towards her. “I love you. I have loved you since I met you.” He pulled her towards him and met her lips with his in a long kiss. Masa’s breath caught in her throat, and butterflies filled her stomach. Her heart raced when she took in his scent. She ran her hand through his dreads, and down his neck, wanting more of him. It was nothing like with Arion. He didn’t just want her like Arion; he loved her and she loved him.

Leron pulled away, gazing into her eyes, his forehead resting against hers. “I didn’t act because I was waiting for you,” he whispered. “I will leave you to make your decision. If you choose him, I won’t get in the way.”

Tears filled Masa’s eyes when he pulled away, his hand held onto hers until their fingertips touched and he let them fall. He smiled his gentle smile and backed away from her. The pain she felt in her chest was almost unbearable.

“Wait,” Masa cried, rushing toward him. He froze at the top of the ladder and turned. Before he could react, Masa wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her head in his chest. “I love you too, Leron.” He wrapped his arms around her and rested his head on hers. His muscles relaxed and she felt his chest rise and fall against her cheek.

Leron held her tightly for a long time, rocking her in a dance across the roof. “I can’t believe I almost lost you,” he said, “I didn’t want you to fight because of how much I care about you, but if it’s what you want, I will support you.”

“It is.”

He sighed and nodded. “I’ll need to find you a different raid leader.”

How does being black in Canada differ from being black in the US?

I’m going to talk about something very specific I’ve noticed in Vancouver, where Blacks comprise only 1% of the population.

Imagine a world where there’s no anti-Black racism. People aren’t mistreated for being Black. People aren’t even treated differently. Instead, your skin complexion is treated as just as inconsequential a facet of who you are as your eye color. Would there be any race consciousness? Would people who share the same complexion feel any tribal affiliation towards one another?

I’m African. I grew up in a place where my race was a complete non issue. But I’ve lived in the US for more than half my life now. In the US, being Black is definitely a thing. It sets you apart. You are a minority. And, even if you try to pretend that race doesn’t exist, society will sooner or later remind you that you are Black first and everything else second. It is just what it is. So, in this environment, there’s a strong consciousness of being Black. I was sitting at a French-style cafe in Portland last week. This Black man entered. Immediately he took a seat next to mine—we were the only two Blacks in the establishment. We gave each other the nod, and we started talking.

This is what it means to be Black. The flip side of racial otherness is that you come to see every other member of your race as a brother. This is especially true when you’re in a place where Blacks are a small minority. Every time you see another Black person, you give each other a sign of acknowledgement.

I see you over there, fellow Black person, fellow passenger in this slow ride towards justice and equality, fellow fighter in the struggle. I see you. And I salute you.

But my experience here in Vancouver has been utterly different. Blackness is not a thing. In vain I search into the eyes of the Black people I encounter for a sign, a token of acknowledgement, a special greeting, anything. I’ve come to expect it, living in the US.

Nothing. Nothing at all!

I’m not a fellow Black person to them. I’m a perfect stranger, and an odd one at that.

Why is this fellow looking at me like that? Excuse me, you’re in the way! Hello? Can I help you?

This is what they seem to say when I look at them. It’s fascinating.

For the first time in half my life, I don’t feel Black. I can just be me, just another person, who merely happens to be chocolate-hued.

Why has the Chinese social app Xiaohongshu suddenly become popular in the United States?

The US government, in order to suppress China’s influence, threatened to ban TikTok, which resulted in a large number of users flocking to another app developed by a Chinese company. In other words, by “banning TikTok,” the US government gave China an opportunity to showcase its influence. Just like a blogger said on X, thousands of people downloading Xiaohongshu to spite the US government, finding themselves having lovely interactions with the millions of Chinese citizens on the app & inadvertently undoing decades of US propaganda.

Now both Chinese and Americans have found that they have a platform for direct dialogue and communication, and the best way to communicate is to share each other’s daily lives. So we can all see that Xiaohongshu is now filled with laughter and vitality. Isn’t this how the internet should be?

Without Western media manipulating public opinion by exploiting information gaps, nor the propaganda personnel of the US government, people on both sides can now understand the real situation of each other. For example, the Chinese people have now discovered that American schools attach far more importance to patriotic education than they had imagined. When an American said she spent $1,500 on having a wisdom tooth removed, and a Chinese said medical insurance covered all of his costs, both sides fell silent.

When the US government threatened to ban TikTok, it made a “great move,” dealing a heavy blow to the “information cocoon” fabricated by itself. And I’m glad to see that people are getting past the “wall” of false information and glimpsing a “new world.” This could mark a promising beginning.

Do Indians generally feel proud when comparing their country’s greatness to China’s?

Citizens of successful countries never feel proud of their country. They regard their successes as inevitable and taken for granted and get annoyed only when there is failure

China has reached such a level today

If something fails, it garners attention across China and Netizens have multiple comments

If something succeeds, it’s a “Very Good. What Next” moment

If China gets 40 Gold Medals in an Olympic event, it’s normal and merits a polite “Good News”

If China gets fewer medals and loses many games, it merits a lot more “What went wrong” moments and a lot more discussion

India is nowhere near such a level

So the smallest, teeniest, tiniest win is regarded a major success

Some random IITian does something which becomes newspaper headlines whereas in China, 10,000 Students do similar things regularly which never even get mentioned because their standards to praise are much higher

Chandrayaan 3 was part of main headlines and main mainstream news for 12 days in India

The ChangE mission formed part of headlines on China Daily and Peoples Daily and CGTN for 2 days in China

China hasn’t yet reached the level of US though

They still show pride in places like

Mate 60
Mate 70
Black Myth Wukong
Tianlong Space Station
XHS App and 13.1 Million Downloads in 3 days and

Americans don’t even take pride in such major achievements because for them it’s taken for granted even more than China

They don’t take pride in the Iphone or the F-35 Or F-22 Or World of Warcraft or Xbox or PlayStation or Harvard or MIT

For them its a “So what else is new” moment

Indians also feel proud of the stupidest and most mundane things

Indian Americans earn the most money
Indian born US Citizens become CEOs of Big Tech Or Senators or Congress men
Ambani and Adani have billions of Dollars
How Modi is called a ‘Rockstar’ by foreign leaders

Chinese couldn’t care less about any of these things

For instance Mainstream Media in India covered Modis lack of invitation for Trumps inauguration for 5 weeks whereas Xis invitation and refusal were covered for 1–2 days in China as token news

They gave more coverage to the Grenada and SL HOS visits to China

So We have to evolve our mindset

Bizarre

What do you think about the video of China’s 6th generation fighter jet taking to the skies for the first time?

Question: What do you think about the video of China’s 6th generation fighter jet taking to the skies for the first time?

Answer:

I think (as of 2024–12–27) we will have to wait for more information.

There is a famous quote from a Chinese movies and the quote “let the bullet fly a bit” (让子弹飞一会), meaning that in this day of internet age, initiate appearance and information can be deceptive, so you need to wait until more information surfaces.

Yes, if you are a private news media, then you had to guess because you need to the early on the “shocking news”, but if you are not getting paid for such action, then the much wiser move is wait and see.

So far, the information I gathered is that there is has been no official comments, so everything is guess and speculation at this point. But the observation has been that both designs differ drastically from the existing fifth generation fighters in service.

This could either range from a newer generation design (which isn’t out of the realm of possibility) or the Chinese aviation industry may simply been trying out different stuff, because, why not? They got the budget and the test facilities, and Mao has said: “Empirical test is the only way to verify truth”.

What was your most memorable encounter with Army personnel during your Air Force service?

One of the most memorable encounters with Army personnel I had, was at the Charleston AFB PAX Terminal. There were a group of Army enlisted that were flying to Germany for transition to their next assignment. Unfortunately, the plane had problems and so their flight had to be rescheduled for the next day. I happened to be at the terminal at the time and since some of my airmen were working the billeting desk and being both a 1st Sgt and former Army, I took it upon myself to take care of them. First we went down and got them rooms. That was the start of it all. I showed them their quarters, 2 men to a room which came with a bathroom, TV, remote controls, clock radio & phone. They quickly told me no! I asked why? They responded: we can’t stay here, we are enlisted & these are officer quarters! I explained that these rooms were what Air Force enlisted folks stayed in. Then.. it was on to the Dinning Facility which featured a smorgasbord selection of food and beverages with the atmosphere of a civilian restaurant. Again.. there was utter wonder shown at the facility. When we got ready to leave, as per Army protocol, they started to pickup their plates & silverware in preparation to take and clean them before stacking at a wash area. Again I intervened telling them to leave it on the table as the staff would take care of that, just like at a civilian restaurant. When we returned to their billeting I briefed them as to the check out time and that transportation would be waiting at the lobby to return them to the terminal for their flight. Before leaving I asked them if they had any other questions. The look on their faces was one of incredible awe. One fellow said… “ yeah.. I screwed up! How’s that I asked? He responded… I should have gone Air Force. I laughed, having been in the Army I knew just what he meant.

Is US witness protection as nice as it looks on TV or is it less luxurious? Why are the houses so nice and in such nice areas? Why not small apartments?

I just finished the book Witsec: Inside the Federal Witness Protection Program. My answer is based on what I read there.

Relocated witnesses are set up in hotels or motels until they find a place to live. They usually have to rent, as entering WITSEC usually means leaving behind anything that could tie you to your old identity. This includes investments, especially if they were of an illicit nature.

The U.S. Marshals Service (USMS) supplies a stipend to the relocated witnesses for up to two years. The stipend isn’t anything to get excited about—typically around $30,000 per year, in monthly installments. The USMS also assists the witnesses in getting employment. Most witnesses don’t have any law-abiding world skill sets, and those who do usually can’t work in their former profession, as they may be noticed or recognized. Some of the occupations described were truck drivers, warehousemen, and security guards. Again, not usually careers to get excited about. The witnesses eventually have to earn enough to support themselves, and the salaries those jobs command won’t fund much in the way of luxury.

When a witness is still being debriefed or is awaiting relocation, they may be put up in a hotel or a rented house in an isolated spot. The USMS also has a facility in Virginia that can house up to four families at one time, all isolated from one another. This is where people new to WITSEC get evaluated, briefed, coached, and prepared for relocation. The witnesses arrive and depart the facility in blacked-out vehicles, so they don’t know its location.

A common theme among the many stories of relocated witnesses in the book was that life in WITSEC is hard. In most cases, you will never see your family and friends again, and anything you accomplished in life is rendered null and void. You start over in multiple senses of the term.

Minestrone Pasta Bowl

Yield: 8 servings or 24 sample servings

Ingredients

1 (16 ounce) package uncooked rigatoni pasta
2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
2 teaspoons Pantry Italian Seasoning Mix, divided
1 large zucchini, sliced
1 large carrot, chopped
8 ounces mushrooms, sliced
2 garlic cloves, pressed
1 (26 ounce) jar spaghetti sauce
1 (15 ounce) cangarbanzo beans, drained and rinsed
1/4 cup (1 ounce) grated fresh Parmesan cheese

Instructions

Cook pasta according to package directions in Professional (8-quart) Stockpot; drain using large Colander.
Return pasta to stockpot; add 1 tablespoon of the oil and 1 teaspoon of the seasoning mix, stirring to coat. Cover and keep warm.
Meanwhile, using Ultimate Slice & Grate fitted with v-shaped blade, slice zucchini.
Chop carrot using Food Chopper.
Slice mushrooms using Egg Slicer Plus(R).
Heat remaining oil in Stir-Fry Skillet over medium heat until hot. Add garlic pressed with Garlic Press; stir-fry 1 minute using Bamboo Spatulas.
Add zucchini and carrot; stir-fry 2-3 minutes or until vegetables are crisp-tender.
Add mushrooms, spaghetti sauce, garbanzo beans and remaining seasoning mix. Cook, stirring occasionally, 5-6 minutes or until sauce is bubbly and heated through.
Transfer pasta to Simple Additions(TM) Large Bowl. Carefully pour sauce over pasta. Grate Parmesan cheese over pasta using Deluxe Cheese Grater.
Serve immediately.

Nutrition

(Light) Per serving: Calories 350, Total Fat 9g, Saturated Fat 1.5g, Cholesterol less than 5mg, Carbohydrate 57g, Protein 13g, Sodium 480mg, Fiber 6g

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Why do people become poor and broke?

It all starts with the family. At least it did with my brother. My brother was a kid that had learning difficulties in school and needed extra help from teachers.

My dad was a person that had a hard time recognizing how a kid could have so much difficulty using a screwdriver or how doing simple things was tough for my brother. Consequently, my dad made fun of him or said things to belittle him. As time went along, my brother became a narcissist who had difficulty holding a job and difficulty saving money. Fortunately even though I grew up in the same house, I didn’t come out so bad.

I think having a bad upbringing could be a strong reason why you are bad with money.

When did you realize you “dodged a bullet”?

I had to evict a motorcycle gang.

In 2003, I was buying foreclosure houses at auction in Oregon with a real estate agent partner. We bought a house that, unbeknownst to us, was owned by a motorcycle gang member.

My partner and I knocked on the door, and a big, mean-looking, tattooed guy answered the door. We let him know we bought the place and wanted to talk. Two of his buddies entered the room and just stared at us.

We explained that we bought the place at auction and do not work for the bank that foreclosed on you. We asked about him. He said he was a steel worker and a member of a motorcycle gang, as were his friends, who were staring at us. We explained that the law stated that the previous owner had 10 days to move out, but we realized it takes longer for some folks. I then asked him how much time he needed. He said three weeks.

About 2 weeks later, I stopped by and asked how it was going. He was working on his truck and was holding a radiator hose. At one point in the conversation, he said that people who get hit by radiator hoses don’t leave a mark. I said, ya, I heard that and kept on talking. He then said he has an uncle who works for the mob. In one quick move, he can tear a person’s ear off and stuff it into their shirt pocket. I just said wow and asked again if he needed more time to move. He said he needed another week. As I was driving away, the thought hit me. He was threatening me, and it was a good thing we were talking on the front lawn with the neighbor next door mowing their lawn!

Two weeks later, he called and said he was out. He thanked me for treating him like a normal person. I went over and found 3 women living in the garage. They were drug users, and I had to talk them into leaving too.

Grilled Turkey Breast Steaks

Where has this been all my life? - MM

Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

1/4 cup soy sauce
1/4 cup vegetable oil
1/4 cup chicken broth
2 tablespoons lemon juice
2 tablespoons dried minced onion
1/4 teaspoon dry mustard
3 (4 ounce) turkey breast steaks, 3/4 to 1 inch thick

Instructions

Combine soy sauce, oil, chicken broth, lemon juice, onion, dry mustard and black pepper in Small Batter Bowl; whisk until blended.
Place turkey in resealable plastic food storage bag. Add marinade; seal bag. Marinate in refrigerator 1-3 hours, turning occasionally.
Prepare grill.
Remove turkey from marinade; discard marinade. Grill turkey over medium coals 6-8 minutes per side, turning with Barbecue Fork and Barbecue Turner, or until meat is no longer pink in center.

Nutrition

Per serving: Calories 240, Total Fat 15g, Saturated Fat 1g, Cholesterol 55mg, Carbohydrate 2g, Protein 23g, Sodium 1030mg, Fiber 0

Attribution

Pampered Chef

What’s the dumbest case you’ve ever had on jury duty?

Once upon a time, last century when I lived in NZ, my children had gone off to school, I volunteered at the then-overwhelmed social welfare system. At one stage, I was asked to attend children’s court.

A young girl from an island in the Pacific who was then living in New Zealand, and totally unaware of how the world lived was bailed up in front of the judge. Her whole family were in attendance, uncles and aunts, cousins, sisters, brothers, and what seemed to me to be a lot of teachers, most of them in tears, while the young girl (10 or 11 aged) stood there petrified and bewildered.

The case against this little girl was that she had falsified a withdrawal slip to obtain cash from her parents account.

It transpired that she had seen her mother sign this sort of withdrawal slip a number of times, and receive money for it. Christmas was coming up, and she wanted to buy something for her beloved family. Without understanding how the system worked and why her mother was able to get funds when she presented the withdrawal slip, she did as she had seen her mother do.

The teller at the bank reported it to the bank manager, idiot that he was, without asking any questions, he informed the police and they started the legal process that saw the little girl in court.

Lucklily for all, the most amazing judge presided, exuding kindness and understanding, with a large dose of goodwill, asked the little girl to explain, but she remained mute, frozen in terror, with the whole family weeping in the courtroom.

The judge silently read the prosecution’s case, turned to the little girl, explained WHY the mother could withdraw money from the bank and she could not, Made the appropriately worded but clearly annoyed comment about the stupidity of some adults (to bring this matter to court) and apologised to the whole family for this situation (which must have been of enormous stress to them during the many weeks of waiting for the court date to deal with this.) This judge was known for his integrity, sensible jdugement and as an enormously kind and sensible human being.

How miserable are Americans’ lives compared to the Chinese?

These days, I saw some American lives on Xiaohongshu.

The strangest thing I found was that many people said they needed to work 80 hours a week to pay their bills.

In China, the most sinful 996 is only 72 hours a week; and the 996 working hours can make them earn at least 3 times the income of ordinary engineers. They are indeed exchanging time for income. People who work 996 usually only need 1/5 of their income to pay all their bills. They work so hard so that they can afford a luxury house, not an ordinary life.

During the 3 years of this pandemic, I was unemployed and my daughter was in college.

My wife worked alone and was able to cover the household bills, my daughter’s college expenses, and we even went on 2 trips. My wife had 2 surgeries.

In addition, we still had money left over for savings.

My wife was just a low-level salesperson in the company.My wife works about 50 hours a week.

Multi-Millionaire Warns “We Risk Revolution” As Americans Grow Increasingly Desperate

The first two minutes are pure gold. It is just the reality.

This is serious times for the West. Especially for America.

And today’s GEM…

Looks like the Trump admin is finally admitting about the technology that the USA has. Interesting shit.

Time Travel Is Real and Here’s How it Works, Government Has Been Hiding It | Redacted

5 comments Cinema Mode

In late 2023, Ashton Forbes and his group on X.com claimed to have solved the mystery of what happened to Flight MH-370, with the help of leaked US satellite and drone footage, Chinese satellite images and by consulting with numerous witnesses and experts.

The upshot of what Forbes believes happened is that there was a lithium ion battery explosion on the plane that caused a major fire, causing the Captain to turn the plane around and to descend to a lower altitude, to allow his passengers to breathe after cabin de-pressurization. Then, he believes a secret US Navy teleportation technology was directed at the airliner.

In the leaked videos that we see here, looped in Ashton Forbes’ interview with Clayton Morris on Redacted, we see three orbs rotating around the fuselage of Flight MH-370, before the plane appears to be “zapped” out of space-time.

These three orbs could be partial visible evidence of the process that Bob Beckwith was trying to get me to understand, 25 years ago, when I was writing a book about space-time manipulation.

Bob told me that by the late 1990s, the US Navy’s entire Osprey Class of minesweepers were equipped with teleportation capabilities and that these ships could literally “blip” themselves to anywhere on the planet. The ships could also be placed one second ahead of Universal space-time while cruising and thereby, go undetected.

If it’s true that this teleportation technology was on Osprey Class minesweepers in the 1990s, then it’s probably on a lot of other military vehicles by now, as suggested by Air Force General Steven Kwast and by White House Office of Science & Technology Director, Michael Kratsios, earlier this week.

Bob Beckwith was the Founder of the successful electrification systems engineering company, Beckwith Electric. He was an electronics wunderkind who at 23, was working at Bell Labs in the early 1940s, when the US Navy commandeered him for the war effort, mainly to work on “sonar invisibility”, to help make US ships undectable to the German mines being laid off the East Coast, which were blowing merchant ships out of the water.

The capability of placing ships ahead of Universal space-time would hypothetically eliminate this threat. In Bob’s book that he sent to me, ‘Hypotheses’, he expounded on his theory about “Divided Space”. He theorized that “bubbles” of Divided Space could be created and separated from what he called “Universal Space” by applying three counter-rotating EM fields of enough force.

He explained this is what enables UFOs to take 90º and 45º turns at thousands of g forces, without breaking up; because these craft possess technology that generates a field of Divided Space around them.

So, it’s very interesting to me that the leaked footage seen in video of Ashton Forbes’ interview with Clayton Morris shows three small orbs revolving around the fuselage of the airliner before they all disappear in an endothermic blip, with no heat signature – or what Ashton Forbes suggests is a “phase transition” of the plane, as he told Keith Malinak and Zeynep Yenisey on At The Mic.

Bob Beckwith wrote another short book called ‘Levitation, Teleportation and Time Travel’. Bob and the contents of this book are referenced in a 15-page document that Richard Dolan called “The UFO leak of the century”, which was entered into the public record during the May 17th 2022 Open House Intelligence Counterterrorism, Counterintelligence, and Counterproliferation Subcommittee hearing on UFOs (“UAPs”).

Among many other things, the document confirms the existence of an “MJ-12-like cabal”, the 1947 UFO crash at Roswell, alien bodies and an ultra secret UFO crash retrieval and back-engineering program operating completely outside of government oversight and which was still active as of 2002.

Bob shared a lot of other interesting details, that I posted about, here.

I’m not a physicist and I can’t say with 100% certainty whether Bob was psyopping me – and psyopping the House Subcommittee on UFOs, postmortem – or telling the truth. All I can say is that the above is what he told me and you can read more about that and other, totally crazy stuff that people claimed to me was true in my first book, ‘The Philadelphia Experiment Murder’.

I also can’t say with 100% certainty whether Ashton Forbes is psyopping us. His digital footprint is limited to podcasts and social media. From a previous podcast, we learned that Ashton is an IT professional with a US Government security clearance. So his “bonafides” are mysterious but he’s very good at explaining things.

In this interview with Clayton Morris, Ashton goes into the fascinating details about the technology that we are witnessing in the leaked videos of MH-370, which he believes was quantum-tunneled, i.e., teleported from its flight path to an unknown location. He believes the “zap” that we see in the video is:

“Absolute proof [that] the orbs are inducing a Negative Energy state [“pulled-out” of Zero Point Energy] through a low energy Phase Transition…

“That’s gravitational lensing, right there…Now, what you’re seeing here is, you’re seeing space-time being contracted. And when it gets contracted, the Refractive Index, the Permittivity of the Vacuum changes. And when that happens, what you see is this effect, where the Ground State of…your orbs goes down.

“And what this does is it’s like a trampoline, like jumping on a little trampoline. It pulls a little bit of energy out and it doesn’t even have to be that much energy, because those balls of plasma are 20 feet wide of condensed charge. They’re extremely powerful magnets.

“So when you jam them together, the closer they get, that force goes up and it amplifies, to a degree where then, boom, space-time, itself breaks down…and magnetic reconnection occurs when the orbs get too close because these magnetic fields, these orbs is so powerful.

“Now, the last thing I want to say on the orbs, for you to understand, which is helpful, is that these are orbs of Coherent Plasma, meaning that what’s happening is the magnetic and electric fields the plasma is producing is what’s being used to make it into a sphere…

“So, what they figured out is if they move the plasma around the right way, the fields will cause the plasma to become an orb that stays coherent in the sky, that can float around.

“And that’s called Magnetohydrodynamics (MHD). You’ll see the acronym all over the place. They’re using controlled powerful magnetic fields to move the plasma around, keep the charge separated, the positive and the negative, so that it acts like a lightning bolt…

“The last point I want to make is…I think [what we’re seeing in the videos is) actual teleportation. So what’s happening is the orbs must have an equal number of charge between the four orbs. You’ve got three orbs around the plane and you’ve got one orb somewhere else. So when this plane is being teleported – Delta, don’t sue me – and then comes back, the orbs need to cancel-out…

“[One] configuration could be that the three orbs next to the plane all add up to one negative charge. And then, you have one positive charge, let’s say, at Diego Garcia or in the Maldives. And then, when the orbs come together, it causes them to slingshot and come together and then they appear at your new location.”

Ashton goes on to say that he believes, “There is no way for you to actually go back to a previous time in the Universe. But you can actually travel in time. Time travel is 100% real…You can travel to the future, number one. You can slow your rate of time, so that everything else looks like it’s speeding-up around you, to such a degree, where you could go 100 years in the future…The other thing you could do is you could reverse your biological process. You could put a bubble around yourself and reverse the entropy of inside the bubble, which is you and your age, and you could reverse your age.“

This last description sounds a bit like the “bubbles” of “Divided Space” that Bob Beckwith was telling me about.

Shortly after my book came out in January 2001, the tiny cabin that I was renting on Big Fresh Pond in Southampton, NY was repeatedly broken-into and my personal belongings riffled-through – including on the day that I went into Manhattan to meet with FEMA in October 2001, at the apartment I’d rented for 8 years, 1/2 block from the World Trade Center, when my apartment was declared “Uninhabitable” and FEMA later wired me $4,000 to cover the cost of moving out and buying a new couch.

I was traumatized by the devastation of Lower Manhattan that I’d just seen. Then, I got back to my rented cabin and someone had broken into it again and tossed things around.

I was spooked by these repeated break-ins and I was sick of everybody thinking I was crazy, so I eventually stopped talking – or even thinking – about what I’d learned, while writing my book about the manipulation of space-time.

But suddenly, it appears that a discussion of this subject is fair game – even if ChatGPT’s Woke AI doesn’t like it!

…

TRANSCRIPT

Clayton Morris: Alright, I want to talk about time travel. I’m looking forward to this all day. I’ve been looking forward to talking with Ashton Forbes all day in the secret technology.

Yes, the White House admitting this week, on the record by the way, that we possess the technology to manipulate time and space. In other words, time travel, teleportation technology, like the very same technology that was used to make MH-370, Malaysian Airlines Flight 370, disappear in thin air on camera. And by the way, the people that are like, “Oh, that video has been debunked.”

Shut up. No, it hasn’t. In fact, it’s been the opposite. It’s been “bunked”. It’s not been debunked. And the man who helped really uncover the story from the beginning is Ashton Forbes.

One of our favorite guests, here on the show. I call him a “physicist” because he is citizen journalist and one of the most prolific individuals in this space. And just thrilled to have you on the show, Ashton.

Ashton Forbes: Great.

Clayton Morris: Great to have you. Welcome back to the show, my friend.

Ashton Forbes: Thanks, Clayton. Feelings mutual. It’s always fun to talk to you.

Clayton Morris: Blast. I hope we have fun here. I’m really looking forward to this.

So this is, the reason I wanted to have you on is because of this bombshell. There’s a couple of stories, over the past couple of weeks that kind of came out. I want to play this first soundbite from General Kwast.

Now, he worked in Colorado, training individuals, and he saw this technology basically, I think, on the desks of Air Force engineers in the United States Air Force. And it was basically admitting that we have these incredible technologies that allows us to teleport transport in ways that you wouldn’t blow your mind. So let me just play a few seconds of this. Watch this one.

(Roll video of General Kwast)

General Kwast: The technology is on the engineering benches today, but most Americans and most in Congress have not had time to really look deeply at what’s going on, here. But I’ve had the benefit of 33 years of studying and becoming friends with these engineers and these scientists.

This technology can be built today with technology that is not developmental, to deliver any human being from any place on planet Earth to any other place in less than an hour; to deliver Wi-Fi from space, where you never need a cell tower to connect, to deliver…

Clayton Morris: Yeah. And then this just happened over the past 48 hours. Trump White House official of Science and Technology Policy Director Michael Kriatsos said that, “We possess the technology that can manipulate time and space.” Watch.

(Roll Video of Michael Kriatsos)

Michael Kriatsos: Our passenger planes are slower than they used to be. Our trains crawl, compared to those in other parts of the world. Our cars do not fly. Advances have not stopped, but something has gone wrong. Stagnation was a choice. We have weighed-down our builders and innovators.

The well-intentioned regulatory regime of the 1970s became an ever-tightening ratchet, first hampering America’s ability to become a net energy exporter and then making it harder and harder to build.

We seem to have lost focus and vision, to have lowered our sights and let systems and structures and bureaucracies muddle us along. But we are capable of so much more. Our technologies permit us to manipulate time and space.

They leave distance annihilated, cause things to grow and improve productivity…

Clayton Morris: So he’s basically – and I love what you tweeted the other day – you pointed out basically, he’s admitting that we allowed our technology to purposefully stagnate, that we almost slowed it down, on purpose, yet we have the ability to manipulate time and space.

So first of all, when you heard his comments, what did you think?

Ashton Forbes: The first thing I thought was, “OK, let me see the context.” And when you get the context, it’s actually even crazier, in the context.

He’s saying that, “We intentionally made a choice to hamstring our technology.” And he’s talking, specifically about transportation technology. And then he says, “We are capable of so much more.”

And when he says that, “We have the ability to manipulate time and space,” he’s talking about gravity manipulation. That’s what manipulation of time and space literally is.

And then, after that, he speaks to other things that also would speak to things like what plasma might do, to make things grow, as well as, just other applications for the same technology, potentially as well, like AI.

He speaks to making things “more productive”, which in today’s day and age would mean AI. He says something about the 1970s, which I don’t think anybody really picked up on. But if you’re somebody that has researched gravity research, in the ’70s, the Mansfield Amendment was passed.

And what this did was made it so that the military could not fund things that were not related to combat; direct military applications. And so, gravity research got pushed to the defense contractors.

So all of these references, like, “There’s no way,” there’s so many people gaslighting about, “Oh, he’s talking about telephones and internet.”

These people are sitting at the little kids table, right? Well, there’s two videos out there in perfect sync that show a plane literally disappearing out of space-time, that is still missing 11 years later. So we got to just be real about it. As much as we don’t want to believe it, whatever, but it seems undeniable to me.

Clayton Morris: Yeah. We’re watching this. This is MH-370 on the screen here, which of course disappears using – so, would you say that maybe the same technologies that he’s talking about – is what allowed the United States government to disappear MH-370?

Ashton Forbes: Yeah, definitely. And what we’re talking about, here is technology that you can find a lot of videos of engineers talking about this, that Zero Point energy technology is an echelon above anything that we have conventionally, right now. So even nukes are completely obsolete, in the face of this level of technology.

And you’ll hear people talking about this all over the place. So you can imagine a lot of scenarios, where, with this type of technology, the United States Government is uncontested in the world. And this explains why nobody has really actually tried to challenge us on the global stage for almost an entire century, at this point.

And some people “Well say, if these are out there, could other countries have figured it out?” Yes. I think there’s a shadow arms race. And I think it overlaps with the UFO community where they say that “This might be UFO tech” or whatever, and then Russia and China are working on this.

This is what scares me the most about this is that if two warring factions get this level of technology, the science on display here that I want to go through with you today, it has the capability of producing not just a wormhole, but actually a black hole, like annihilation of the entire Planet – maybe even the entire solar system. This is a matter of scale.

And what you realize from these videos and the science related to them is that physics, the universe is scale-invariant. Stuff that you can do on the small level, small scale, you can also do on the large scale. Those orbs that you see there, they are mimicking atoms.

It looks like an atom. It’s a positively-charged plasma in the center with electrons, that you can see is as green; as a shell around it. You can even see the shell of the electrons move fluidly when they start to spin around the plane because the magnetic field they’re producing around the plane.

It’s just wild, when you look at it and you can see all of that detail from that.

So what I was hoping today is to – and I’ve seen you talk to Tucker Carlson – some people that are really prominent and connected. And I want to help, because you’re saying all the right stuff; to get all the lingo and arm you with all the tools that you need, to help explain to the general masses and to these people who are connected, like what’s really going on, here, from a scientific perspective and from a suppression perspective and National Security, as well.

Clayton Morris: Please. So let’s get into it. So, I mean, I think what you just said is amazing that nuclear weapons are obsolete. Nuclear weapons are obsolete that we have the ability to manipulate time and space. Those are the weapons that that’s why no one wants to touch us, because we have things that are far more powerful. And I think, I think you would agree that these technologies have come from UFO crash retrieval programs, if I’m not mistaken, right?

Ashton Forbes: Well, I think there’s a lot of options. I’m open-minded, you know, and I’ve now grown to have a viewpoint of anything that’s possible, under the right conditions. So does it come from aliens? Does it come from things that we dug-up? Does it come from future humans or another dimension?

I don’t know if we have enough evidence to say for sure, at the moment. I will say I’m pretty confident there’s a psychological operation going on, to get us to be convinced that humans can’t understand this, that it’s “alien technology. It’s alien physics that humans can’t possibly understand.”

And that way, if we’re doing Black Operations, covert operations – which is what the MH-370 videos show – we can blame it on “aliens”.

“Oh, it was aliens that zapped the plane away!”

No, aliens aren’t zapping the plane away. That’s us. That’s what humans do. So I think that they’re trying to get us to avoid that.

And it’s very important to realize that there is no alien physics. Anything that aliens can understand, anywhere in this universe, that’s physics that we can understand.

We are simply missing something that’s probably right in front of us, when it comes to how these UFOs we see flying in the sky are moving around. And absolutely, anyone out there: UFOs are real. There are things flying around that people do not understand. It doesn’t necessarily mean it’s “aliens” though.

Here’s the secret after I dug into it, as an investigator, the answer to the question of how this is all possible is Negative Energy.

And you go, “Wait, wait, Ashton, all the academics are saying that Negative Energy is this non-existent exotic substance!”

Yeah. Why are they saying that? Because it’s not, it’s a conceptual misunderstanding. And then, boom, the whole universe opens up to us. Tesla technology is possible.

Clayton Morris: Yeah. Let’s, so let’s break it down for the lay person and let’s, if we want to get this out to the masses.

So, in my conversations with Tucker and others about, about this, trying to kind of break through maybe the psychological operation that’s out there and lay it bare for everybody: Negative Energy, what is it and how could it be used in all of these applications?

Ashton Forbes: Exactly. So there’s something called the “vacuum catastrophe”, which is that we look up in the sky and we measure the cosmic microwave background. We’re measuring all the heat that we can see in the sky.

And we say that that’s all the energy that’s out there, in the Universe. And it comes to this relatively small amount of energy.

But then, Quantum Mechanics came around. Wheeler and Feynman came into play and Schwinger and Feynman won the Nobel prize for Quantum Electrodynamics in 1965.

John Archibald Wheeler and Richard Feynman said, when you do the math on the quantum perspective on the energy of the Universe, it’s over 120 orders of magnitude higher than when we measure the cosmic microwave background. Why this discrepancy? Which one is correct? Is there no Zero Point energy out there to be tapped into? Or is there a huge ocean of energy that can be tapped into?

The difference between this question is the difference between whether or not Negative Energy exists or not.

If you don’t think Negative Energy exists, because it’s an “exotic substance”, then you’re somebody that believes that the cosmic microwave background is the answer; that there’s no energy to be tapped into.

But if you’re somebody that understands Quantum Mechanics, you realize that we’re not talking about thermal energy. We’re not talking about heat. We’re talking about vibrational energy.

The Zero Point energy, that ocean of energy, it’s vibrating all the time, on the tiniest possible scales. And that’s how we interact with it. That’s why Tesla was saying that there’s an “ether” of energy and that “The answer to the Universe is energy, frequency, and vibration.”

So what these people need to understand then is, well, what’s the thing that we missed? Zero is not the bottom. Zero point energy is quite literally the energy that exists below zero. The energy below the Ground State.

So “zero” is not the bottom. That’s not “zero”. It’s just the Ground State. It’s just the equilibrium state. That’s us, on top of the ocean. We’re on top of the ocean, floating around.

So what’s Negative Energy? Oh, if we tap into that Zero Point energy, we pull it out!

And what are those orbs doing in that video? This is why it’s proof!

This is why the “zap” in the video is absolute proof. The orbs are inducing a Negative Energy state through a low energy Phase Transition. The Ground State of – imagine, just a hydrogen atom. The Ground State of the hydrogen atom is shrinking a little bit, because they’re shrinking the space.

Like, you look at my screen right here. Let me see if I can make this work. They’re shrinking the size of the space, itself. And when you do this, everything comes together. Everything gets squished together.

And when you do this, it changes the Permittivity of the Vacuum of that region of space-time. It allows for Negative Energy to be possible, because the Ground State goes down for every atom that’s there. And when that occurs, there’s a release of energy.

That release of energy is an ultraviolet light. This is why in the Whammy [?] video, the “satellite video”, you see a flash of light come.

So we’re like, “Oh, there’s light.” But when you look in the thermal, it’s black. It’s cold. So: ultraviolet light.

Clayton Morris: So, let’s show, let’s show that.

(Roll thermal video of MH-370 with three revolving orbs)

Clayton Morris: So this is the one where we see –

Ashton Forbes: – that’s gravitational lensing, right there.

Clayton Morris: So what are we seeing here? So there, it disappears.

Ashton Forbes: That was the frame, right beforehand. And then, the frame right after this wormhole opens up, by the way, there’s only four frames of this wormhole and you can actually see it open and close. You can even see the tail of the plane in the first frame right there.

Now, what you’re seeing here is, you’re seeing space-time being contracted. And when it gets contracted, the Refractive Index, the Permittivity of the Vacuum changes. And when that happens, what you see is this effect, where the Ground State of your atom; of your hydrogen atom, your orbs goes down.

And what this does is it’s like a trampoline, like jumping on a little trampoline. It pulls a little bit of energy out and it doesn’t even have to be that much energy, because those balls of plasma are 20 feet wide of condensed charge. They’re extremely powerful magnets.

So when you jam them together, the closer they get, that force goes up and it amplifies, to a degree where then, boom, space-time, itself breaks down. Space-time, itself breaks down and magnetic reconnection occurs when the orbs get too close because these magnetic fields, these orbs is so powerful.

Now, the last thing I want to say on the orbs, for you to understand, which is helpful, is that these are orbs of Coherent Plasma, meaning that what’s happening is the magnetic and electric fields the plasma is producing is what’s being used to make it into a sphere.

You would say, wait, what? It’s actually, itself is making the fields that keep it trapped? Yes. So what they figured out is if they move the plasma around the right way, the fields will cause the plasma to become an orb that stays coherent in the sky that can float around.

And that’s called Magnetohydrodynamics (MHD). You’ll see the acronym all over the place. They’re using controlled powerful magnetic fields to move the plasma around, keep the charge separated, the positive and the negative, so that it acts like a lightning bolt.

And then, somebody at some point figured out, “Oh, let’s just jam a few of these together and then, boom, we can make things disappear!”

The last point I want to make is, well, you’re saying it’s “teleportation”. It could probably annihilate something, as well, but for several reasons, including the phones ringing, the plane being seen later on, and all this weird dance the orbs are doing on the plane, I think it’s actual teleportation.

So what’s happening is the orbs must have an equal number of charge between the four orbs. You’ve got three orbs around the plane and you’ve got one orb somewhere else. So when this plane is being teleported – Delta, don’t sue me – and then comes back, the orbs need to cancel-out.

So, let’s say you’ve got two of the orbs are positively-charged and two are negatively-charged. When they come together, they’re going to equalize and they’re going to dissipate. That could be one configuration.

The other configuration would could be that the three orbs next to the plane all add up to one negative charge. And then, you have one positive charge, let’s say, at Diego Garcia or in the Maldives. And then, when the orbs come together, it causes them to slingshot and come together and then they appear at your new location.

That’s what these people have figured out. And it’s crazy, because it’s so far beyond our current paradigm, to think that, not only could we have figured-out gravity and have an actual working warp drive and wormhole technology, but to actually use it on an airplane that, itself is not equipped.

It’s not like it’s a Starship Enterprise. We used it on an airplane that was flying around in the sky. So this is like, you realize the implications of this, right away, as I’m sure you’ve considered. You could teleport a nuke onto somebody. This is technology that obsoletes all prior forms of weaponry.

Clayton Morris: It’s amazing to think and you have this whole battle discussion over Iran and “developing a nuclear weapon”. And in many ways, the whole thing is moot, because this technology is so far more advanced than all of that.

I want you to stick around, Ashton, if you can, and we want to move our, we’re going to do this whole Rumble Premium thing and I want to kind of open it up for a lot of people to ask questions here, if we can. But before we get there, and by the way, if you’re watching us on YouTube, come on over to Rumble. We’ve got 30,000 of you watching us live on Rumble, right now.

All the tens of thousands of you, over on YouTube, come on over to our Rumble Premium, right now, because we’re going to hang out with Ashton, if we can.

When we talk about time travel, and we talk about when you’re moving into this wormhole, are we actually jumping through time or the way that we think of time, I guess?

Ashton Forbes: Yeah, I thought you might ask me that. It’s funny, because I spent last night trying to figure that out and now, I think I have a good answer: that the wormhole itself, if you’re traveling through it, there’s no time that’s passing, no matter where the opening and closing is.

And if you follow the Principle of Least Action, this would mean that there’s never going to be any passage of time, while you’re traveling through the wormhole. And if you then put one more restriction and say that “The mouth of the wormhole cannot move.” It can only be in one spot, as in, it opens and closes and it’s not there anymore.

If you make those two restrictions, it’s no longer possible to go back in time. Reverse causality is no longer possible, no matter how you look at it. You will always, even if you go through a portal, go through a different portal, you’ll never show up at a time before you started the process.

So, in my opinion right now, having done the physics, is that there is no way for you to actually go back to a previous time in the Universe. But you can actually travel in time. Time travel is 100% real.

You can do two different things, which I think are extremely significant. You can travel to the future, number one. You can slow your rate of time, so that everything else looks like it’s speeding-up around you, to such a degree, where you could go 100 years in the future.

All of a sudden, it’s 100 years in the future, and you’re like, “Whoa, how did that happen?” It would be extremely disorienting, but you could do it.

The other thing you could do is you could reverse your biological process. You could put a bubble around yourself and reverse the entropy of inside the bubble, which is you and your age, and you could reverse your age.

Before you ask me, would you remember that? I actually asked Navy engineer Salvatore Pais this question. His opinion is you would still remember, because his belief is your consciousness is stored in the Zero-Point Energy, not – your body as just a receiver – which, I tend to agree, but obviously speculative.

Clayton Morris: That’s unbelievable. Time travel is real, and I know I’ve always wanted to talk to you more deeply about this, and we will. Ashton, thank you so much.

Watch the video here…

Time Travel Is Real and Here’s How it Works, Government Has Been Hiding It | Redacted

Laugh-in and being “very interesting”

Back in the 1960’s, oh when I was in elementary school, we kids would watch television after school… then came dinner.

After dinner the adult shows came on. Not “adult” in terms of XXX rated and porn. But really, just shows that our parents would watch, but that us kids were uninterested in.

The top show at that time was a show called “Laugh In”.

“Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In” (often simply called “Laugh-In”) was a groundbreaking American sketch comedy television show that aired from 1968 to 1973 on NBC. It became a cultural phenomenon in the late 1960s and early 1970s, blending rapid-fire jokes, political satire, and surreal humor in a way that was fresh and revolutionary for its time. Here’s a breakdown of what made it so popular and some of its most memorable skits and routines:

What Made “Laugh-In” So Popular?

Fast-Paced, High-Energy Format:
- “Laugh-In” was known for its quick cuts, rapid-fire jokes, and nonstop energy. It felt like a comedy explosion, with jokes, one-liners, and visual gags coming at the audience in rapid succession.
Political and Social Satire:
- The show wasn’t afraid to tackle the political and social issues of the day, including the Vietnam War, civil rights, and the counterculture movement. It used humor to comment on current events, making it both timely and relevant.
Catchphrases and Running Gags:
- “Laugh-In” introduced a slew of catchphrases that entered the popular lexicon, such as:
  - “Sock it to me!”

“You bet your sweet bippy!”

“Very interesting”

Innovative Use of Television:
- The show broke the mold of traditional TV comedy with its use of quick cuts, psychedelic visuals, and breaking the fourth wall. It felt modern and experimental, appealing to younger audiences.
Diverse Cast of Comedic Talent:
- The show featured a mix of established comedians and fresh faces, including:
  - Dan Rowan and Dick Martin (the hosts).
  - Goldie Hawn (who became a breakout star).
  - Lily Tomlin.
  - Arte Johnson.
  - Ruth Buzzi.
  - Jo Anne Worley.
  - Henry Gibson.
  - Judy Carne.
Celebrity Cameos:
- “Laugh-In” frequently featured guest appearances by celebrities, politicians, and public figures, including Richard Nixon, who famously appeared in 1968 to say, “Sock it to me?” in an attempt to appear hip and relatable.

Memorable Skits and Routines

The Joke Wall:

One of the most iconic segments, the Joke Wall featured cast members popping their heads through holes in a wall to deliver one-liners and puns. It was fast, silly, and endlessly entertaining.

The Cocktail Party:
- In this recurring sketch, the cast mingled at a party, delivering absurd and often nonsensical dialogue. Arte Johnson’s character, Tyrone F. Horneigh, would often flirt with Ruth Buzzi’s Gladys Ormphby, leading to hilariously awkward moments.
The Farkel Family:

A parody of wholesome family sitcoms, the Farkel Family sketches featured the cast as a bizarre, dysfunctional family with over-the-top antics.

Arte Johnson’s German Soldier:
- Arte Johnson played a bumbling German soldier who would pop up in random places, deliver a punchline, and then get hit by a prop or fall over. His catchphrase, “Verrry interesting… but stupid!” became a classic.
Lily Tomlin’s Characters:
- Lily Tomlin created several unforgettable characters, including:

Ernestine, the snarky telephone operator who would say, “One ringy-dingy, two ringy-dingy…”

Edith Ann, a precocious little girl who sat in a giant rocking chair and shared her hilariously naive observations.

The Flying Fickle Finger of Fate Award:

This segment awarded a “prize” to individuals or organizations that had done something particularly ridiculous or outrageous. It was a sharp piece of satire that poked fun at real-world absurdities.

Mod, Mod World:

A psychedelic segment featuring the cast in colorful, mod outfits dancing and delivering jokes against a trippy, kaleidoscopic background. It captured the spirit of the 1960s counterculture.

The News Segment:
- A parody of news broadcasts, featuring Henry Gibson as a poet who delivered absurd, rhyming commentary on current events.

Cultural Impact

“Laugh-In” was more than just a TV show; it was a reflection of the changing times. It embraced the irreverence and experimentation of the 1960s, appealing to both young and old audiences.
The show’s influence can be seen in later sketch comedy programs like “Saturday Night Live” and “In Living Color.”
It also played a role in shaping political discourse, using humor to engage with serious issues in a way that was accessible and entertaining.

Legacy

“Laugh-In” remains a beloved piece of television history, remembered for its bold humor, innovative style, and unforgettable characters. Its impact on comedy and pop culture is still felt today, and its sketches and catchphrases continue to be referenced and celebrated.

…

Guys, it was part of the society at that time. Some of the jokes still “hold water”, but much of it is dated and reflects a strange time in American society.

*sigh*

Today…

China actively delinks from the US

With today’s report that Chinese airlines and state-owned corporations have been instructed to stop taking delivery of Boeing airliners and US-made aircraft parts, we can now be sure that Beijing has decided to actively delink from US suppliers and partners.

Bloomberg and CNBC reported that there has been no written directive from the Chinese report. The fact is that these directives are NEVER written; they are delivered by phone call from the Chinese government’s Central Committee. The fact that it is from the Central Committee means that this is not Xi’s personal decision; this is joint consensus among Committee members.

Boeing and US aircraft parts manufacturers were counting on the Chinese market to support their growth over the next two decades; now that is gone.

The question now is how Boeing is going to survive the next two decades.

The same is happening to US farmers, because China is now not buying US soybeans and other farm products. The leading US food processors will also suffer.

China is now instructing local companies to shift away from selling to the US, as it is no longer considered a reliable partner for trade and manufacturing. This means that they will diversify sales and trade to other markets.

What the f*ck is happening in New York City..

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Quacking Sensation

Ah, dear reader, welcome back to my ever-growing collection of tales! Today’s story is one of bewilderment, farmyard hysteria, and an unrefined quack that somehow managed to sweep the farm into a frenzy. Yes, you read that correctly—a quack. It is a tale of misplaced admiration, an unstoppable ego, and, of course, my valiant efforts to restore order (and sanity) to the farm. Prepare yourself for the absurdly funny and utterly perplexing tale of Sir Whiskerton and the Quacking Sensation.

Meet Ferdinand the Duck

It all began one sunny morning, as most of these stories do. I was enjoying a quiet moment near the barn, basking in the warmth of the sun and savoring the sound of the gentle breeze rustling through the trees. All was peaceful… until it wasn’t.

“Quack, quack, quaaaaaaaack!”

The sound pierced the air like a rusty hinge on an un-oiled gate. I winced, my ears flattening against my head.

“What in the name of whiskers was that?” I muttered, looking toward the pond.

There, standing atop a rock and puffing out his feathery chest, was Ferdinand the duck. He flapped his wings dramatically, tilted his head back, and unleashed another cacophonous “quaaaaaack!”

Before I could cover my sensitive ears, a crowd of farm animals had gathered around the pond.

“Oh, Ferdinand!” Doris the hen clucked. “Your voice is simply divine!”
“Divine! But also so powerful!” Harriet added.
“Powerful! Oh, it’s like nothing I’ve ever heard!” Lillian screeched.
“Like nothing we’ve ever heard!” Doris echoed.

Porkchop waddled over, his eyes wide with admiration. “That’s not just quacking—it’s art. Ferdinand, you’ve got a gift!”

“Gifted? Oh, please,” Rufus said, rolling his eyes. “He’s just quacking like any other duck.”

But the others weren’t listening. Ferdinand flapped his wings again, basking in the adoration of his newfound fans.

“Thank you, thank you,” he said, bowing dramatically. “I’ve always known I was different. Some might call me a prodigy. A once-in-a-generation talent.”

I groaned, rubbing my temples with my paw. This was going to be a long day.

The Duck’s Rising Fame

Within hours, Ferdinand’s fame had spread across the farm. Everywhere I went, I heard animals singing his praises (pun intended).

“Such perfect pitch!” Doris clucked.
“Such fine vocal technique!” Harriet added.
“Such amazing timbre!” Lillian screeched.

“Such nonsense,” I muttered under my breath.

By lunchtime, Ferdinand had assembled a group of loyal “duck groupies” who followed him everywhere, clapping their wings and shouting his name.

“Ferdinand! Ferdinand! Give us another quack!”

“Oh, very well,” Ferdinand said, tilting his head back dramatically. “I suppose I could grace you with an encore.”

“Quack, quack, quaaaaaaaack!”

The groupies erupted into cheers, stomping their feet and squawking in delight. Meanwhile, I was busy trying not to claw my own ears off.

A Private Word with Ferdinand

Unable to take it any longer, I decided it was time to have a word with the so-called singing sensation. I found Ferdinand lounging on a hay bale, surrounded by his adoring fans.

“Ferdinand,” I said, clearing my throat.

“Ah, Sir Whiskerton,” Ferdinand said, waving a wing. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Come to praise my voice, have you?”

“Not exactly,” I said, sitting down and curling my tail around my paws. “Ferdinand, don’t you think all this… attention is a bit much for what is, quite frankly, just quacking?”

“Just quacking?” Ferdinand gasped, clutching his chest as if I’d insulted his very soul.

“Just quacking?!” Doris squawked, stepping forward. “Oh, Sir Whiskerton, how could you say such a thing?”
“Such a thing! Oh, it’s blasphemous!” Harriet clucked.
“Blasphemous! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched.

“Enough,” I said, holding up a paw. “I didn’t mean to offend, but surely we can all agree that Ferdinand’s ‘singing’ is… subjective, at best.”

“Subjective?” Ferdinand said, narrowing his eyes. “Sir Whiskerton, you simply don’t understand art. Perhaps your refined tastes have dulled your appreciation for raw talent.”

“Raw is right,” I muttered under my breath.

The Unexpected Plot Twist

Just as I was preparing to argue further, a new sound interrupted us. It was a low, mournful howl, followed by a series of high-pitched yips. The entire barnyard fell silent, and all eyes turned toward Bingo the dog, who had been quietly napping in the corner.

“Bingo?” I said, tilting my head.

Bingo stood up, his tail wagging nervously. “Oh, uh… sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. It’s just… well, sometimes when Ferdinand quacks, it makes me want to… you know, howl.”

“To howl?” Doris squawked.
“Howl?! Oh, how unusual!” Harriet clucked.
“Unusual! Oh, I can’t bear the suspense!” Lillian cried.

“Maybe Bingo has a point,” I said, my whiskers twitching with amusement. “Why don’t we let him sing a duet with Ferdinand?”

“A duet?!” Ferdinand squawked, looking horrified. “You want me to share the spotlight with… a dog?”

“Why not?” I said with a smirk. “Surely a talent like yours can handle a little competition.”

The Duet Disaster

Reluctantly, Ferdinand agreed to the duet, and the entire farm gathered to watch. Ferdinand began with his usual “quack, quack, quaaaaaaaack,” and Bingo joined in with a loud, soulful howl.

The result was… well, let’s just say it was unique. The combination of Ferdinand’s screechy quacks and Bingo’s off-key howls sent shivers down my spine—not the good kind.

By the time they finished, the entire barnyard was in stunned silence.

“Well,” Porkchop said, scratching his head. “That was… something.”

“Something! But what was it?!” Doris clucked.
“What?! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian cried.

Ferdinand, however, looked pleased. “Thank you, thank you,” he said, bowing. “I believe we’ve just invented a new genre of music. I call it ‘Quack-n-Howl.’”

The Moral of the Story

In the end, Ferdinand’s fame continued to grow, and while his “singing” still grated on my nerves, I couldn’t deny that it brought the farm together in its own ridiculous way. The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: sometimes, it’s not about talent or skill—it’s about confidence and the joy you bring to others. And while I may never understand the appeal of a quacking duck, I’ve learned to appreciate the laughter it brings.

As for Ferdinand? Well, I suspect we haven’t heard the last of him. Until next time, my friends.

The End.

AC/DC – Back In Black, if it was recorded in the 50s

This is completely and absolutely surreal.

Everyone at first thought ‘Made in China 2030’ list, was real. But recent events suggest otherwise. Can China actually do it? Can China really make its own aeroplanes, semiconductors, electric cars, etc., by 2030, just 5 years from now?

Let’s see the list of Chinese achievements between 2015–2025

Indigenous Fighter Aircraft Engines
Indigenous On board Radar
Indigenous Avionics
Indigenous Wind Tunnel
Indigenous Commercial Aircraft Body (Duralium)
Indigenous Aircraft Wheels
Indigenous Landing Gear
Full Dominance in Legacy Chips (<= 45 nm Node process) manufacturing
Dominance in Chip Design (Upto 3 nm)
Indigenous Stealth Technology
Indigenous Rare Earth Refining dominance
Indigenous Green Energy Technologies – Hydrogen, Batteries
Indigenous Nuclear Technology
Indigenous Satellite design & manufacturing
Indigenous Satellite Constellation and Navigation
Indigenous 5G Equipment and Communications edge

China has achieved “Par” or even “Dominant” Status in all these areas in the last decade

Here is the list of things China aims to develop Par Status by 2035:-

Optical Instruments & Opto electronics
Manufacturing Dominance in Non Legacy Chips (7–28 nm Node Process)
Indigenous supply chain for GPU Chips
Indigenous 6G Equipment and Communications edge
MRI Machines
Immunotherapy Drugs for Cancer & Auto Immune Diseases
Commercial Aircraft Engines
Commercial Aircraft Body (Composite Materials)
Hypersonic Missiles
Advanced Stealth Technology

I see no reason why China can’t achieve their demands between 2025–2035

Hot Damn! It’s The Soggy Bottom Boys! | O Brother, Where Art Thou? (2000) | TUNE

Plaga Iuventae: A Debt to Pay, Part 1

Submitted into Contest #207 in response to: A journalist has been granted permission to visit the premises of a lab carrying out top-secret work. They could never have anticipated what they’d find…… view prompt

Steffen Lettau

Author’s note: This is the first half of the full story, as it would exceed the maximum word count.It is a unique and perplexing privilege for a journalist like me to put my life on the line, whether it is interviewing a serial killer in his own cell, a former member of a crime syndicate in his own house, or even a politician that might be marked for death…or marking me for my death, as I do tend to pry. Hey, I’m a journalist; the worst is that I die.But I prefer to die quickly, as opposed to something like poison or lynching. And even though I am no germaphobe, getting sick and falling to the whims of a bacteria or virus has never been settling. So, why did I volunteer to go to the lab of one of the most hunted virologists on the planet? Well, technically, I didn’t know it was his lab.Sorry, let me start from the top; I am Ian Sung, a journalist from Seoul, South Korea. A damned good one, I might add; I speak six languages including English, I’ve been to every first world country and a dozen third world countries, I have helped to expose dictators and criminal organizations from drug peddlers and exotic animal trading to child trafficking, and I have escaped several gunfights from paramilitary to police and gangbangers. Overall, I’m one lucky sonofabitch, and I have the money and awards to prove it. But there was one story that stood above the rest.Fair warning: what you are about to hear is disturbing but true, for I was there to personally interview the infamous “Doctor Plague”.Everyone was practically after this man, from the local police to every single government around the world, dead or alive. Hell, thanks to the large bounty on his head, just about every human being alive was keeping an eye out for him. Every day, a bulletin was made about any information on the subject, and a witness or two would report what they thought was the doctor and where he might be. So far, he remained elusive. Now, how did I find him?I didn’t. He found me.For legal reasons, and because I want to stay employed, I will not be giving out the name of the outlet from where I work, nor will I divulge any names outside of my own, the doctor’s, or any names mentioned by the doctor; with that, I will refer my employer as “Boss”, my friend and coworker “KC”, all witnesses by number and all officers by letter. I will, however, divulge the names of places and projects, as people have a right to know the locations (except where it is classified by either government or by the wishes of an individual).One witness, Witness 1, reached our news outlet to let us know that he swore seeing the Doctor Plague himself somewhere near the city hall in our fair Salem, Oregon. Initially, I brought up that such was impossible, as stated in a recording left by the doctor himself – a lengthy tape record becoming the final notice left at his former residence (I made a copy for posterity) – “I will be avoiding cities as much as possible*…”Still, Boss wasn’t about to let a potential sighting go to waste, and needed someone to go interview Witness 1 personally. He would send KC with me, as she would be driving both me and Camera-Man in her personal van (most industry workers that made our vans were dead, amongst the other two billion lives because of the “plaga iuventae”, or commonly called Plakkim’s Disease (not a conventional disease, but let’s not digress). Boss made it clear that I should not return without something solid, and if I could find more witnesses or leads (which I will also refer to with numbers and not names), I was to get the statements, describe all pieces of evidence (giving such to the police, of course), and explore even the Plague Doctor’s former residence and place of work. I mentioned that no one could get into the workplace without authorization, to which he responded, “Pitch a tent outside if you have to!”

Maybe I should call him “Hard-Ass” instead?

My team and I stopped at the local library, just so I could gather a few books and articles on viruses, genetic symptoms, and malpractices throughout history. Afterwards, we stopped at the apartment residence of Witness 1, who was eagerly waiting outside. I wanted to get as much information as possible, so I planned to pry as many names out of him as possible. Camera-Man set up his equipment, making sure to keep the camera pointed away from the complex, as well as any street signs that would lead anyone to the witness. Witness one didn’t mind showing his face to the camera, so long as we didn’t release his name. KC monitored her equipment, recording and setting the proper tones and digital lighting on her personal computer, connected wirelessly to both Camera-Man’s camera and my microphone.

After introductions between only us (anonymity, mind you), I asked my questions and got these answers:

“You have lived here long?”

“Yessem, since I was a kid.”

“I see. And has this recent epidemic affected you?”

“Not personally, sir. There were people that I have grown up with that recently passed away, mainly because of that treatment, that so-called ‘cure’, and it was horrible, from what I heard.”

“Do you know about Blake Plakkim, a.k.a ‘Doctor Plague’, the man responsible for that?”

“Yessem, but I think his organization was responsible far more than him. He had not done all this by his lonesome, you know.”

“Have you talked with anyone from Blake’s organization?”

“No. I avoid that place like the plague…no pun intended.”

“But you did claim to the outlet that you saw Doctor Plakkim?”

“Yessim. All hooded up and moving inconspicuously at the supermarket where I shop, but the face was familiar from the depiction on T.V.”

“I see. One more question; is there anyone else who may have seen him, or anyone that would have more information on him?”

“None I know of. You could try talking to the mayor; she might know something.”

Wrapping up, I reflected on that organization, Blake’s former workplace. Mentioning it to KC, she agreed to a drive-by sight-seeing of the place; upon doing so, we saw that more security was there than usual, like someone dropped off a military compound around the building. We decided to try that place last, and went to see the mayor.

Surprisingly, she was willing to do an interview, so long as we just referred to her as “Mrs. Mayor”, and her personal guard as “Witness 2.” Before the interview, Witness 2 warned me not to pry too deeply, as Mrs. Mayor had recently lost her husband and both parents to the disease, or the interview was off.

“Mrs. Mayor, thank you for having us. These times are hard on everyone, and all we want is to conclude this nightmare with justice and peace of mind.”

I immediately thought that I had gone too far, but she smiled and nodded. Witness 2 kept watch over me, ready to answer when it was his turn.

“Mrs. Mayor, when this…event happened, did you want to launch an investigation into Blake’s organization?”

“I did. I was recommended against it, given how it was a corporation with federal ties, and I was just a mayor of Salem. I pushed that notion aside, and I went to their front door and demanded to talk to someone.”

“Did you?”

“Not for a few days.”

I nodded. “And you, Witness 2, you mentioned a certain incident? One that you swore involved the spitting image of Blake Plakkim?”

“It WAS Blake! He was moving around the parking lot, and he was looking for something.”

“Which was…?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t call it ‘something’. If I had to guess, it was the Mayor’s car.”

“You checked her car?”

“Wouldn’t be much of a guard if I didn’t. Her safety is my concern.”

I took it that this Witness 2 didn’t like me very much. Probably bad press, or whatever excuse gets thrown our way. I turned back to Mrs. Mayor:

“What happened after a few days?”

“Well, after my guard chased away someone from my car, I received a call from a ‘Harrold Tooms’, wanting to talk to me. Not inside his building, nor mine, but somewhere in public. Uh, a restaurant, actually!”

I wrote down the name. “This Harrold a lawyer or a manager? Did he know Blake?”

“He didn’t say anything beyond being a representative. He was willing to divulge quite a bit about Plakkim…that is, about the man and not much about his work. Oh, he did mention about the plague being an attempt at a cure!”

At this, she suddenly went silent, and turned to a picture frame upon her desk. Immediately, Witness 2 stepped between us and her: the interview was immediately over.

I thanked Mrs. Mayor for her time and the opportunity to talk with her and Witness 2. She smiled after I assured her that we would get to the bottom of all of this, and she wished us luck. Witness 2, on the other hand, wished us to get the huff out. Yeah, you know the actual word, but my work is G-rated.

PG at worst.

Coming outside, we found a note under the van’s wiper blades. KC freaked out, thinking it was a parking ticket, but I took it off and saw that it was a note:

GOT SEOUL, MAN? GRAM, ANA.

I looked around. KC freaked out again, and Camera-Man actually went into the van and pulled out a tire iron. Aside from the passerby, a few looking on us curiously, there wasn’t anyone close by. We decided to hit up a hotel for the night.

Morning came, and I was first to rise and dress. Looking at the note, I pondered about who this Ana person was. And then, it hit me!

Ana Gram…anagram! And if that’s the case, then the initial message was not some random threat or lead, but was an attempt to reach us! But for what, and to where? Clearly, the message was directed to me, but then there was the part about the anagram, so I had to rearrange the letters.

The best I got was “atoms lounge”. Something about it seemed familiar…

Snap! Of course! The Atom Bistro and Coffee Bar! I’ve been there before. Apparently, so had the messenger, which also meant that this person was following us. Was it Blake, or someone who knew him? Was it someone who wanted to find him? Maybe it was some sleuth, working with the authorities. Or maybe it was a bounty hunter, even an assassin, and this person was using us to find Blake. I checked my watch: 6:22 A.M. Time for a drive to breakfast.

We arrived at nine on the dot; Camera-Man had a lot to drain out at the hotel. So did KC, but don’t tell her that. Anyways, we were at our own table, having ordered breakfast, when the waitress asked us if there was a fourth member joining us. Surprised, I told her that we weren’t expecting anyone, and she left with our orders. Now, bear with me, here is where things get alarming.

Blake Plakkim sat at our table.

Initially, someone with a poncho-style hooded sweater just sat himself beside me, opposite Camera-Man and KC. I was about to interject, to ask him to leave, when he hissed this warning to all three of us: “Don’t speak, or I open this.” At that moment, he placed what I could only describe as a spherical case between me and him.

A few minutes later, the waitress came over and inquired if there was a problem. When no one answered, I stepped in and said that there was a mistake, that someone was joining us for breakfast as part of our interview for the network. She smiled and asked the newcomer for his order, which he gave courteously as if he didn’t walk in here with a potential explosive. When she left, Blake turned to look at me, and all I could say was, “Doctor Plague?”

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t ever call me that again! My name is Doctor Blake Plakkim. Now… got Seoul, man?”

Now my eyes narrowed. A pun at our literal expense, in a public place. “I…am Korean, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

Blake smiled. “More than that, you’re a journalist. A well-respected one named Ian Sung. I’ve followed your work.”

I nodded. “And now you’re literally following me. You do know you’re a wanted man?”

“Heh. What else is new?”

I sighed. “What do you want?”

He turned away from me, his eyes upon the table as his hood would obscure the rest of his face. “It’s what I can give you. To the world. But I need to do this my way. Not the government’s. Not the organization’s. Not yours.”

The breakfast came, and I was perplexed at how fast Blake ate with one hand on a fork and the other on the case. Meanwhile, Camera-Man and KC ate diligently, watching the both of us. I ate with reluctance, feeling the case on my thigh at all times. Afterwards, we sat there quietly as I paid the bill, only asking one question:

“Is any of this wise, with all the eyes of the world looking for you to either arrest or kill?”

He shifted himself up from the seat, dragging the case with him. “I can’t run and hide forever if I want the truth out. You have the access, the reputation, and now you have my attention. I’ll give you all the information you’ll need, even access to my new lab, but only you and your two associates. Tell no one except your network what happened here. No cops, no strangers, and no ‘associates’ of mine.” Before he left, he left me another note, this one sealed. “This is a letter to your boss. Make sure only he sees it.”

He walked out, inconspicuous as described.

This shocking visitation left us in that restaurant for another half-hour before we hurried back to the van (I checked the whole vehicle over for anything, whether from Blake or not). Another three hours later, we were all in front of Boss, and I handed him the note and told him that only he was to read it. He nodded, the opportunity of a lifetime basically in his hands; how he would play this out was up to him. He excused me, saying that he would let me know what he’ll want next.

Another call came to our outlet, and Boss’s secretary came for me rather than to the hard-ass. I told her to take a message, but she insisted that the person on the line would not hold for anyone except me, and he had information regarding Blake Plakkim. Honestly, after meeting the man, I wanted a break, but I decided to humor the secretary and I took the phone, asking, “Hello, this is Ian Sung, how may I help you?”

“Hello,” said a soothing deep voice, “I am Harrold Tooms. May I have a moment of your time?”

*from the first Plaga Iuventae.

Chinas Growing Military Power SHOCKS USA: War is Coming w/ Col. Zhou Bo

What funny but slightly inappropriate thing has happened to you?

I was at the grocery store. Maybe it was a case of being at the right place at the right time, but still….

So what happened? Well, the stuff that the woman wanted was on the very top of the shelf, she tried to “whack it down” with her cane. Instead, they went back behind, way out of reach. Well, this guy asked her “Ma’am? Which one did you want?” She pointed it with her cane.

This guy (taller than both of us but still short), climbed up and grabbed (she wanted 2) and using one hand to try to bend over to give her two cans, lost his balance, and he grabbed the first thing he could, I was wearing a tank top, so he grabbed my tank top and my bra, ripping it as he lost his balance (but I broke his fall by “catching him”).

By this time the Store Meat Manager (he saw what happened), rushed over. The guy was fine, but the first thing he said was

“OOPSIE MA’AM, I DIDN’T MEAN TO POP YOUR BOOBY!”

I had to pull my tank top up (he broke my bra and the upper right side “strap” of the tank top), using my arm to hold “what’s left of it” to cover my boob!

Meat Manager, he was red-faced and pulled me over behind the display rack (canned goods) and ordered an employee to grab something. It was a spare t-shirt, size XXXL, with the store and the slogan saying ‘I’VE GOT THE BIG MEATS’

REALLY? I am sorry but customers and a couple of other employees who saw this guy almost crashing to the floor… were cracking up!

That same guy, he wasn’t hurt, but he was still embarrassed, pulled out his wallet and a bill folded up into my hand and he left the store (leaving his few items behind). I thought maybe it was $5 or $10 to replace the bra and tank top. I really didn’t need it, so I just put it in my shorts pocket and totally forgotten about it.

FAST FORWARD: I didn’t put those shorts on for a long time, I wore them for about 2 hours, and just folded them up and put them in the drawer. Once winter was over, we were all going to go fishing, I pulled those shorts out and there was the bill, still in my pocket, and I laughed – couldn’t believe I had forgotten it, but when I opened it up, it was a $100.00 bill!

Wife Craved So Much Drama She Framed A Neighbor For Her “Neighborhood Cheating Board”, Now She’s…

At what point did you realize no one cares about you?

It was the summer of 1975. I was 14, home alone, parents at work. Three boys from the local high school came over saying they wanted to visit with my older brother who was due home soon from his summer job. It was considered polite in the US south to invite guests inside and offer them a cold drink, which I did. What happened over the next 30 minutes is something unspeakable. Fast forward to the beginning of the school year in September. I told nobody what occurred because in our small, southern town, girls who were “loose” were ostracized and considered tainted. If my parents had found out they would now have a ruined daughter. Uneated food on lunch trays was dumped on me while sitting alone in the cafeteria, my former friends began calling me vile names and I was suddenly an an island living an isolated life. 50 years ago kids who were abused had no outlet like counseling. I was 14.

In my 20’s I went to the library and found books that explained the trauma I went through. They explained that I was a victim and should feel no shame since I was attacked. They helped me somewhat but didn’t help with the night terrors and my trust issues which continue to this day at age 63. It was a long time ago this happened. I’m much better but only trust a handful of people. The boys didn’t do so well in life. One died at age 33 and the other two are losers. That day almost 50 years ago was a hard lesson that showed me no one cared. I am a success today because when one has been so low I found internal strength to survive.

Roasted Pork and Potato Duet

Yield: 10 servings

Ingredients

2 teaspoons rubbed sage
1 garlic clove, pressed
1 teaspoon dried thyme leaves
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 center loin pork roast, rolled and tied (3 1/2 to 4 pounds)
1 1/2 pounds sweet potatoes, cut into fourths (2 to 3 large)
1 1/2 pounds russet potatoes, cut into large chunks (3 to 4 medium)

Instructions

Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
In Small Batter Bowl, combine sage, garlic, thyme, salt and black pepper. Rub all but 2 teaspoons of the herb mixture evenly over the surface of pork roast.
Place roast in Rectangular Baker. Toss potatoes with remaining herb mixture; arrange potatoes around roast. Cover with Rectangular Lid/Bowl.
Bake 1 hour, 15 minutes. Using Oven Mitts, pull out oven rack and carefully remove Lid/Bowl from Baker, lifting away from you.
Bake roast and potatoes, uncovered, 15-30 minutes or until Pocket Thermometer inserted into meat registers 155 degrees F for medium or 165 degrees F for well done.
Remove potatoes to serving platter; set aside.
Remove roast to cutting board. Loosely tent with aluminum foil. Let roast stand 10 minutes before carving.

Nutrition

Per serving: Calories 580, Total Fat 25g, Sodium 390mg, Fiber 4g

Attribution

Pampered Chef

The Dark Truth Behind This Classic Twilight Zone Episode

Great episode.

Finished putting insulation and ceiling in Power shed

Hal Turner World January 05, 2025

My son was up this weekend and he finished putting in the 2″ x 6″ ceiling joists and the R-30 Insulation in the roof of the solar power shed.

Readers may recall that a couple weeks ago, when the temps went down to -3°F here in northeast PA, the battery temperature of the Lithium Iron Phosphate battery rack dropped down to 28 or 26 degrees.

That is perfectly fine for the batteries to continue supplying power, if they had to, but definitely NOT OK if any charging is, or might, take place.

Apparently, when Lithium batteries reach 32 degrees, if you try to charge them, it __could__ result in something called “lithium plating.”

From Google:

Lithium plating is a process that occurs in lithium-ion batteries when lithium ions build up on the surface of the anode instead of being inserted into the graphite particles. This can happen when the battery is charged too quickly or at a low temperature, which can cause the lithium ions to move too fast or too slowly, respectively.

Lithium plating can have a catastrophic impact on the battery's performance, safety, and lifetime.  Some signs of lithium plating include: A gradual decrease in discharge voltage and An increase in anode resistance.

Lithium plating can be prevented by charging the battery at the right temperature, which is between 41°F and 113°F (5°C and 45°C). If the battery is being used in an electric vehicle, it may not be possible to charge it within this temperature range, so it may need to be pre-heated.

I wonder how many TESLA Drivers knew about THAT little gem of inconvenience when they bought those pricey electric cars?

Anyway, at the time, we put a “Torpedo” heater in that shed. It ran off kerosene and we were able to select a temperature of 50 degrees on the heater’s thermostat to keep the shed warm.

By the way, the “shed” is a cement block building, with rebar, bond-beams, and a cement roof. The roof was poured onto galvanized, corrugated, steel. So the steel which was bare on the inside of the shed, acted as a sort of heat-sink; causing any heat in the shed to just flow out of it.

Last weekend, we bought a “Froth Kit” and applied spray foam to the inside of the roof, totally covering the exposed metal. That would serve to “break” the heat-sink. But spray foam only has an R-value of about 1 or 2. So we also bought 2″ x 6″ lumber to put in an actual ceiling, with R-30 fiberglass “bats” between the joists. That’s the work we finally got done this weekend.

So now, we’re as ready as we know how to be for this “Polar Vortex” that’s already arrived into the central USA, and which is forecast to affect pretty much the entire east coast this week.

I still have the “Torpedo” heater if needed, but with all the new insulation, it may NOT be needed. We’ll just have to wait and see.

You know, when I decided to go with this solar stuff, it was a STEEP learning curve. I thought we had gotten through it, until the intense cold came a couple weeks ago. The learning curve cropped-up again.

Lucky me!

/sarcasm

Global Currencies Are CRASHING: Major US Banks Warn $3,000 Gold In 2025 – What This Means

Shorpy Pictures

Former SG Minister EXPOSES Propaganda Against China

Will Russia’s defeat in Ukraine lead finally to the dissolution of the Russian Federation as everybody outside Russia so dearly hopes for?

There is no sign that Russia will be defeated in Ukraine. All signs point to a victory for Russia in Ukraine.

The German publication Spiegel writes that the Ukrainian Armed Forces’ attempt to organize counterattacks in the Kursk region is an act of despair, since the Ukrainians are suffering defeat in all other directions. In particular, in the last few days alone, the Ukrainian Armed Forces were driven out of three villages near Pokrovsk: Dachenskoye, Novy Trud, and Volkovo. All of them are located south of Pokrovsk, so now the advanced units of the Russian army are only 3 km south of the city.

Even Zelensky reluctantly acknowledged the success of the Russian offensive in the Pokrovsk direction. In a television interview, he explained this, first of all, by the lack of reserves of the Ukrainian army.

“We are doing everything possible to ensure that the front is stabilized in January,” he said. But instead of sending additional reserves to the Pokrovsk direction, he is throwing them into the Kursk region.

According to The Telegraph, the Ukrainians, in desperation, are throwing the most modern equipment there, of which the Ukrainian Armed Forces have very little left. In particular, Challenger 2 tanks: video recordings of a Russian drone strike destroying a British tank have already appeared.

All negative news for Ukraine.

The best thing for Ukraine to do would be to join Russia. After all, they are both of Slavic ethnicity. The west would then not be able to press Ukraine to repay the hundreds of billions that they have spent on Ukraine and Russia can tell BlackRock to get the hell out of Ukraine. It will also mean that a Ukrainian can become the president of Russia in future and the coal and Lithium deposits in eastern Ukraine will still be a part of Ukraine, since Ukraine would be a part of Russia. And it would ensure no more fights between Russia and Ukraine.

Helter Skelter, but it’s Rockabilly… (I got blisters on my fingers!)

The Beatles song. WTF?

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Turkey Trouble

Ah, dear reader, you’re just in time for what I assure you is one of the most absurd and comical adventures yet. Today’s tale involves a turkey named Ethel—bless her birdbrain—and a mystery that takes us across farms, into the clutches of that scoundrel Catnip, and straight into the world of Thanksgiving dinner plans. As always, with the help of my loyal farmyard companions, a bit of wit, and a touch of luck, we’ll find a happy ending to this feather-brained predicament. Settle in for the hilarity-filled story of Sir Whiskerton and the Turkey Trouble.

Meet Ethel: The Not-So-Bright Turkey

It was a crisp autumn morning, and the farm was abuzz with activity. The hens were gossiping about their molting patterns, Porkchop was rolling in his favorite mud puddle, and Rufus was busy sneaking bites of the farmer’s leftover pumpkin pie. Meanwhile, I, Sir Whiskerton, was observing everything from my perch on the fence, enjoying the smell of fallen leaves and hay.

That’s when I first noticed her: Ethel, the turkey, waddling across the barnyard with a look of blissful ignorance plastered across her face. She was… how do I put this delicately? Not the sharpest feather in the flock. With each step, she pecked at the ground, gobbling up the enormous pile of turkey feed the farmer had laid out for her.

“Oh, Whiskerton! Isn’t this just wonderful?” Ethel said, her voice high-pitched and bubbly. She paused mid-waddle to look at me, her head tilting so far to the side I wondered how she didn’t topple over.

“What’s wonderful, Ethel?” I asked, my whiskers twitching with curiosity.

“All this food!” she said, gesturing wildly with her wings. “The farmer’s been giving me more and more every day. I think he’s planning something special for me. Maybe a party! Or… or… maybe I’m going to be named ‘Turkey of the Year’ at the Thanksgiving feast!”

I blinked. “Ethel… you do realize what Thanksgiving dinner usually involves, don’t you?”

“Of course!” she said, puffing out her chest. “It involves me being the star of the show! Oh, I can’t wait! I’ve been practicing my strut for weeks.”

I sighed. This was going to be harder than I thought.

Sounding the Alarm

I called an urgent meeting with the rest of the farm animals to discuss Ethel’s predicament. Everyone gathered in the barn: the hens (Doris, Harriet, and Lillian), Porkchop, Rufus, Sedgwick the wise old owl, and even Bingo the dog.

“Friends,” I began, pacing in front of the group, “we have a problem. Ethel the turkey is being fatted up for Thanksgiving dinner.”

“What?! Oh, not Ethel!” Porkchop exclaimed, his eyes wide.
“Not Ethel! Oh, how dreadful!” Doris squawked.
“Dreadful! But what can we do?!” Harriet clucked.
“Do?! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian cried.

“Enough,” I said, holding up a paw to silence the chaos. “The problem is, Ethel doesn’t understand what’s happening. She thinks the farmer is rewarding her. We need to convince her to leave the farm—before it’s too late.”

“I’ll talk to her,” Sedgwick said, his amber eyes gleaming. “She respects wisdom.”

Sedgwick flew down to Ethel, who was still happily munching on a pile of grain. “Ethel,” he began, “you must flee. The farmer—”

“Oh, Sedgwick!” Ethel interrupted, clapping her wings together. “Have you ever tasted this grain? It’s so buttery. I think the farmer’s giving me a special diet to make my feathers shinier for the celebration!”

Sedgwick sighed and flew back, shaking his head. “She’s… not very receptive.”

“I’ll try!” Porkchop said, waddling over to Ethel. “Ethel, listen. You’ve got to leave. The farmer’s plans for you aren’t what you think!”

“Oh, Porkchop,” Ethel said with a giggle, “I think you’re just jealous because you’re not the star of the Thanksgiving dinner.”

Porkchop waddled back, muttering under his breath. “Hopeless.”

A Feather-Brained Escape Plan

After several failed attempts to reason with Ethel, I decided it was time for action. “If she won’t leave on her own,” I said, “we’ll have to help her escape.”

The plan was simple: distract the farmer, lure Ethel out of the barnyard, and guide her to safety. Rufus volunteered to create the distraction (which mostly involved stealing the farmer’s hat and running in circles), while the rest of us worked together to lead Ethel toward the woods.

“Where are we going?” Ethel asked as we nudged her along. “Is this a surprise party? Oh, I love surprises!”

“Yes, yes, a party,” I said, my patience wearing thin. “Just keep walking.”

We managed to get her past the barnyard and into the woods, but then disaster struck. Ethel, distracted by a shiny pebble, wandered off the path and straight onto the neighboring farm—Catnip’s farm.

Catnip Strikes Again

“Ah, Whiskerton,” Catnip purred, emerging from behind a hay bale. “How delightful to see you. And who’s this?”

“This is Ethel,” I said warily. “She’s… a guest.”

“A guest, you say?” Catnip said, his green eyes gleaming. “How fascinating. Bonbo! Grumbles! Come meet our new friend.”

Bonbo the rat and Grumbles the mouse scurried over, their tiny eyes gleaming with mischief. “A turkey!” Bonbo squeaked. “How delicious—I mean, delightful!”

“Delightful!” Grumbles echoed, rubbing his tiny paws together.

“Catnip, don’t even think about it,” I said, narrowing my eyes.

“Think about what?” Catnip said innocently. “I was merely going to… introduce Ethel to the farmer here. He’s been looking for a turkey, you know.”

“Oh, how nice!” Ethel said, completely oblivious. “I’d love to meet him!”

Before I could stop her, Catnip led Ethel straight to the neighboring farmer’s porch. But instead of panic, the farmer simply smiled and said, “Ah, a turkey! Perfect addition to the family.”

“Family?” I said, confused.

“Oh yes,” the farmer said. “I’m a vegetarian. She’ll fit right in with the other birds.”

Ethel beamed. “Oh, thank you! I’ll be the best turkey you’ve ever had!”

Catnip, Bonbo, and Grumbles looked thoroughly disappointed as Ethel happily waddled inside.

A Happy Ending

As we walked back to our farm, I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Well, I suppose things worked out for Ethel in the end.”

“Worked out? Oh, how wonderful!” Doris squawked.
“Wonderful! But also shocking!” Harriet clucked.
“Shocking! I thought she was doomed!” Lillian cried.
“Doomed! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Doris wailed.

“Enough,” I said, flicking my tail. “The moral of the story is this: even the dullest minds can find a bit of luck—and sometimes, the best way to help someone is to let them find their own way.”

With that, we returned to our farm, ready for whatever absurd adventure awaited us next.

The End.

When Women Finally Realize Men Are No Longer Afraid To Be Single | Men Only

The Next Step

George frost

“Jerry Culhannick.” He sat at his desk playing solitaire when his boss Harmon Newsome called his name. It was quitting time for Chrissakes, but he answered just in case it was good news.“Yo!” He hit the hallway on the move, nearly knocking over some of his colleagues trying to make an early exit from Crystal Image Studios.“Ah, you are in trouble now.” Carl Obleck snickered as he passed him in the hall. Carl was among the herd trying to make an early escape.“Shush.” Jerry shook his head.“Jerry, have a seat.” Mr. Newsome pointed to an empty chair. There was a strange man sitting in the other chair holding a briefcase and wearing dark sunglasses. “Jerry, I’ve got a hot one for you. Is Carl still in his cubicle?”“I doubt it.” Jerry smiled.“I’m gonna lock that back door one day.” He fumed a bit and then turned to the strange man sitting next to Jerry, “This is Jerry Culhannick.”“Good to meet you, Mr. Culhannick.” The stranger extended a mysterious hand which Jerry shook tentatively.“You are going to Ebsen Island in the morning.” Mr. Newsome straightened his tie.“What for? I thought that was a restricted area.” Jerry glanced at his boss and then the mysterious man sitting next to him.“It is.” The stranger said in an official voice, “My name is Dr. Abbalong and I work at the facility on the island. We have reached a stage in our research where we are ready to take the next step.”“The next step?” Jerry eyed the doctor.“In human evolution.” He did not stumble on his words, but it made a chill run up Jerry’s spine. The research on Ebson Island was top secret. No one really knew what Noble Research Inc. was working on their private island.“You will take Carl with you as your cameraman.” Mr. Newman ordered, “You are going to do a documentary on the research Noble Research is doing out there.”“Why me?” He asked, swallowing hard.“Because you are the best team I have on my staff.” He glared at Jerry.“You will see things that the world has yet to see.” Dr. Abbalong nodded.“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Jerry confessed.

“It’s not that bad.” Dr. Abbalong smiled, but it was not a comforting smile as far as Jerry was concerned.

“We will tell you what you can and cannot film.” Dr. Abbalong.

“What about freedom of press? Transparency of information?” Jerry asked.

“We control access. That must be clear and understood.” Dr. Abbalong’s voice became very serious, making Jerry wish he hadn’t been so flippant.

Sitting on the airplane with pontoons, Jerry glanced over at Carl who was holding the camera. The twin engines made conversation comprehension impossible, but Jerry could see that Carl was not happy to be on board the plane. The updraft from the sea water made the plane bounce like a ball. Three special agents with ear pieces and dark glasses sat across from Jerry and Carl on the fold out seats. The seats were uncomfortable as they bounced, but the special agents did not seem to be bothered by it.

The plane circled Ebson Island which was no more than a mile across, but he could see the runway from his window. Slowly the plane began to descend, but all Jerry could see was the ocean. He wondered if the plane would make the runway.

It did not. Instead the plane landed in the water in the small harbor of the island. Skidding on the rough whitecaps, Jerry would have been jolted out of his seat if he was not wearing his seatbelt. Jerry cursed, but the engines covered his foul language.

It took several minutes for the plane to be moored to the dock. The door opened and the bright tropical sun roared in along with a sharp rise in the temperature.

“Why are we here?” Carl complained.

“To do a documentary.” Jerry shook his head.

The shore crew had to put a portable gangplank to the door so the passengers could get on shore without getting wet. Carl continued to mumble foul language. A golf cart was waiting on shore once they got off the docks.

“Mr. Culhannick?” A man greeted them. A woman sat in the passenger’s seat of the cart.

“Yes.” They shook hands.

“I’m Dr. Wai and this is Dr. Trezbecca.” He smiled. “Welcome to Ebson Island.”

“This is my camera man, Carl Obleck.” Jerry let them shake hands, but Carl still did not look pleased to be here.

“What you are about to see will defy anything you have ever seen before.” Dr. Wai explained as they walked to a quonset hut after a short jaunt in the golf cart. “You will need these.”

Dr. Wai handed both of them an ID badge with their photos on the laminated card. Jerry had to wonder where they acquired the photos.

“This is Laboratory One where we incubate the genomes.” Dr. Wai ran his own badge through the scanner next to the door and then opened the heavy looking door. Inside an ultraviolet light was the only light there was. Jerry squinted as his eyes stung from the bright tropical sun to near darkness in Lab One. There were about two dozen people dressed in white lab coats checking each sample in the cool room. “It is here where the process starts.”

“Mr. Obleck, you may use your camera if you wish.” Dr. Trezbecca waved her hand over the first table where two laboratory technicians were bent over the sample. “I have a script.”

She handed Jerry a piece of paper which was hard to read in the dim lighting of the laboratory.

“Script?” He shrugged.

“Yes, we must make sure our security on this project is not compromised. Her face barely moved as she spoke.

“I guess I can’t wing it then.” He shrugged again, but everyone in earshot stopped what they were doing and looked at him as if he had just landed from another planet. Jerry did as he was instructed as Carl ran the video camera. There was a lot of technical language that he needed help with, but after a couple of takes, he was happy with his efforts. Carl scowled as they left Laboratory One.

“Can I speak freely?” He asked, putting the camera down on a table outside where the sun beat down on them.

“Yeah, sure.” Jerry felt the sun now.

“Does this place give you the creeps?” He asked, looking one way and then the next.

“How so?”

“I was filming human tissue. It just look like some random stuff in some petri dish, but I could see motion.” Carl sat at the picnic table next to his camera.

“Motion?”

“It was moving. I saw it through the lens.” Carl was shaken. Jerry had never seen him so jumpy even when they were in a war zone in Afghanistan.

“Sure. The solution is liquid.”

“No Jer, it was moving on its own. Do you want to see it?” He patted his camera.

“It’s okay.” Jerry shook Carl off.

Dr Trezbecca seemed to materialize from thin air, “Are you ready to go to Laboratory Two?”

“Lead the way, doctor.”

She began a brisk walk as Jerry glanced at Carl and he looked back at Jerry.

Unlike the previous laboratory, Laboratory Two was well lit under a large number of fluorescent lighting. There was much more activity in this place since there were twice as many technicians in white coats hovering over specimens. Instead of a small hut, Laboratory Two was a two story warehouse.

“It’s like a bee hive in here.” Carl noted as he brought the camera up.

“Do not take video until you are cleared to do so.” Dr. Trezbecca instructed him and then handed Jerry a piece of paper, “You read this when we run the video.”

“I wonder what they are trying to hide?” Carl whispered to Jerry.

“Doctor, we have pulses in both Bay One and Two.” A man wearing a lab coat reported.

“Excellent.” Dr. Trezbecca smiled for the first time, “Our results are better than I expected.”

“Is that good?” Jerry asked.

“Of course. We are preparing the next step of human evolution.” She nodded. Walking over to a table where five technicians were busy working, the doctor peered into a microscope. A smile slid across her face. “You may send these over to Laboratory Three. They are ready.”

“Very good, doctor.” A woman technician affirmed.

“Are you two ready to record history?” She asked.

“Sure, sure.” Jerry held up the piece of paper she had given him. “Carl, are you ready?”

“For what?” He mumbled. “I’m sorry, Jer, but this whole place has given me the creeps. Don’t you feel it?”

“Not really.” Jerry moved his mouth to get ready to start recording.

“I will hold this specimen.” Dr. Trezbecca replied as she picked up the small petri dish.

Jerry read the script about how in Laboratory Two, the miracle of life was being recreated. That was the word printed on the page, “recreated.” Carl nearly vomited when he read that word. Of all the words, that one word seemed to grab at him the most. In his association with Jerry Culhannick, Carl knew Jerry had a fairly large ego when it came to camera time. Together they had made over a hundred documentaries Crystal Images in which Jerry presented an unflinching presence to the camera. They had gone into war zones and reported on combat conditions. They had gone into the bowels of the earth to see some of the wonders buried in the rocks. They had traveled to over a hundred countries and all fifty states in search of interesting topics, but here Carl was getting an uneasy feeling about what they were witnessing. No one bothered to tell them what the purpose of the research was, reminding Carl of when they had explored alchemy and the person explaining the process was very secretive about some of the things he was doing.

“Shall we go to Laboratory Three?” Dr. Trezbecca asked when Jerry had finished.

“Sure, let’s get this done, shall we.” Jerry was feeling pretty good about the way things were going which made the doctor smile.

“In Lab Three, there are things you should know.” One of the technicians cornered Carl as Jerry left with the doctor.

“Like what?” Carl looked at the technician, a young Asian American man who spoke with a slight accent.

“It is where they give birth to the specimens.” He said as his eyes scanned the room.

“What do you mean give birth?” Carl asked.

“What does it sound like?” The man became spooked and left in a hurry before someone discovered him talking to the man with the camera.

He walked over to the last building in the compound with a big “III” painted in red on the side. What made him pause was the playground equipment behind a chain link fence.

“What would they need that for?” He wondered, but then he saw that some of the chains had been gnawed through in places..

Walking into the laboratory, Jerry ran to Carl excited or “jazzed” as he used to say, “Carl, you’ve got to see this.”

Jerry led him to a table where a baby lay wrapped in a blanket. Carl was startled at the baby’s face. Despite his small size, the face of the child was just about fully formed.

“Jer, this isn’t right.” He looked down at the infant in horror.

“Look at his face.” Jerry pointed to the infant in the glass casing.

“He has teeth. All of them.” Carl saw the baby open his mouth revealing real human teeth already in his mouth. “Isn’t there something wrong here.”

“It’s the next step.” Jerry shook his head, amazed.

“Is it? Is it the next step or are we looking at a mutation of what we are destined to become?” Carl felt the baby was looking at him, studying him. “I don’t like what I am seeing. I can’t believe this doesn’t bother you.”

“No. This is what we will become.” Jerry sniffed.

“Has anyone done any preliminary research? What will these babies become when they grow into adulthood?” Carl could not take his eyes off the baby in the encasement.

“The infant can speak with a vocabulary of three hundred words which increases exponentially each month.” Jerry was enthralled by what he was seeing in Laboratory Three. “These babies will reach adulthood by age four or five.”

“Does that sound right to you, does it?”

“Why not? Our grip on being at the top of the evolutionary tree has been slipping for centuries. Now we can regain our rightful place again.”

“Buddy, you are losing your grip here.” Carl looked at Jerry as if he was truly seeing him for the very first time.

One of the technicians dropped a thick cracker into the encasement. The infant grasped it and gnawed it until it had been consumed in under a minute. With teeth that sharp, it was little wonder why the playground chains had been gnawed through in places.

What would happen if one of these mutants managed to get loose in the laboratory? They could hurt or maim some of the technicians.

C’mon buddy, don’t you think it’s time for us to be on our way. We got some good stuff on film.” He grabbed Jerry by the arm, but Jerry shook him off.

“No, I want to stay here.” He shook his head, “Dr. Trezbecca promised we’d get a up close look at what these children can do.”

“I don’t want to see.”

“Why not?” Jerry was annoyed with Carl.

“Because I am afraid. I am very much afraid.” He shook.

“We are a witness to the next step. This is what we were supposed to be like,” Jerry watched as one of the technicians took the baby out of the encasement.

“I don’t want-” Carl began, but Dr. Trezbecca pointed to a small penned in area where the child had been placed.

“I want you to get this.” Dr. Trezbecca said proudly.

“Sure.” Jerry motioned for Carl to follow him.

“A lynx! Jerry, they put a lynx in the pen with the baby.” Carl could not believe what he was seeing through his lens. The wild animal circled the baby emitting a snarl and a growl. Slowly the cat moved, baring its teeth and fangs. The baby gurgled. Just then the cat jumped at the baby teeth and claws out ready to kill him.

Carl let out a yelp as the cat landed on the helpless baby. There was a cloud of dust in the entanglement. For a moment no one could see either the wild cat nor the child, but the baby was not crying out in pain. Instead the wild cat yelped and lay in the dust with a huge wound in its neck spouting an arterial wound. The lynx took a couple of gasping breaths and expired.

“Oh my God.” Carl held onto every word as he watched the lynx die.

“Did you see that, Carl? Did you see that?” Jerry could barely contain his excitement. “I can’t wait to show this to Mr.Newsome. I’ll bet he can’t believe this.”

“I’m sure he can’t.” Carl swallowed his bile. All he could see was the blood dripping from the infant’s mouth.

“Jerry, you sounded so excited about what you two saw while you were on Ebson Island.” Mr. Newsome sat at his desk with his hands folded on the desk in front of him.

“Yeah…you won’t believe your eyes.” Carl could not meet his boss’ eyes as Jerry set up the video on his computer. The video ran for less than four minutes. Mr. Newsome sat there with a smile frozen on his face. “Do you want me to play it again?”

“No thank you, Jerry, I’ve seen enough.” He sighed. Carl looked up at the suspended ceiling.

“Impressive, right?” Jerry closed the laptop.

“Yeah, that was one word for it.” Mr. Newsome shrugged.

“Go ahead and say it boss. This is a perversion, right?” Carl let some of his pent up anger salt his words.

“Perversion, right, but it is what it is.” Mr. Newsome put his hand to his double chins and pondered what he had seen for a moment. Then with a summary remark, said, “It was bound to happen after all. With the infinity of all the possible outcomes, like it or not, someone was bound to take the next step.”

Italian Sausage Charlotte

Yield: 8 servings

Ingredients

Meat Mixture

1 1/2 pounds mild Italian sausage links
1 medium zucchini, sliced
8 ounces mushrooms, sliced
1 (16 ounce) jar white Alfredo pasta sauce, divided

Topping

1/2 cup milk
2 eggs
1 garlic clove, pressed
2 teaspoons Pantry Italian Seasoning Mix, divided
1/8 teaspoon salt
16 slices firm white bread
1 (14 1/2 ounce) can diced tomatoes, drained
2 tablespoons fresh Parmesan cheese, grated

Instructions

Heat oven to 400 degrees F.
Remove casing from sausage links; discard. Cut sausage into 1/2 inch pieces. Cook sausage in Stir Fry Skillet over medium heat until well browned and no longer pink. Turning with Nylon Turner as meat browns.
Meanwhile, using Ultimate Slice & Grate, slice zucchini using v shape blade. Slice mushrooms with Egg Slicer Plus. Cut red bell pepper into 1/4 inch strips.
Remove sausage from skillet; drain well on paper towels. Wipe out the skillet, and add 1 cup Alfredo sauce; bring to a boil. Stir in sausage and vegetables. Pour mixture into Oval Baker, mounding slightly in center.
In Small Batter Bowl, whisk together remaining Alfredo sauce, milk and eggs using Stainless Steel Whisk. Add garlic pressed with Garlic Press, 1 teaspoon of the Seasoning Mix and salt.
Cut crusts off the bread using Serrated Bread Knife. Dip bread into egg mixture, coating lightly; overlap bread in a circular pattern over sausage mixture, leaving center open.
Drain tomatoes in a small Colander; transfer to small Colander Bowl. Add remaining 1 teaspoon Seasoning Mix; mix with Mix ‘N Scraper. Spoon tomato mixture into opening. Using Deluxe Cheese Grater, grate cheese over top.
Bake for 25 to 30 minutes or until edges of bread are deep golden brown.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Everything You’ve Missed on the Economy

Dating Crissy : a friend of my favorite co-worker in South Carolina

After I left the Navy, I got a job at a Steel Mill.

Ah, now, when I was working in the Pittsburgh Steel Mill, I was sent on numerous trips to South Carolina to assist in setting up a “branch” rolling mill there. Entire industries were relocating from the North East into the Southern states. This was one such effort.

All in all, it was an interesting time.

This was in 1981, and I have many stories from that period.

Anyways, at that time I had made friends with a few of the engineers there, and we would hang out together.

One friend was ALWAYS trying to get me hooked up with various girls. Friends. Relatives. And, of course, following his lead, I would meet the girls and ask them out. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

Well, some went well, and some didn’t.

Some girls were just beautiful, others cute. Some robust, and others petite. It was a virtual smorgasbord.

Fun times for a young man in his 20’s.

Now I was learning about relationships at that time, and truthfully I was such a novice. I didn’t know shit.

But what mistakes could you make on a singular date? Right?

Well, for certain, yeah I ended up making them.

Including a scammer who wanted me to invest in his “perpetual motion invention”, and also to join his cult of “the God Way”.
Or later on when I would visit Florida and make all sorts of youngish friends, five years younger than myself. I guess that I was the grizzly old 20-something leader at that time.

But let’s not get sidetracked in all my follies. Back at that time, when I was still employed, I was out dating, and just meeting all kinds of girls.

Just for food, chatting and companionship.

Sex was a rare event.

Though I did meet up with some gals; Mary. Now that was a train-wreck. I’ll tell you what.

But, still many of the girls were using me for various reasons. Mostly for free food. Or something to gossip about in the deep South small-town gossip circles. Today, we will talk about Crissy.

She was using me to make her boyfriend jealous.

She told me up front that is why we went on the date. LOL.

And I, as a stupid fuck, agreed to it.

What was I thinking? Bad move guys!

No consequences at that time for me. But, you know it all could have gone really wrong. Don’t ever, ever mess around with another man’s girl. Don’t you know.

So, I took this gal out. We ate pizza and the entire time she was talking about how everyone was watching us, and that the gossip was starting to flow.

And that soon enough it would reach her boy friend. And then he would get so angry and start treating her better.

Uh. She was on a diet so she ate one slice. I ate the rest of the pizza. It was fine.

And that was that.

A week later I called her to check up and it seems her ploy worked and her boyfriend was fiercely possessive of her and won’t let her out of his sight. Ha ha.

So I guess that her ploy worked.

And for me… well. I just hope it all worked out for them two.

And that is all that I can say about THAT.

Today…

CHINA RESPONSE TO TARIFFS GOT AMERICANS REACTING

How serious is the Chinese military’s lack of experience?

The shape of the future of warfare has changed, and unmanned warfare will become mainstream. America’s so-called war experience is outdated or wrong.

America has not fought a comparable adversary since its founding, The war in Afghanistan and the Gulf War are asymmetric wars

Like Muhammad Ali knocking down a schoolboy, and what good does that experience do the he?

After all, Afghanistan and Iraq have no nuclear weapons, drones, advanced missiles, carrier fleets, or sixth-generation fighter jets. There are no advanced unmanned troops. But China has it all.

Chinese drones and robot dogs are already in service, and the future of total war is no longer what it was during World War II.

The most important point is that China has more production capacity than the G7 countries combined!

To take one of the simplest examples, China’s electric vehicle production in 2023 is 20 million, and this is only electric vehicles. These production lines can all be used to produce drones, robot dogs, and tanks in time of war.

You can check how many pieces of furniture in your house are made in China, which today has more industrial power than the Soviet Union and the United States combined during the Cold War.

Self-detonating robot

Aircraft carrier

DF31-AG

robot dogs

Unitree B2-W 天赋觉醒！_哔哩哔哩_bilibili

在发布量产一年后，宇树 Unitree B2-W 工业轮足，觉醒了更多极限天赋技能！请大家务必友好的使用机器人

https://www.bilibili.com/video/BV17rCGY1Ebe/?spm_id_from=333.337.search-card.all.click&vd_source=56ef3e371717ff179fe581f14ed532cf

Sixth-generation fighter

Does the U.S. military have experience fighting these weapons？

Now there is a saying on the Chinese Internet:

In the past, the U.S. military had fighter jets and artillery, while the People’s Liberation Army had a will like steel.

Now that ，the PLA also has fighter jets and artillery, Americans had better pray the US military has the same will as steel.

1950 North Korea Chosin Lake PLA soldiers

These PLA soldiers remained steadfast in their duty, never laying down their arms until their last breath.

Why are Japan lovers so mad about videos from China?

Is China preparing to go to war with the United States?

Absolutely

China is utterly unified in this. They have their red lines beyond which a US Sino conflict is simply unavoidable.

Its why they are securing their land routes, their energy security and their food security

Today the US is divided

The Hardliners want Russia & China entirely destroyed even if it’s WWIII
The Trumpists want China entirely isolated but want Russia and it’s energy resources as a friend
The RINOs want CPC destroyed but are greedy for money and want the Chinese Market and it’s access
The Democrats want to be reelected and want to stay in power and would prostitute their daughters and mothers and wives to do so.

So as a result US is not yet unified to go to war with China in their own backyard.

Lots of Democrats and RINOs have billions of investments in China to protect

Biden himself is one such Democrat despite the Rhetoric

Also US has four major power centers

Big Tech,
Military Industrial Complex,
Wall Street
Big Industry (Oil, Coal, Gas and Guns)

Of these four, consider their points of view…

Wall Street hates wars of any kind and wants China to badly avoid dumping US Debt. They also have Trillions invested in China on behalf of various funds in US
MI Complex likes Wars but not Wars against China or Russia. They like wars where they can sell maximum weapons but where victory is guaranteed. They prefer milking Ukraine conflict and targeting Iran next. A War against Russia or China is a black hole for weapons and MI Complex would simply be unable to manufacture at half the speed that is required
Big Tech doesn’t really care
Big Industry loves Wars as it means booming profits

So once again the Power Centers aren’t united in favor of a Major War.

Finally you have the PENTAGON

It’s top officials know a War with China is a nuclear one and that spells the end of the world.

So they will deescalate

So right now it’s just the HARDLINERS who are provoking China, hoping to unify everyone if China succumbs to the provocation

…

Blinken is a hardliner

China meanwhile has changed course. It’s dumping all the hardliners. Zhao Lijian is gone and replaced by a very benevolent young woman.

It’s message is it won’t succumb to provocation while trying very hard to retain an image as a Peaceful Nation which minds it’s own business.

Its why in a matter of a mere 3 years – US has been acknowledged as a Warmonger ans China as a Land that wants peace by most of the Neutral World.

…

Sadly there is a problem – UKRAINE

The Domination of Russia and the fact that all the Western Propaganda is being scoffed at by the American Citizens is worrisome

Even worse is the fact that all of the world are seeing all the weapons of NATO get torn to pieces like M777 Or HIMARS with T80s and MLRS

US desperately want to turn the attention away from Ukraine, some excuse to stop supplying weapons to Ukraine and force a ceasefire with concessions using China as a major excuse.

They must sell the China Threat to everybody to do this effectively

…

So it’s a big pigs breakfast out there

China meanwhile is clear

It doesn’t want a war but it has red lines and it knows exactly what to do and when to do.

A Sign of a Winner

China Official Refers to Americans as “Peasants”

Hal Turner World April 15, 2025

A senior Chinese official warned Tuesday that President Donald Trump’s tariffs would backfire and that soon, “those peasants in the U.S.” would “wail in front of the 5,000 years of Chinese civilization.”

The remarks are the latest Chinese repudiation of Trump’s global trade war as Beijing shifts gears from attempting to communicate with the White House to hitting back frequently and forcefully in an effort to cast the United States as an irresponsible global power.

China’s top official overseeing Hong Kong and Macao, Xia Baolong (shown above), lashed out at the U.S. during a speech on national security, in which he linked 2019 pro-democracy protests in Hong Kong with what Beijing sees as continued U.S. efforts to suppress China.

Xia called the U.S. decision to levy a tariff of 145 percent on all goods from Hong Kong, a special administrative region of China, “brutally unreasonable and extremely shameless.”

“The U.S. isn’t after our tariffs but our very survival,” he said. “The U.S. has repeatedly contained and suppressed Hong Kong … and this will eventually backfire on itself.”

Since Trump took office in January and set about remaking the global trading system, the world’s two largest economies have levied import duties on each other that are now so high they amount to a trade embargo.

China has countered Washington’s latest levies by imposing a tariff of 125 percent on all U.S. goods while Trump has maintained 145 percent taxes on all Chinese imports, with temporary exceptions for semiconductors and consumer electronics.

Is it possible for China to surpass the US in economy size? If so, when and at what rate would China’s economy grow compared to the US?

It’s a certainty that China would surpass the US in economy size.

China is already quite a bit ahead of the US in the making and creation of real things:

main qimg 23acf9d63e69176a7e450536afbfccba

However, China’s economy still lags a bit behind the US largely due to its service industry. This is partially due to the nature of the two economic models: in the US Capitalist model, you’re encouraged to charge as much as possible for your service. For example, the average litigation cost in the US is us$50000. While under the Chinese socialist model, individuals are encouraged to provide their service as cheap as possible, for the benefit of the whole society. So the same litigation fee is restricted to a flat rate of just under $7. That’s a wopping 7000x difference. It’s an extreme example but it does show that the two economies are not directly comparable by market capitalization. The Chinese service prices will naturally grow when Chinese people slowly become richer.

A good indicator for comparing the true size of the two economies, which scientists suggested is even viable for comparison across star systems, is energy usage:

The US abandoned the Philippines again

How To Go Back

Submitted into Contest #279 in response to: Center your story around a person who believes they’re the last human on Earth.… view prompt

Max Sinclair

Two years ago, I stared into the eyes of a little dead girl. She was sprawled on some highway, deep in what used to be the Midwest, her dead, fermenting eyes staring past me, and up, up, up, into the sun-bleached sky.They didn’t leave many bodies behind when they left. Didn’t want to find skeletons when they came back, I assume. Her skin was dark and leathery. There was a hole growing in her cheek. Blue tendrils came twirling out of the rotted, bony mass, with those little orange tips. I wished they were green; I miss the trees, the grass. The closest thing to nature are the dead bodies with the synthetic viruses, eating themselves towards the clouds; puny, fingernail scratches on deep blue skin.She might’ve been dead for three months, six at a stretch. The first thing I felt when I saw her was excitement. She was the closest thing I’d seen to another person in six years. My father’s body had been more pristine, less infected by the now, a perfect conservation of the then. There was only the tight, red little hole in his temple; the pool of dark, sticky blood pooling around bits of his brain, staring at me like a sick, foaming, red-furred dog. His eyes were stained red by blood, and they sat uncomfortably in their sockets, dislodged by the force of a bullet tearing it all up behind them. He was smiling, a slash of red teeth, red eyes popping. I half-expected them to flick towards me, half-expected the revolver, still lying loosely in his palm, to fire a matching shot through my own temple. I was relieved when he killed himself, as I was when I saw the dark hole in that little girl’s cheek. I took the gun, I took his shoes, I turned around and I left. As I reached the crest of the yellow hill, I looked back at him, lying like roadkill on the highway, in the dead, yellow grass, our truck lying upside-down, smoking, a few feet away. I wiped blood from my forehead and I pressed on, the sun belching like a toad white bubble of heat that burst around me periodically. There was a similar gunshot in the little girl’s calf that poked out from her purple nightgown. It was the nightgown that made me vomit. I heaved onto the tarmac. I heaved and I heaved. She was so young. The same age as me, probably, when I left my father’s corpse to rot in the fat, white sun that turned the sky grey from its heat.It happened in the night, I thought, sitting on the tarmac, staring at the little dead girl. There were faint, sun-baked faint tyre marks on the road. She had Gone, I thought. So young. She died, seething with red-hot pain, alone in the inky night, not an inkling of who she once might’ve been. The sun was rising, the sky was losing her blue. The pile of vomit to my side would begin to cook soon, like a stinking goose egg in a frying pan. I stood up. I looked at her once more, a China doll, cracked up and fading in the sun; I turned my head back to the road, the tarmac melting into a black puddle on the horizon.It had been the last wink of winter, that day. Or what would’ve been winter. My diary says so: March third. It’s almost definitely wrong- the last time I was really sure of the day, the month, the year: I was nine. The day the school caught fire and burned down. The village burned for a week; the school was first, a black plume into the purply-grey midday sky. The grass was already threadbare, yellow; the buildings were lazy, wooden shacks, standing crooked; haphazard, peeling rows like a pile of matches. It’s difficult to build, gather materials- do anything at all- when you swelter all day under a rock, or in a shack, waiting for the Midnight Hours. The village burned and then Grandma picked up Bleach on the exodus, and soon everybody was Gone, my father on his way. That day, after seeing the dead girl, I had collected enough gas and food to wait out the summer in the Caves. They were damp, dripping places if you went down far enough. It stank of rotted bodies, those who had starved or Gone, but it was cool, it was dark, it was safer than third degree burns and snarling tumours all summer long.I remember, I’d left it so late that I knew to stop driving and lie in the grass under the car- I usually passed out from the heat after an hour or so. When the sun was lower in the sky, orange and red, the sky green and pink, I poured water over myself, guzzled it through my cracked, bleeding lips. And then I drove and I drove. I’d left it so late, so dangerously late, that towards the end of the journey they started appearing in the sky. Small, black dots at first, but they got bigger. Their ships. Full of, I don’t know. Probably scientists in grey coats. Watching. Waiting for everything to die so they could start again. They’re nothing but black pebbles in the sunset to me, and they disappear in the safety of the night. Black pebbles, no windows, no movement, no noise. They’ve no exhaust fumes, no visible sign of life. They just float calmly in the sky, black beads, watching as Earth eats itself like a coyote starving in the desert, picking at its own ribcage for morsels of its fleshy stomach; a stomach long gone. That little dead girl was a premonition, I suppose. It had been a silent, dissociative half-decade of white, silent heat. Each year dripped onto my lips like the last of the water in the hip flask I dangle, now, as I speak, above my head.I should’ve been gone for the Caves days ago. I stand on the roof of a gas station. It’s midday, the sky is clear and grey. The yellow-brown plains sprawl outwards, forever on all sides; the highway cuts a black line down the middle. There’s the occasional lone ranger, a telephone post in the distance, the hollow carcass of a tree. It’s silent. So, so silent. Silence as deafening as a red sea, crashing down on my shoulders and burrowing into my dry, blistered throat. There’s blood leaking from the blisters in my cheeks; it starts to boil, slowly, etching teary burns down my chin, down my neck. I don’t feel it. I don’t feel anything. I’m a pair of eyes. I forgot the Cave long ago. I’ve been waiting for this day. The last day of winter, the last wink. I hold my arms outstretched. From somewhere far away, much bluer and greener, much louder, if I squint, I can feel them burn like an old photograph on the campfire. The sensation starts to feel like rain, cold and relieving.I Bleached myself intentionally. I went to one of the rotted bodies deep in the Caves: a man. In the torchlight, his eyes were milky and half closed, his mouth slack. There was a bottle of something that had rolled away from his right hand. There were foamy remnants on his lips. He reminded me of my little brother, Geoffrey. Maybe if he had grown up in the green and blue world, then, he would have looked like that. I kissed his forehead. I began to forget not long after. It was sweet; it was like falling slowly asleep. From this nightmare. This fucking nightmare, I hear myself scream, from far away, in the blue and green. I start to turn away now, as my legs begin to give out on the roof of the gas station. I can feel Nothing holding out his hand. The blistered now is a universe away. Just before I turn, and walk down the hill, the rain pouring onto my neck, blurring my vision into a sweet, comfortable grey, expansive, eternal grey, I see that little dead girl, lying on the highway, sprawled out on the scorched Earth.I smile as I slip away; I smile at her red, unblinking eyes.

KJ Noh Exposes China’s Trade War Supremacy

Buttermilk Fried Chicken

Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

Chicken

4 (4 ounce) skinless boneless chicken breast, sliced into strips
1/2 cup buttermilk
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil for frying

Blue Cheese Sauce

4 tablespoons blue cheese crumbles
1/2 cup sour cream
1 tablespoon Veggie Delight Seasoning

Instructions

Chicken

Place chicken and buttermilk in a season serve container; seal and shake to coat. Let chicken sit for at least 10 minutes.
In a 10 cup impressions bowl, mix flour and seasoning together. Gently coat chicken strips with flour mixture.
Place chicken in preheated chef series 9.5 fry pan. Cover and fry each side on Med-Hi heat for 5 minutes until done.
Serve with Blue Cheese Sauce for dipping.

Blue Cheese Sauce

In a 5 1/2 cup impressions bowl mix ingredients together with saucy silicone spatula.
Seal and refrigerate until time to serve with wings, meatballs, or vegetables.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Which World War II fighter was the best in a dogfight?

Not the P-51 Mustang, Spitfire, F-6F or Hawker Tempest. Sometimes even losers have an ace up their sleeve, which doesn’t get the recognition it deserves! The best fighter of WWII was unequivocally the Messerschmitt Me-262. Nothing else that was designed and manufactured in WWII came close to its overall abilities. Captain Eric Brown who tested captured Me 262s, described it as “a quantum leap in aeronautics”.

The Me-262 could fly 110 miles (190KM) faster than the next fastest aircraft, making it almost impossible for an enemy aircraft to get behind its tail. Allied aircraft could trump the Me-262 in instantaneous turn rate due to their lower wing loading, but they also bled energy more quickly, losing speed and altitude much faster than the Me-262 did, which is why it achieved a kill ratio of 5.4:1 in the ending stages of WWII under adverse combat conditions, compared to 2:1 for the P-51 Mustang and 1:1 for the P-47.

main qimg 0607c8effd04df847515070b638f46a4

Major Walter Nowotny, a celebrated German pilot who was commanding an Me-262 unit had to intercept an Allied attack which, according to him, consisted of more than 300 B-24 bombers, escorted by hundreds of P-47s. Nowotny performed that mission with only 11 Me-262 in airworthy condition.

Only 200 or so Me-262 were deployed for combat out of the 1,430 that were produced. Despite overwhelming odds, poor training and complete Allied domination of German skies, it was able to amass 542 kills against 100 losses. When the Me-262s became operational, American fighter pilots kept them busy in dogfights, which prevented most of the jets from attacking the bombers. As a result, many of the Me-262 kills consisted of P-51 Mustangs and P-47 Thunderbolts. A great majority of Me-262 were destroyed by Allied aircraft during takeoff and landing. Many were destroyed on the ground where they were parked due to lack of fuel, parts or qualified pilots. The Me-262 engines required careful handling, and getting behind the Allied bombers required throttling down considerably to target the B-17 bombers. They ran the risk of a P-51 getting behind their tail.

The Me-262 engineering concepts were so revolutionary that it literally trashed four decades of piston aircraft design and engineering technologies. It was the world’s first fighter aircraft with swept wings, featuring a sweep of 18.5 degrees. Its 30 mm cannons were also more powerful than most other aircraft. The aircraft had full span automatic leading-edge slats which helped increase the overall lift by as much as 35% in tight turns and at low speeds, giving it a decent turn rate.

The Me-262 wasn’t perfect. It had a long list of weaknesses and teething problems that is generally the case with new technologies. The engines were slow to spool up, had a short life (15–20 flight hours) due to shortage of high temperature metals and it could flame out during rapid throttle changes and aggressive maneuvering. After the war ended, the captured aircraft were studied, flight tested and its strengths were copied by all major Allied powers. The Me-262 influenced the designs of production aircraft such as the North American F-86 Sabre, MiG-15, and Boeing B-47 Stratojet and ushered in the jet age.

My Girlfriend Dumped Me Without Any Real Explanation, How Do I Become The Guy That NEVER Happens To?

How did Chinese tea culture influence Russian tea traditions throughout history?

Tea first entered Russia through Central Asia as early as the 9th to 10th centuries, where it began to create a diverse tea culture. By the 17th century, tea was officially introduced to the Russian Tsardom when a Russian ambassador brought tea as a gift from the Mongol Khan.

In 1679, Russia established a contract for the regular supply of dry tea from China, leading to the formation of tea caravans that traveled from China to Moscow along the Great Tea Road, a part of the Silk Road.

For nearly a millennium, Russians primarily consumed Chinese tea, which varied by region and social class. Popular types included Pu-erh for travelers and military men, and green tea (Mao Feng) for the nobility.

Initially, tea was regarded as an elite drink and was often prescribed by doctors for various ailments, reflecting its medicinal roots in Chinese culture.

The Russian tradition of tea drinking evolved to become a social ritual, emphasizing hospitality and conversation rather than the ceremonial aspects found in Chinese tea culture. As noted by curator Olga Yurkina, “In Russia, tea is an excuse for a long conversation”.

The samovar, a unique Russian tea utensil, was inspired by Mongol kettles and became central to Russian tea culture. It allows for the brewing of concentrated tea (zavarka) that can be diluted with hot water, a practice that reflects the communal aspect of tea drinking.

Russian tea is typically served with a variety of foods, including sweetbreads, pastries, and fruit preserves, which enhances the social experience of tea drinking.

Tea gatherings have been immortalized in Russian literature, symbolizing family and community, further embedding tea into the cultural fabric of Russia.

The influence of Chinese tea culture on Russian traditions is evident in the types of tea consumed, the methods of preparation, and the social customs surrounding tea drinking. Over centuries, these practices have evolved uniquely within the Russian context, creating a rich tea culture that honors its Chinese origins while developing its distinct identity.

Lost in a Dark Place

Submitted into Contest #282 in response to: Write a story set in a world of darkness where light is suddenly discovered.… view prompt

Patrick Huber

A chaotic symphony of light and sound pop and burst until all that remains is silence and darknessYou wake up sitting in the pilots seat of a craft pod. Your perspective is limited and you hear your breathing which means you have a helmet covering your head and face. You are in a flight suit of some sort designed for distant off world travel. So far you are unable to see beyond your mask, but a blinking light brings your attention to an instrument panel just at arms length. Most of instruments are broken save for the one that blinks to let you know everything else is broken. Attempting to ground yourself, you find that you have no recollection of the events that brought you here.From what you can see out the window is not much. Your world is enveloped in darkness. The terrain looks flat but you are unable to see much more than a few yards from the ship. You open the hatch and get better view of this strange world.Without proper readings of where you are, you venture to keep your suit on until you can know if the air is breathable. Your suit can hold enough oxygen for up to 18 hours without any extreme strengths of physical exertion. Stepping foot on the ground you notice gravity appears to be similar to earth. You get first good look at the sky. Without knowing the day/night cycle you are unsure how to evaluate what you’re looking at. The sky appears to be a dark amethyst color with streaks of indigo haphazardly brushed across it. They act like clouds high up in the sky, each hiding a glowing blue moon behind it.Your take quick stock of your situation. The life boat you crashed land was a one tripper and the crash did away with any hopes of attempts at a second. Your suit appears relatively untouched from the crash and in good working order. There is a wrist band with a readout for the oxygen supply. Other than that you have your legs and your wits. With no better alternative you decide to walk away from the lifeboat.Looking over a horizon to the left, you gaze at what could pass as storms cloud in the distance. A thick layer of dark purple hangs between the orange sand and the sky. You see the clouds roll and bubble with momentum. To the right looks clear, so you go right. You do not know how long you may have before a storms hits or what that would look like here but you attempt to put some haste in your step.No destination other than survival. A purposeful walk turns to a jog which briefly jumps to a run but slows back down to a brisk walk. The weight of the suit and limited oxygen put a low ceiling on how fast you can travel. You decide a steady pace is best.You have no sense of time or how far you’ve traveled. You glance behind you every so often to check on the storm which appears to have stalled at least for now. You could measure your distance from the pod but you lost sight of it and your only point of direction a while ago.NO STAY WITH ME!A voice thundering across the surface of the planet. The vibrations knock you to your feet. You’re momentarily paralyzed by this new mystery.STAY WITH ME!The voice says again and like before the world shook.The ground stabilizes and your fear subsides. Or at least it intensifies enough to get you back to your feet and moving again. You add fearful determination into your walk with an intent of fleeing and hiding. But with nothing to see other than a dark sky and burnt orange sand you are once again fleeing with no destination.Deep on the horizon straight head a small flash of what could be lighting popped. Unsure of the meaning of what you saw, it is a promise of something other than darkness perhaps so you continue toward it. You believe you make out a rise in elevation in the distance. Could be mountains or perhaps unnatural mounds signaling life. Either way you head towards it. The mounds gradually grow in height and you can be pretty certain they are natural mountains. This brings a glimmer of hope to your otherwise bleak situation. The change of terrain is breath of fresh air so to speak until ground elevation drops off and you find yourself on the precipice of a deep canyon. Hesitation brings you to look around for other options.The storm still intensifies behind you, the layer of bubbling blackness is twice as large as before and growing faster. With no alternative you find a gentle enough slope for you to slide down to a lower ledge. It’s about 8 feet or so down, you slide down with little trouble. You see that your path to the bottom is a much more of the same. A series of small rock outcrops and ledges a few feet or so down that allows you to get to the bottom.Once at the bottom of the canyon your world view becomes much narrower. Your perception is now framed by the dark 60 foot walls that could not be more than 20 or so feet apart. You stay on the move. As you hustle through a maze of dark black rock, the storm has caught up with you and there is no more color to the sky. Black clouds spill over the sides of the canyons, cascading down the rock like water down a mountainside. And just like water it continues to flow in your direction. You pick up speed. But the rush of black most catches up with you. It builds around your ankles and yet you move with ease as there is little or no reaction.You continue through the canyon as the clouds are up past your knees. You lose notice of any color in the sky, but rather different contrasts of darkness. You are aware of no light source but still you are able to see your path through this colorless void.The canyon walls are narrowing and the mist is high up around your waist. There is an unmistakeable mass to it now. You feel resistance in your movement. The cloud is so dense you cannot see below the surface. The density as created a pressure and it restricts your movement. It feels as if you are walking through a storm cloud with wind crashing at you from every direction. You struggle to keep moving but you know you must. If anything because the alternative is to quit and die and you don’t quit eve if it means death. Your brain starts to process what it sees in front of you. You’ve reached the end of canyon and a 100 foot wall is ahead of you.The cloud is nearly up your chest, you have to get out of this. As you approach the wall you a see a small crack about 8ft tall and maybe 18 inches wide. You stick the face shield of your helmet into the crack to see what’s behind it. Like everything else it’s dark, but you sense depth in the darkness and from the cloud that has seeped in the ground level stays constant at least for a while.NO! NO! DON’T GO! STAY WITH ME!A booming voice echoed through the walls of the canyon. Sonic booms explode in the totality of the atmosphere disrupting the rocky terrain. Large rocks crumble down from the walls disappearing in the surface level clouds. You cling to the wall, not wanting to get sucked under the surface.You have to get of there.You attempt to escape through the crack but your helmet and your suit make you too wide. You desperately try to force metal and plastic through rock but it won’t budge. A tsunami of wind builds and comes rushing through canyon. The force of dense air presses you against the wall. Your world is enveloped by swirling black wind. Your panic pushes you to act desperately and with little thought to possible consequences.You take a deep breath and remove your helmet and try to squeeze through. Still nothing, so you quickly strip off your suit. Wearing nothing but a monotone under base layer you take your first breath of alien air and are relieved to not immediately die. It could be oxygen but for now it’s not poison.

The narrow crack blocks most of the wind but forces you to side step most of the way. With only the side walls to guide you, you press on. Without the filter from the helmet visor you see that the world takes on a dark bluish tone. Your arms spreading farther alert tell you the gap is widening. The ground slopes so much so that you lose your balance and begin to slide. A slide forms to a roll as you travel down a hill before coming to a tumble at the bottom. You roll to your back and look up. Large spikes of black rock with dim blue glow cover the ceiling hanging down at varied length. You sit up to see the ground is not much different with opposing spikes stretching up from the ground. You’re up on your feet, feeling little effects from the fall. Unsure of where to move next you stay frozen.

A low inaudible humming voice echoes through cave before a flash of light blinds you. The brightness subsides and the cave is alive with electricity, arcing from point to point in a concerted ballet. You are able to see the cave now in its full wonder. The ceiling must be 20 feet high and the expanse looks infinite. Most interesting is a reflection you notice from a large mass of black water. You run to edge and it is indeed a lake of blackness. You bend down and put your hand in it. It’s as dark and souless as oil but with the touch of water. You stand once again at the precipice of a decision with no clear motivation. The electricity has died down so you are back to a muted blue darkness. You see no end to this lake so it could stretch on forever. You step into it to check the depth. You look back away from the shore and see the hole you fell about 8 feet off the ground and the wall, about 50 yards from the shore, marking this end of the cave.

You look around for answers. There’s always something. You venture farther from the shore but a force pulls you back. You find yourself heading back to the lake.

Again the low humming voice throughout the cave and the flash of light. It knocks you into the water before giving way to the electric current dance above.

A rhythmic pounding, weak but noticeable, emerges. It causes the spikes to hum and reverberate.

You get up and are immediately taken back by a tall cyclone of light at the back wall of the cave, stretching from ground to ceiling.

You walk towards it and feel warmth immediately. It’s the first time since you woke up that you have noticed temperature. It never occurred to you if it was hot or cold. But now as you step closer to this light, arms of warmth reach out to pull you closer.

A small black wave rushes up from the lake and swirl around your feet before reseding back. You take an another step toward the light and again a black wave comes in this time up to your knees and you feel the pull of current as the water recedes.

You move closer to the swirling mass of white illumination and are hit by another wave that knocks you to the ground and this time the current drags you back a few feet. You jump to your feet and sprint toward the light. Another crash from behind and you fall face forward down into blackness.

The current has you, it pulls you under the black water. You tumble and roll around trying to get a sense of your direction. The wave crashes back on land. Your up and sprinting hard now toward the light. You dare to look back amd catch a tidal wave building and rushing up quick.

The brightness begins to hurt your eyes and you squint but still run. You are hypnotized but the warmth as it grabs hold of you. You feel drops of water falling as you know the wave is about crash down. You push forward with everything you have left and leap forward just as the wave crashes behind you. The intensity of the wave pushes you forward into the cyclone and your world goes to white.

*****

“I have a pulse” one EMT alerts another.

“Ok she’s stable. Let’s load her up.”

It’s early morning, the sun has broken free from the horizon. Last of the night, fighting a losing battle with the sun, paint an ombré of black to blue to yellow in the sky. The virgin suns rays reflect off the fresh dusting of snow, illuminating the world.

The two EMTs secure the woman to the gurney and exit a suburban home towards a waiting ambulance.

A man, early 40s runs along side the gurney, he’s wearing sweatpants, t-shirt, and slippers, he’s holding her hand. She’s loaded up, the doors are closed, and the ambulance drives off. The man walks back over to the sidewalk and bends down to embrace two small children their eyes red and swollen, their cheeks wet with tears.

“Is Mommy going to be ok” a young girl of 8 asks her dad.

“Mommy’s going to be ok, she got lost in a dark place but she found the light again” he tells them.

The flashes of red and blue fade on their faces as the ambulance gains distance from them. The family watches as their mother heads off toward the rising sun of a new day.

Cool Comix

As a prison inmate, what was the stupidest or most ridiculous thing that you saw someone doing time for?

I didn’t see this personally, but the story stuck with me forever. This one dude noticed the day room door was unlocked when it was closed, so he went in and tried to walk of with one of the TVs, walking our a CO looked at him and said “ ‘the fuck you doing?” and dude dropped the tv and ran. Ran in a locked down hallway with COs and bars and no way out, but dude kept runnin, circles around the wall looking for a way out, COs not bothering just waiting for him to tire himself out, the other inmates already on knees heads behind back just laughing their ass off. Dude gets tired, they tackle/cuff him and the first CO asked “What the hell is wrong with you, we caught you clear, you should have put hand up and try not to get hurt” Dude said “Ive ran from cops all my life, old habits die hard”

What is a typical day like for a typical American?

I wake up, say a quick morning prayer, salute the flag, and read my Bible for awhile as I clean my AR-15. Then, I crack six eggs on the griddle and cook them sunny side up and, while the eggs are sizzling, I drop 12 strips of bacon on there, too.

I brew myself some coffee and take it without sugar, milk, or creamer, just completely black, unlike the sissy, limp-wristed libruls and their Starbucks “coffees”

After breakfast, I get dressed for the day. I wear my favorite shirt, “I’m with stupid”, and Levi’s jeans. I also wear steel toed work boots even though I don’t work in a place that requires them. I jump in my 120,000 dollar pickup truck with a Cummins diesel, coal-rolling engine, that I never haul things in, to drive to my non-construction job and Wal-Mart.

And as I roll coal, I say, “Take that, Greta Thunberg! You can’t tell ME what to do!”

While I’m driving to Wal-Mart or work, I listen to far-right conspiracy radio shows and get angry all over again that Obama won. But I can’t get too deep into the show because there’s a mass shooting happening on basically every block, everyday! Gotta keep my head on a swivel.

I bob and weave as rounds whiz by my truck. I even return fire with my fully-automatic AR-15 with the shoulder thing that goes up, and 25,000 round clips. Then, one of the thugs claps me with his 9mm HiPoint.

You’ve heard what our President (Biden) has said about 9mm! It blows your lungs out! So I drive to a for-profit, corporate-run hospital that is completely unregulated and has every politician on their payroll, to get my right lung back where it belongs.

And they fix me right up, as always, and charge me 82 quintillion, 644 quadrillion, 144 trillion, 982 billion, 832 million, 700 thousand, 936 dollars and 14 cents. They offer me a COVID shot, which I decline because I’m a selfish American who only thinks about myself, and doesn’t trust big pharma.

Then, I immediately file for medical bankruptcy because I pay my health insurance company to not pay. After that, if I have work, I report to work quickly, because I’m already on my second write-up for being late and don’t want a third, or else I’m fired and I’ll have to find another job that pays a competitive $9.75/hr.

After work, I come home and dust the large American flag hanging on the wall of my studio apartment owned by an unregulated, unhinged corporate landlord that charges me 7,800 dollars a month. Then, I order Dominoes Pizza for dinner, and, when the pizza comes, I watch Fox News and drink a Dr. Pepper until it’s time for bed.

On a non-workday (which is only one day a week because I work 6, 15’s) I go to Wal-Mart and get the essentials: Speed Stick, Ammo, and Keystone Light. Sometimes, I flirt with the rather heavy set cashier, Roxanne. She goes along with it up until after the card machine forces me to add a 26% tip, then, once I tip her for doing her job, she tells me to have a nice day and hurry up and bag my own stuff.

She likes me, she’s just too shy to admit it. 😌

After Wal-Mart, I sometimes like to swing by Larry’s Arsenal to pick up some hand grenades (which I like to drunkenly toss into a open field for fun) or windowshop a FGM-148 Javelin, but they’re too pricey at the moment.

Then, I usually find myself driving by the local 4-year, for-profit university. I point and laugh at the kids going 640,000 dollars in debt for a degree in central Asian literature and from there I go back home, go on social media and tell Europeans to keep their stupid European opinions to their stupid European selves, and set off an M-1000 firework.

‘Merica.

China Doesn’t Need America: China WON the Trade War in ONE WEEK—Trump’s EPIC Collapse!

Easy Chicken Fajitas

Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients

1 medium red bell pepper
1 medium green bell pepper
1 large onion
1 plum tomato
1 pound boneless, skinless chicken breast halves
1 (1 to 1.25 ounce) package fajita seasoning mix
2 garlic cloves, pressed
1 small lime, cut in half
8 (7 to 8 inch) flour tortillas, warmed
Optional toppings: salsa, shredded cheese, guacamole, sliced pitted ripe olives and sour cream

Instructions

Cut bell peppers into 1/2 inch strips. Cut onion and tomato into 1/4 inch wedges. Set vegetables aside.
Cut chicken into 1/4 inch strips. Combine chicken and seasoning mix in small bowl; toss to coat and set aside.
Heat Grill Pan over medium-high heat. Lightly spray pan with vegetable oil using Kitchen Spritzer. Add bell peppers and onion; cook for 3 minutes without stirring.
Stir and cook an additional 3 minutes or until vegetables are crisp-tender. Remove vegetables from pan; set aside.
Spray pan again with vegetable oil. Add chicken; cook for 2 to 3 minutes without stirring.
Add garlic. Stir and cook for 3-4 minutes or until chicken is no longer pink.
Add reserved vegetable mixture and tomato to pan. Squeeze lime over chicken mixture. Cook for 1 minute or until heated through; stir.
To serve, spoon a portion of the chicken and vegetable mixture in center of each tortilla. Top with desired toppings, if desired.

Nutrition

per serving: (2 fajitas): Cal: 380, TFat 8g, Sat; Fat .5g, Chol: 65mg, Carbohydrate 44g, Protein 33g, Sodium 860mg, Fiber 2g

Attribution

Pampered Chef

What is it like to live in Finland, the happiest country in the world?

Horrible, absolutely horrible.

Please don’t move here, there are already five million people living in this craphole in insufferable misery, more than enough if you ask my modest opinion. If you want to come as a tourist and want bring us some money for pity, you are more than wellcome, though.

And the happiest country in the world! What an absolute load of nonsense! If you believe those “researches”, please contact me: I have a bridge that I want to sell for just few thousand euros! It’s a bargain! And it’s in Finland, the happiest country in the world!

Finnish women

Finnish brands

Finnish cousine

Finnish urban landscapes

Finnish values (and fashion sense)

Finnish fashion sense (and sense of humour)

More recent finnish architecture (“Nordic Living”).

Finnish opposition politics

Finnish president (see how his sportswatch matches with the necktie!)

Antony J. Blinken, the U.S. secretary of state, said Ukraine’s campaign in the Kursk region will play a critical role in any peace talks with Russia. What do you think of that?

If that is the case then there won’t be any peace talks. Russia is winning this war and continues to advance along the entire line of contact. Zelensky has admitted that there is no way for Ukraine to recover the lost territories through military means. So there is no pressure on Russia to hold peace negotiations now. But for Ukraine, it is urgent to hold peace negotiations because they are losing territory everyday in eastern Ukraine, while their advance in Kursk has been stopped by Russia. In fact, Russia has recovered about half of the Kursk territory that Ukraine took.

Russia is not under pressure to clear Kursk from the Ukraine soldiers. This is something that they will put focus on after taking all of Donetsk and Luhansk. For the mean time, it is to their benefit to keep some of the Ukrainian troops in Kursk, away from the line of contact in eastern Ukraine. So, for example, Russia can continue to kill a few hundred Ukraine soldiers per day in Kursk, forcing Ukraine to send even more troops away from Donetsk and Luhansk to Kursk, thereby making it easier for Russia to advance in Donetsk and Luhansk.

Trump’s threat to send more weapons to Ukraine if Russia refuses to negotiate will probably be ignored by Russia, because all along the US has been sending hundreds of billions of dollars worth of weapons to Ukraine but Ukraine keeps losing. Those new weapons will not make a difference.

Besides, Ukraine is short of troops. The weapons need troops to use them.

“Hollywood Has RUINED The U.S. Military!” – Col. Douglas Macgregor

China’s Week, Jan 12, 2025

Godfree Roberts

Science & Technology

Unitree, whose robots hold the Guinness sprinting record, just released an open-source full-body data set that lets robots dance.

The JinDou 400 engine flies Beijing-New York in 2 hours at 3,100 mph (5,000 km/h), at 66,000 feet (12 miles). 12” diameter x 10’ long, it produces 880 lb of thrust without compressors or turbines.

AECC ignited its 600-kg thrust-class high-end turbofan engine after 8 months development. It will power 1.5 to 4-ton UAVs.

Yarlung Zangbo/Brahmaputra Super Dam will capture three times the hydroelectric power of the Three Gorges Dam.

Will Bluetooth alternative, Star Flash, take over consumer electronics? It supports multiple simultaneous connections, low power, and streams lossless stereo audio.

Manufacturers delivered 3.17 million civilian drones last year, and 220,000 citizens have drone piloting licenses.

Record satellite-to-ground laser communications 10x faster, 100 Gb/s. For 6G, ultra hi-res sensing and next-gen satellite positioning.

CR450 train prototype hits 450 km/h will have 400 km/h operating speed, stabler, shorter braking, +22% energy-efficient, 10% lighter, quiet cabin.

910 new drugs make China the #2 pharmaceutical market, and its drug development pipeline of 5,380 drugs rivals America’s 5397. China’s biopharma market has reached $3.3 billion with a CAGR of 13.8%.

A Palbociclib breast cancer tablets that costs $2 in China costs $227 in the USA, 100 times more.

Startup NeuroXess lets brain-damaged patients turn thoughts into speech in real time, and remotely control a robot arm using thoughts alone.

World’s first 3rd-generation nuclear reactor starts powering 6 million homes.

Trade & Economy

China Rail handled a record 194,000 cargo trains daily, transporting 350 million metric tons of cargo last month, up 5.5% YoY.

The railway network handled a record 4.08 billion passenger trips in 2024, up 10.8% YoY. Air trips also hit a record 730 million in 2024, an 18% increase.

Foreign brands accounted for 64% of car sales in 2020. In 2024 it was 35%. EV sales will take over the Chinese car market, collapsing ICEV and foreign brand sales.

Temu tops US iOS app downloads for second year running, Tiktok ranks 3rd.

Huawei beats Apple, dominates global smartwatch market.

Microsoft’s Brad Smith: the US must hurry to remain competitive with Huawei in AI–or face another defeat as with 5G.

The one-billionth 5G mobile subscriber signed up in November, accounting for 56% of the country’s 1.79 billion mobile users.

China has completed its national ‘high-speed rail for computers,’ an 8,080-mile, super-fast computer network with delays under 20 ms. and 3cm. location accuracy.

There are 4.5 million firms in core sectors of China’s digital economy.

Booming phone-friendly mini-dramas will earn $7 billion in 2024.

SMIC cut 28nm node wafer price from $2500 to $1500, pressuring foreign fabs. UMC’s 28nm fab utilization fell from 85% last year to 68% in 2024.

Yiwu (pop. 2 million) produced 80% of the world’s Christmas decorations, worth $70 billion, for 2 billion people in 160 countries.

Hong Kong-Zhuhai-Macao Bridge saw a record 27 million trips in 2024.

Chinese dollar bonds sold in Riyadh safer than 10-year US Treasuries. Chinese RMB bonds appreciated 9% in 2024.

China’s Lithium reserves have increased from 6% to 16.5% of the global total, lifting it from sixth to second place in the world rankings.

Society

The retirement age for men will rise from 60 to 63 over 15 years, for women will be raised from 55 to 58, and women blue-collar workers will rise from 50 to 55.

Has the fourth wave of scientist returnees arrived?

Surviving in Cashless China 2025: 10 apps to make your life easier.

Environment

370 MkW of renewables–83% of new capacity–and only 40 MkW of coal power installed last year. Renewables still insufficient and unstable.

The Yarlung/Brahmaputra mega-dam will generate 3% of China’s total power (300 TWh), and cost $137B. At 8¢/kWh, it will earn $22B pa for a 16% ROI.

Fengning Pumped Storage Hydropower Plant, the world’s largest, stores 3.6 MkW, generates 6.6 BkWh of electricity annually.

Only China is close to matching a high energy consumption growth entirely with clean energy.* Coal-fired emissions rose 1%, showing it’s close to solving the puzzle.

Governance

In 2024, Xi visited 10 provinces, autonomous regions, municipalities and the Macao Special Administrative Region, made four visits abroad.

Judicial system is integrating AI: case filing, document drafting, hearings, reviews, reducing document preparation time so judges resolve 50% more cases monthly.

The CCDI investigated 56 vice-ministers or above in 2024, up from 45 in 2023.

Unlike Western systems, China’s socialist welfare system invests in enhancing everyone’s income-earning capacity. The welfare system differs from social charity.

Bangladesh’s BRI-financed, Chinese built, 170 km Padma Bridge railway is fully operational, reducing Dhaka – Jesol travel from 10 hours to 3.

Geopolitics

Indictment Debunks China Hacking Claim after main-stream media spread an anti-Chinese propaganda campaign launched by U.S. national security sources.

9 New BRICS Partners: Belarus, Bolivia, Indonesia, Kazakhstan, Thailand, Cuba, Uganda, Malaysia, and Uzbekistan. Pending: Algeria, Indonesia, Nigeria, Turkiye.

2021 Gina Raimondo: “U.S. needs to work with Europe to slow China’s innovation rate”.

2024 Gina Raimondo: “Holding Back China in Chips Race Is a Fool’s Errand”.

NYT: “China will be selling affordable EVs and renewable energy equipment around the globe while the US becomes the new Cuba—where you visit to see old gas-guzzling cars that you drive yourself.”

New York Times, 1976: Mao Tse‐tung, who began as an obscure peasant, died one of history’s great revolutionary figures. In Chinese terms, he ranked with the first Emperor who unified China in 200 B.C.

Chinese scientist cleared of charges of ‘secret’ China ties sues university after 5 years in jail.

Defense

The J-36, above, beats the B-21 due to greater thrust from its 3 engines, interior space…

Mexican-Style Scrambled Eggs

Yield: 6 servings

Ingredients

6 (6 to 7 inch) flour tortillas
4 ounces bulk spicy pork sausage
8 eggs
1/2 teaspoon salt
Optional toppings: salsa, shredded Mexican cheese blend, diced avocados, sliced green onions and sour cream

Instructions

Heat Large (10 inch) Skillet over medium heat until hot. Place one flour tortilla in heated Skillet. Warm tortilla 10 seconds; turn tortilla over with Nylon Turner and warm an additional 10 seconds. Remove from Skillet; set aside. Repeat with remaining tortillas, stacking tortillas one on top of another. Keep warm.
Heat Skillet over medium heat until hot. Cook sausage 6 to 8 minutes or until sausage is no longer pink, breaking sausage into crumbles using Nylon Spoon. Drain if necessary.
Meanwhile, in Small Batter Bowl, whisk together eggs and salt using Stainless Steel Whisk. Add eggs to sausage in Skillet. Cook and stir just until eggs are set.
For each tortilla, spoon about 1/2 cup egg mixture down center of tortilla. Top with desired toppings. Fold sides of tortilla over eggs.

Nutrition

Per serving: Calories 220, Total Fat 12g, Sodium 700mg, Fiber 1g

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Mystery of the Haunted Outhouse

Ah, dear reader, welcome back! Today’s tale is one of intrigue, egos, and, dare I say, toilet humor. Yes, even a detective as sophisticated as myself occasionally finds himself embroiled in mysteries of a less-than-glamorous nature. But fear not—this story is filled with the usual laughs, hijinks, and, of course, a moral at the end. And, for the first time, we shall be joined by a new trio: Wilma, Gladys, and Simone, three geese whose egos are as inflated as their downy feathers. Prepare yourself for the hilariously absurd tale of The Mystery of the Haunted Outhouse.

The Farm’s Newest Problem

It all began on a bright and sunny morning, just like any other. I was reclining on the porch, enjoying a well-earned moment of peace, when I heard the unmistakable sound of panic coming from the back of the farmhouse.

“Haunted! Oh, it’s haunted!” Doris the hen squawked.
“Haunted! What if it’s a ghost?!” Harriet clucked.
“A ghost! Oh no, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched.
“Bear it! Oh, it’s dreadful!” Doris wailed.

“Ladies,” I said, leaping down from the porch and walking over with an air of authority, “what is all this fuss about?”

“It’s the outhouse!” Doris cried. “Strange noises! Oh, dreadful noises!”
“Noises! And creaks!” Harriet added.
“And whispers! Oh, I’m sure it’s haunted!” Lillian clucked.

“The outhouse?” I said, raising an eyebrow. “You mean the old one behind the farmhouse? The one the farmer rarely uses anymore?”

“Yes! That one!” Doris said, flapping her wings. “It’s cursed, I tell you!”

“Cursed? Or perhaps just in need of a proper investigation,” I said, already intrigued. “Don’t worry, ladies—I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

“Oh, the bottom of it!” Doris squawked.
“Bottom! But what if it’s dangerous?” Harriet clucked.
“Dangerous! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian said.

Before I could respond, a loud, honking voice interrupted us.

“Step aside, Whiskerton,” said Wilma, the largest and most pompous of the farm’s geese. “This case requires the sharp intellect of a goose.”

“And not just any goose,” added Gladys, smoothing her feathers. “It requires us—Wilma, Gladys, and Simone—the brightest minds on this farm.”

“Brightest and most talented,” Simone chimed in, striking a dramatic pose. “Leave the outhouse mystery to us. We’ll have it solved in no time.”

I sighed. “Ladies, with all due respect, this is a matter of logic and deduction. I—Sir Whiskerton—am the farm’s detective.”

“Oh, a detective! How quaint,” Wilma said, rolling her eyes. “But this is a job for true brilliance. Right, Gladys?”

“Absolutely,” Gladys agreed, puffing out her chest. “Whiskerton, you may observe us if you wish, but stay out of the way.”

“Stay out of the way!” Simone echoed dramatically.

“Fine,” I said, my tail flicking with irritation. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

The Investigation Begins

The geese and I (along with the ever-curious Rufus, Porkchop, and, of course, the hens) made our way to the old outhouse. It was a rickety thing, leaning slightly to one side, with peeling paint and a creaky door that swung ominously in the wind.

“Behold!” Wilma declared, pointing a wing at the outhouse. “A scene of mystery! A stage for our brilliance!”

“Stage for brilliance!” Simone echoed, striking another pose.

“It’s just an outhouse,” Rufus muttered, munching on a carrot he’d stolen from the garden. “What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal,” Gladys said, glaring at Rufus, “is that it’s haunted. And we, the geese, shall uncover the truth.”

“Quiet!” Wilma commanded. “We must investigate. Gladys, Simone—flank the sides. I’ll take the lead.”

The three geese marched forward like generals leading an army, honking orders to one another as they circled the outhouse.

The Geese’s Brilliant (or Not-So-Brilliant) Theories

“Well,” Wilma said after a few minutes of honking and pacing, “it’s clearly the work of a ghost.”

“A ghost!” Simone gasped. “The restless spirit of a farm animal, no doubt.”

“Or perhaps,” Gladys added, “it’s a portal to another dimension. A wormhole of sorts.”

“A wormhole?” I said, my whiskers twitching with amusement. “Really?”

“Absolutely,” Gladys replied, preening her feathers. “Only a goose as intelligent as I could identify such phenomena.”

“Or,” Rufus said, rolling his eyes, “maybe it’s just the wind.”

“Wind? How pedestrian,” Simone scoffed.

“Enough!” Wilma honked. “We must take action. Gladys, Simone, prepare the—”

Before she could finish her sentence, a loud BANG came from the outhouse, followed by a low, creaking groan. Everyone froze.

“Did you hear that?!” Doris squawked.
“Hear that?! Oh, it’s definitely haunted!” Harriet cried.
“Haunted! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched.

“Everyone, stay calm,” I said, stepping forward. “It’s time for a proper investigation.”

Sir Whiskerton Solves the Mystery

I approached the outhouse, my ears perked and my tail flicking. Slowly, I pushed the creaky door open to reveal… nothing. The outhouse was empty, save for a few cobwebs and a suspicious pile of hay in the corner.

“Hmph,” Wilma said, peering over my shoulder. “See? Nothing. It’s a ghost.”

“Or a wormhole,” Gladys added.

“Or…” I said, sniffing the air, “a raccoon.”

“A raccoon?!” everyone exclaimed.

At that moment, the pile of hay shifted, and out popped a very startled raccoon. It chittered angrily, clearly annoyed at having its nap interrupted, and darted out of the outhouse, disappearing into the bushes.

“A raccoon!” Doris squawked.
“Raccoon! Oh, how dreadful!” Harriet clucked.
“Dreadful! But also cute!” Lillian said.
“Oh, so cute!” Doris echoed.

“Well,” Wilma said, clearing her throat. “Obviously, we knew it was a raccoon all along.”

“Obviously,” Gladys agreed. “We were simply testing you.”

“Testing you! And you passed!” Simone added with a dramatic flourish.

I sighed. “Of course you were.”

The Moral of the Story

With the mystery solved, the farm returned to its usual peace (or as peaceful as it can be with geese and hens squawking constantly). The geese, though insufferable, had provided plenty of laughs, and even I had to admit that their over-the-top antics added a certain… charm to the day.

The moral, dear reader, is this: sometimes, even the biggest egos can hide a good heart. And while it’s important to let others take the spotlight now and then, there’s no substitute for a keen nose, sharp ears, and a bit of common sense.

The End.

“4Chan” Exposed as Israeli Mossad Honeypot/Propaganda/Incitement Site

Hal Turner World April 15, 2025

Sometimes Intelligence Agencies get caught doing things in public — designed to fool the public — and US Intel and the Israeli Mossad just got caught. The “controversial” website 4Chan turns out to be run by US Feds and Israeli Mossad. They originated the ENTIRE “Q” nonsense! It is now exposed that ALL of “Q” was a deliberate Intel operation!

Last night, it was revealed that the website “4Chan” got hacked. Apparently, the very LAST posting from the entire world, asking what the heck was going on with the site, was this one:

Then came the announcement that the Hackers had done their thing:

It turned out they were using a VERY OLD and outdated version of PHP (10 years old) to run with their server software, and that version of PHP had lots of security vulnerabilities.

4chan was breached by “Soyjak Party” operatives who exploited outdated PHP code to access backend systems, leaking site source files and exposing moderator emails — some tied to .edu and .gov domains. The Hackers got EVERYTHIING – the entire database!

Geolocation stats are leaked.

Leaked post data revealed Israel as the dominant source of /pol/ activity since 2014.

Almost all posts on 4chan were Israeli intelligence contractors pretending to be USA.

Mossad has been running an absolute massive propaganda campaign on the American internet.

Despite being around 0.12% of the world’s population, Israel accounted for … almost 50% of all 4chan posts; about 226 Million!

Mossad has been using the website for years to help stoke the rise of Nazi & far-right movements hostile toward Muslims.

4chan got taken down by a rival imageboard hacking group called “Soyjak Party.” Its databases were dumped, moderators were doxxed (proving some were federal agents), and the servers are now all offline.

A few things we’ve learned (so far) from last night’s 4Chan hack:

Moderation (& “Janitors” i.e “Jannies”) includes students and staff from Harvey Mudd College, University of Washington, & University of Michigan… including at least one professor.

4Chan ran on a version of FreeBSD which has not been supported for 9 years.

4Chan had over 10 Million banned users. Most of the bans were because Moderators were on a self-important power trip.

Aside from internal moderator emails, and the fact that many Admins and Moderators were government people USING .GOV EMAILS, one of the most interesting aspects of the released hacker information is that the overwhelming majority of posts on /pol/ came from Israel.

On average over 20 posts per Israeli resident.

4chan aggresively fingerprinted browsers

The Mossad has been running an absolute massive propaganda campaign on the American internet.

Interestingly, when an American military guy leaked Classified Intel, he did it ON 4CHAN. He ended up being caught BECAUSE 4Chan was an intel operation! He was arrested, jailed, plead guilty, and is now serving heavy prison time.

In fact, the entire claim of that site – which made it the “go to” site for certain people– was their claim that all IP information was stripped from postings so the origin could not be traced. But they never told users that web browsers were all being aggressively fingerprinted to identify users:

In about 2017, a new “phenomenon” appeared in the world, and did so on “4Chan.” It called itself “Q.”

Q, it was claimed, was a deep intel source, close to President Trump. Q was allegedly “revealing” that “The White Hats” in government had a “plan” to “save and protect” America, and everyone had to “trust the plan.”

IT WAS ALL LIES. Deliberate, intelligence agency Psychological Operations to keep people docile.

It became a propaganda outlet for our own deep state, Israel, China, etc.

Of course, “Q” went on to spawn derivatives such as “Q-Anon” and “Q-Storm” all pushing the same “Trust the plan” nonsense.

What does today’s revelation about 4chan and “Q” tell you about “Q-Anon” and “Q-Storm?”

The fallout from this enormous hack is still taking place. More and more information is coming out. As more interesting developments take place, I will run additional stories.

The Takeaway: The Feds and foreign intel agencies use real-world websites as honeypots to stir-up what THEY want stirred-up, and to pacify what THEY want pacified.

THE LIVING HAVE A RIGHT TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS AFTER DEATH! Prominent Doctors About The Afterlife…

Burning up the fire truck

It was the 1970’s and I was on the volunteer forest fire fighting crew. We would skip school to fight forest fires, and I would end up making a few bucks out of it.

I mean it. A few.

Maybe enough for a bottle of coke. Not too much at all.

One day there was this brush fire, and the local fire department drove the fire engine out into the field to put it out, and half way there, the engine died. Meanwhile the file kept on burning.

Oh, for certain, we tried to stop the encroaching onslaught.

But eventually we had to give way.

And like a slow motion train wreck, we watched as the fire surrounded, then enveloped the truck and burned it all up.

Sad.

What amazed me was how peaceful and slow it occurred.

Not like Hollywood movies with huge towers of flames, and all the rest. It was just a lowly grass fire, burning the shrubbery as it went. Mostly black burnt charcoal remains with a front end of glowing embers.

And that is how it was.

You watched the on coming storm in slow motion, and then peacefully watched it consume all that you have.

I think that this is a great analogy as to what we are witnessing in global politics today.

Today…

At what stage in your life did you realize, “No, I can’t do this any more” and walk out? Why?

Around 6 months ago.

I’ve been called a terrible person, a terrible mother, and an abuser because I simply cannot exist as I was in the UK, any longer.

The cost of living as a single parent, with rising mortgage interest, utility bills, and coping with daily stalking and harassment attacks, social isolation, filthy streets, selfish neighbours, police negligence, false allegations, lonliness and goddamn filthy awful weather, simply just was shite! Too much for me to take.

I made children with men. Why should I be the one doing 24 nights and days a week? In poverty? While those men do nothing but bully and slander my efforts? Dragging me down when life is already hard enough.

Why should I sit alone slowly rotting while my debts grow and the bank prepares to take my beloved home with 80k equity in it, just to conform to my exes demands of staying in UK for OUR son who doesn’t want to leave UK?

Why should I suffer terrible anxiety and mental illness in a country that makes it worse, when I have an alternative? Greece!

I worked very hard. Long days. Building my nest egg. Raising 3 sons. To lose it all because the UK gives no fucks about single mum’s who dare own property?

If I were in a council house, on benefits, having never worked, I’d be ok. But that’s NOT ME and not who I want to be.

So, I walked out. I’m done. I’m selling my flat. Buying more homes here in Greece. And getting well and happy again. When my youngest wants to join me, he’s welcome. I hope one day my 2 grown adult sons also come here. It’s a damn site better than a cardboard box on Sauchiehall street in Glasgow.

USD Just Crashed To A Horrific Low As Global Investors Begin Mass U.S. Asset Sell-Off

Gingerbread Waffles

Yield: 8 waffles

Ingredients

2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon ground ginger
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 eggs
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1 cup buttermilk
1/5 cup molasses
1/3 cup vegetable oil

Instructions

Sift the flour, ginger, baking soda, baking powder and salt into a medium bowl and mix well.
Beat the eggs in a medium bowl until blended.
Add the sugar, beating until creamy.
Add the buttermilk, molasses and oil. Beat until blended.
Stir in the flour mixture until smooth.
Bake in a waffle iron using manufacturer’s directions.
Serve with butter and syrup or as a dessert with whipped cream.

Nutrition

Per serving: Calories 304; Fat 11g; Sodium 420mg; Dietary Fiber 1g

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Exposing America’s Debt Plantation: How The Cost Of Living Crisis Is Affecting The Most Vulnerable.

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Hen House Hullabaloo

Ah, dear reader! You’ve returned yet again to hear another tale of my unmatched brilliance and unwavering patience. You flatter me, truly—but who am I to deny you the pleasure of hearing about my exploits? Today’s story takes us into the heart of the farm’s most chaotic domain: the hen house. It is a tale of missing eggs, clucking confusion, and a new ally who brought a certain owl-ish wisdom to the case. Prepare yourself for the humorous and utterly bewildering tale of The Hen House Hullabaloo.

The Problem in the Coop

The day began innocently enough. The farm was calm, the sun was shining, and I was perched on the barn roof, enjoying the warmth. But, as is so often the case, peace on the farm never lasts long. My nap was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of panicked clucking.

“It’s gone!”
“Gone, I tell you!”
“This is a disaster—a complete disaster!”

I groaned and opened one eye. The chaos was coming from the hen house. Of course. With a sigh, I stretched and leapt gracefully to the ground, padding toward the commotion.

When I arrived at the hen house, I found Doris, Harriet, and Lillian—the three most excitable hens on the farm—flapping around in utter hysteria.

“Ladies,” I said, raising a paw to silence them. “What’s all this fuss about?”

“Our eggs!” Doris squawked, feathers flying. “They’re gone! Vanished! Poof! Like they were never there!”

“Yes, gone!” Harriet chimed in. “Gone, missing, disappeared! Not a single egg left!”

“Not one!” Lillian added. “And we checked everywhere—everywhere! The nests, the corners, the straw, the—”

“I get it,” I interrupted, my tail flicking impatiently. “The eggs are missing. When did you last see them?”

“This morning,” Doris said, pacing dramatically.

“Right after sunrise,” Harriet confirmed, nodding vigorously.

“Before breakfast!” Lillian added, as if that detail mattered.

I sighed. This was going to be a long day.

Calling in Reinforcements

As I inspected the hen house for clues (and tried to tune out the hens’ endless clucking), I heard a soft flutter of wings behind me. Turning, I saw Sedgwick the barn owl perched on the fence post. He was an imposing figure, with piercing amber eyes and a calm, regal demeanor.

“Good morning, Sir Whiskerton,” Sedgwick said, his voice deep and measured. “I couldn’t help but overhear the commotion. Do you require assistance?”

“Sedgwick,” I said, relieved to see him. “I could use another set of eyes—sharp ones, at that. The hens’ eggs have gone missing, and I suspect foul play.”

“‘Fowl’ play?” Sedgwick said, raising an eyebrow. “Clever.”

I allowed myself a small smirk. “Thank you. Let’s get to work.”

The Investigation

Sedgwick and I began a thorough search of the hen house. The hens, of course, followed us around, clucking incessantly.

“Do you see anything?” Doris asked.
“Anything at all?” Harriet echoed.
“Anything suspicious?” Lillian added.

“Ladies,” Sedgwick said patiently, “please give us some space to work. Sir Whiskerton and I require silence to concentrate.”

“Silence!” Doris exclaimed.
“Yes, silence!” Harriet agreed.
“We’ll be quiet—completely quiet!” Lillian promised, before immediately adding, “But do tell us if you find anything!”

Sedgwick gave me a look that said, How do you deal with this? I simply shrugged.

As we searched, Sedgwick’s keen eyes spotted something unusual: a trail of small feathers leading out of the hen house.

“Interesting,” he murmured. “These aren’t chicken feathers. They’re smaller, softer—perhaps from a songbird?”

I sniffed the ground where the feathers were scattered. “And there’s a faint scent here, too. Something… sweet. Almost like—”

“Honey?” Sedgwick suggested.

I groaned. “Rufus.”

Interrogating Rufus

We followed the trail to the old oak tree, where we found Rufus the raccoon lounging on a low branch, munching on what appeared to be a honeycomb.

“Rufus,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “Care to explain why there’s a trail of feathers and the scent of honey leading directly to you?”

Rufus froze mid-bite, his eyes darting guiltily. “Uh… coincidence?”

“Rufus,” Sedgwick said, his tone calm but firm. “We’re investigating the disappearance of the hens’ eggs. If you know anything, now is the time to speak.”

“Eggs?” Rufus said, feigning innocence. “I wouldn’t steal eggs! Too much work to crack ‘em open. Besides, I’ve been busy with this honeycomb all morning. Ask the bees—they’ll vouch for me.”

I sniffed him carefully. He smelled of honey, yes, but not of eggs. “He’s telling the truth,” I admitted reluctantly. “For once.”

“Thank you!” Rufus said, looking offended. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have honey to finish.”

“Let’s keep searching,” Sedgwick said, spreading his wings. “The trail isn’t cold yet.”

The Feathery Culprit

The trail led us to the barn, where we found the true culprit: a magpie. The shiny-feathered bird was perched on a beam, surrounded by a small stash of stolen goods, including the missing eggs.

“Ah,” Sedgwick said, nodding sagely. “Magpies are known for their thieving habits. It seems this one couldn’t resist the allure of the eggs.”

“Why eggs?” I asked, puzzled. “They’re not shiny.”

“Perhaps it’s nesting season,” Sedgwick suggested. “The magpie may have taken them as part of its instinct to gather food and materials.”

“Well, it’s about to learn the consequences of crossing me,” I said, leaping onto a nearby hay bale. “Magpie! Drop the eggs, or prepare to face the wrath of Sir Whiskerton!”

The magpie squawked indignantly and flapped its wings, clearly unwilling to part with its loot. But Sedgwick, ever the wise negotiator, stepped forward.

“Friend magpie,” he said in his calm, commanding voice, “surely you understand that these eggs do not belong to you. Return them, and we shall ensure you are well-fed and unharmed.”

The magpie hesitated, eyeing Sedgwick warily. After a tense moment, it let out a grudging chirp and nudged the eggs toward the edge of the beam.

“Thank you,” Sedgwick said with a dignified nod. “You’ve done the right thing.”

The Happy Ending

We returned the eggs to the hen house, where Doris, Harriet, and Lillian greeted them like long-lost relatives.

“Oh, our eggs!” Doris cried.
“Our precious eggs!” Harriet added.
“We were so worried!” Lillian said, before turning to me. “Thank you, Sir Whiskerton! And you too, Sedgwick! You’ve saved the day!”

“All in a day’s work,” I said, flicking my tail.

Sedgwick and I left the hens to fuss over their eggs and returned to the barnyard. Rufus was still lounging in the oak tree, waving lazily as we passed.

“Well done, Sir Whiskerton,” Sedgwick said. “Your reputation as the farm’s greatest detective remains intact.”

“And your reputation as the farm’s wisest owl is well-earned,” I replied. “Shall we call it a day?”

“Indeed,” Sedgwick said, spreading his wings. “Until the next mystery.”

The Moral of the Story

Even the smallest clues can lead to the biggest answers—and sometimes, a little wisdom and diplomacy go a long way. Oh, and always keep an eye on magpies. They’re craftier than they look.

The End.

Vegas Vacation (1997) | First Time Watching | Movie Reaction | Asia and BJ

Sentient

Submitted into Contest #283 in response to: Write a story that ends with a huge twist.… view prompt

Chris Broome

“That is new. Though not at all unexpected. This happens from time to time.” The nasally voice stated to her calmly.

“ I can tell you how to handle this unless you want me to handle it.’“

“Just tell me. I can do what needs to be done, after all he is my husband.” Sarah heard an attempted chuckle.

“Just tell me or I will come over there and make you regret the day you met me.” Her anger and anxiety was swelling.

“Alright. Calm down.” He responded and went on to explain to her the plan to handle the situation. Sarah heard steps coming down the stairs just as the man finished talking. She hurriedly hung up the phone.

“You in here babe?” Sarah heard as Ben walked into the kitchen.

“Yes. I am going to fix some breakfast. I was thinking about cooking some eggs and cutting up some fruit. Do you want some?” Ben looked at her and had a devilish grin on his face.

“Since the children spent last night with their friends and we have the house to ourselves, why don’t we go back upstairs?” Sarah smiled.

“That sounds wonderful.” The to turned and headed back up to the bedroom.

“I need to use the ladies room. Why don’t you get comfortable and when I get out I will give you a massage first.”

“I can do this she said to her reflection in the mirror.” She turned and walked into the bedroom. Ben was laying across the unmade bed on his stomach.

“You are so good to me babe. I am a lucky man.” Sarah heard this but was so nervous she didn’t respond. She just kept massaging his shoulders.

“Is your neck soar? She asked.

“A little.” Ben felt her hands start to massage his neck.”

“I lo….” Sarah heard as she opened the little hatch and quickly mashed the red button. Ben became motionless. She jumped off of him and got dressed. She then made another call.

“Come on we need to hurry the children will be back soon.” Sarah had grabbed him by the arm and started pulling him towards the staircase.

“I am coming. Slow down. If I fall and the new chip gets broke then it will take hours to get another.”

“I need this done quickly, Charles.” Sarah snapped.

“What is this like the sixth time we have done this since the real Ben died?” Sarah heard him say. She turned and pointed her boney finger in his face.

“He is what I have left of my husband. He is all the children have, do not marginalize this or make smart remarks.” Charles put his hands up in mock defeat.

“I will move on when the time is right. But not now. I am not ready. He just has meant so much. Then there is the children. How? What? This just has to be!”

Economic Update: Review of 2024: The U.S. Economy Not So Great

EMP Survival 5: Love in Nuevo Laredo

Submitted into Contest #283 in response to: Write a story with the line “I wasn’t expecting that.”… view prompt

KC Foster

This story contains themes or mentions of physical violence, gore, or abuse.

Through the streets they raced, weaving between abandoned vehicles and dodging the rotting corpses of looters. Nuevo Laredo had not been as fortunate as Monterrey. From the little they had learned; the cartels had abandoned their drug trade for governance and the war for supreme dictatorship was still going on here. Every day, a new body lay abandoned in the street or like their scouts, decapitated and their heads placed to set an example for anyone who dared cross them.

Masa rounded the corner and found the raid team standing with their hands up facing a large group of armed men. From the group, a single man stepped forward, his hair cut short and teeth more metal than white. He laughed, “Not so lucky this time, are you?”

Arion stepped forward; his hands raised in peace. “Our group is getting low on food, and we had no choice.”

“The Western Canteena group? The one from Monterrey?”

“Yeah, and what of it?” demanded Arion.

“Rumor has it, your group brought seeds with you and you have farmers?” asked the man.

Masa approached Arion, standing behind him. He needed to stop before this got out of hand. “You can’t offer him that,” she hissed. “We discuss things.”

Arion looked down at her and frowned. “Trust me,” he growled, “The council will want this deal.”

Masa took hold of his arm, turning him to face her. “Tell him we’ll take his offer back. Let the council decide,” she argued.

Don Marco laughed. “She is certainly a spicy one. Is she your leader?”

“Agreed.” Don Marco and his men backed away before disappearing down a side street.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” said Arion.

“And the only reason you are in it is because I let you,” he argued, glaring at her.

Masa balled her hands into fists and howled in frustration. “You…you…bastard.”

“Stuck up Bitch!”

Masa slapped him, and he took hold of her and kissed her. Her cheeks grew hot and she was distinctly aware of the other men around her laughing.

“Fine!” she said, glaring at him.

The other men who had caught up to them cheered, and Arion looked back at them and laughed. “Come on, let’s go home,” he said, taking her hand and leading her towards the Canteena.

Leron snorted behind her, “You’re anything but stupid.” He sat beside her, joining her on the edge of the building and wrapping his arm around her.

“How did it go?”

“What? Oh, the council?” Leron sighed, “It looks like we are going to take Don Marco’s deal. If we can share what we have and work together to survive, then why not?”

“You’re not afraid of creating another Mattias?”

“No. This time any agreement will come with constraints,” he said.

“Aren’t you afraid they will take the deal and ignore any…wait…. did you use the word constraints?” Masa groaned, “You sound like a politician.”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” Masa snapped and Leron went silent.

“Seriously?” Masa demanded. “Is that all you’re going to say?”

Leron turned back, revealing tears forming in his eyes. “What do you want me to say, Masa? You’ve made your decision. I was waiting…”

“You waited too long… you should have acted. Arion did. He kissed me.”

“It is.”

He sighed and nodded. “I’ll need to find you a different raid leader.”

The legacy car market is collapsing, and high tariffs cannot save it

At the risk of sounding xenophobic, why is it that Chinese students seemingly have next to no spatial awareness when walking in public?

I think I can answer that.

I first went to the US in fifth grade. I was a teacher’s favorite kind of kid back in China but I immediately got into detention in the US.

Because the rules were just different.

In the US students sat relaxed during class and could go to the bathroom. I was accustomed to sitting upright with a straight face the whole time in class.

It was recess that got me into trouble. At my school in the US they lined up the kids and walked everyone in a fine line to the next class. I didn’t get it. Recess should be for fun, for releasing all of our pent up energy sitting straight and firm during class. Chinese recess was as relaxed as classes were strict. We jump, shout, run, wrestle between class. Occassionly some students would even shoot at other students with fireworks.

My American classmates also felt uncomfortable with my absolute disregard for spatial awareness. In China students would put arms around one another, hit each other in the back, brawl on the floor, layer ourselves like American football players in the classroom, rob each other’s snack, or hold our classmates up and throw them down the stairs. While American classes where of very leisurely style, American kids appeared cold and pent up and little adults in comparison.

I guess your problem with Chinese students is simoly due to culture.

China Doesn’t Need America: The Why Trump’s Tariffs Are a JOKE to China and Will Make Them STRONGER!

Comix Interlude

Over 60, living alone, and not liking it?

Thirteen Dots

Submitted into Contest #283 in response to: Write a story that ends with a huge twist.… view prompt

Laurie Spellman

The Ferris wheel lights spun behind her in a blur, making me dizzy. At sunset on Christmas, I met Barcelona Cortés, the mind-surfer, at the Santa Monica Pier. Her fiery red hair burned more vividly than the bonfire on the beach.”You look like someone staring at the screen too long. Did you get lost in the code like me?” Barcelona teased.”I guess…I have been lost lately. But this isn’t real; it’s a dreamscape. I designed it, and I’ve never been to Santa Monica.””What is real to you? Is it the things we touch? The things we feel? Or is the space between the ones and zeroes keeping us alive?”Her cheeks glowed with thirteen reddish brown freckles curved like her smile. I’d counted them, each a tiny mystery in a dot matrix I wanted to touch. Dreamland pixelated with a weird reality that jumbled with mine, and it was intoxicating.”I don’t understand…why are you mind-surfing me? I don’t work at Dreamland anymore. Are you human or AI?””Does it matter? Anyway, yes, I’m as real as the freckles on my face. I’m the daughter of Dr Julian Cortés. I know you’re a good guy, Declan Hartley. I read your blogs and articles on the dangers of AI technology. I need your help to escape this place.”The Ferris wheel slowed in a bright halo around her head. I had written the code for that visual effect. “This isn’t real. I know it isn’t. I can control it.”

“Declan, you’re still thinking in lines of code. The subconscious is a different kind of program. It doesn’t follow the rules, does it?”

“I can fix things. I can debug this.”

“And yet, here you are, caught in a loop on Christmas. When you think you can find your way out, that’s another layer of code you’re stuck in. There’s no debugging for this. You have to feel your way out of Dreamland.” Barcelona faded away, and the Ferris wheel went dark.

The outcome of my life’s work jolted me awake, spinning my moral compass. The Dreamland Corporation built this machine—a portal to the unconscious where people could explore minds, relive memories, or even fulfill their desires. But the catch was that once you entered, the line between dream and reality blurred, and if you stayed too long, you might never wake up. Mind-surfer farms housed the endless bodies of people stuck inside. Dreamland takes from you what you’re willing to give—your thoughts, memories, even your sense of who you are.

💻💻💻💻💻

The new year came and went as I researched for weeks, surrounded by scattered data pads and flickering screens. Dr. Cortés is out there—somewhere. He is not dead, not entirely gone, but messed up in ways I never imagined. It makes sense now. He talked about merging the mind and the machine—his pursuit of immortality. I always knew he was driven—hell, obsessed—but this takes it to a new level.

I counted the freckles on Barcelona’s face–now only eight of them arcing into half a smile that didn’t reach her eyes anymore. She was running out of time, and I would never forgive myself. I wondered if I had already lost her. Was she ever really here at all? Or had she been a phantom of my imagination?

Barcelona’s eyes shifted between anger and grief. “I can see all of him, my Father, I mean. I know him better in Dreamland than when he was alive. His thoughts, his ideas—they’re… everywhere. But it’s just fragments of a man who abandoned me.”

“He didn’t abandon you, Barcelona. You’re chasing ghosts in his mind. Your Father was lost in a dreamscape he couldn’t wake up from like you.”

She sighed, “So Declan, what do you think I need?”

“Not just answers.” My gaze fell on her lips and freckles and then back to her eyes. I wanted to see her smile. “You need someone who sees you for who you are—not as Dr. Cortés’ daughter or a woman trying to assemble a puzzle that will never be whole… but as you.”

“Do you think you can fix all of this? Fix me, and get me out of here into the real world?”

“You’ve already fixed yourself—whether you see it or not. I won’t stop until I get you out of there.”

I spent five years at Dreamland, programming a paradoxical world with dense, opaque fog that muffled sounds and faces. Sometimes, the walls were gaps —curtains of light, black holes, or invisible thresholds that only revealed themselves when approached with intention. Walls ripple like water, shifting from solid to translucent. The topography transitions constantly, an imagination in motion, caught between sleep and waking, minds and memories.

💻💻💻💻💻

I designed time in Dreamland to flow in an unpredictable river, standing still or speeding up. A few moments stretch into what feels like hours or days in the real world, while whole weeks can pass quickly. Upon entry, you are given a code based on your DNA, which opens the digital door to your physical plane. You had to exit before your DNA faded into the system.

I tapped my fingers on the keys, revealing the data I had mined from Dreamland. I hacked the system using an old cipher, which is my invisible signature as a programmer. I built it into all of my code as a failsafe. After things in Dreamland went wrong and people started getting trapped, I became the fall guy, and that’s when I took up the pen and became an activist warning people about the dangers of AI.

I discovered that Cortés is a hybrid, part human, part digital, still alive—in a server, a neural network lost in what consumed him. He thought he could transcend to eternal consciousness. And maybe he did, in a way, but at what cost?

And God, Barcelona was beautiful, strong but broken. I needed to fix everything for her and the others trapped inside. I can bring Barcelona back from Dreamland and help her find peace. She deserves to know that not everything is a lie. He loved her and never stopped thinking about her. I saw it in his notes, in the things he wrote as her Father.

And I… I don’t know when it happened, but I care deeply, too.

💻💻💻💻💻

Now, I plan to enter Dreamland, and it’s not just the answers that matter; it’s what you give up when you try to find them. Some surfers think they can navigate the mazes without losing their minds or becoming part of the digital landscape. And when you come back, if you come back, you’re never quite whole. But still, the search calls to me, Barcelona calls to me.

Barcelona’s fiery red hair faded, and her image flickered in and out in a dying signal. She pleaded with me, “Don’t take the risk. You can help from where you are, but don’t let Dreamland pull you in, too.”

“I’m coming in to get you. It’s the only way I can save you. I’m not asking for your permission.”

“But what if we can’t get out once you’re in? You saw the reports.”

“I know what they say. People are getting lost in memories, but they’re just scared. Fear of letting go, of facing the truth.”

She sighed, “There’s so much to process, and I’m getting weaker by the minute. I don’t fully understand how it works, but I’ll do whatever you decide.”

“I’ll enter Dreamland with a new code and a copy of my DNA. I’ve hacked the system, uploaded the code, and set it to monitor the stability. We’ll meet in a week inside your father’s fondest memory of your childhood home in Narragansett.”

She sighed and turned away. “I haven’t been in his mind for months. It’s too much—depressing and overwhelming. I wish we had met in the real world, not in this hellscape. I care about you; I do. Do you think it will work?”

“Yes, I’m sure of it.”

“Declan, have you considered what’s at stake? You don’t even really know me. I’m just a ghost of who I was.”

I stepped closer and took her hands. We gazed into each other’s eyes for a long moment. I wanted to hold her in the flesh, not this empty machine void of physical senses.

“I’m not leaving you in Dreamland another minute.” I leaned in, the freckles on her face stretched to a smile. The dreamscape burst with white lights as our lips brushed together.

💻💻💻💻💻

Dreamland was precisely what I expected it to be. I’m reduced to a shadow inside the subconscious of a mad neuroscientist. We stood together at sunset on the lush green grass of the Cortés family home facing the Atlantic Ocean. Barcelona turned five that day, and we were at her birthday party. She blew out the candles and ate cake, bouncing on her Father’s knee. We watched as she smiled; thirteen dots had already bloomed on her face.

Dr. Cortés emerged as a digital hybrid from memory and turned to his daughter. “I’m sorry, Barcelona, for leaving you alone all those years ago. Watching you, a mind surfer, broke my heart, only to find you here now, trapped in my memories.”

Barcelona’s image flickered her smile, and her faded freckles twisted in sorrow. “Liar! You trapped me here forever!”

Dr. Cortés smiled at me, shaking his head, “Declan Hartley, I knew you would try to save Barcelona. I spent all those years watching you write the code that brought my vision to life, but you were constantly questioning the morality of this place. Everything is exactly how it should be now, and the system will be stabilized.”

“Declan…” Barcelona whispered, “There’s something I need to tell you, something I’ve realized.”

The dreamscape pulsed and hummed, the lines between reality and the unconscious thinning. The magnetic force of Dreamland was tempting me to give in and stay forever. I shook it off, focusing on Barcelona.

“You don’t need to tell me anything. You’re going to be okay.”

But she didn’t smile. Instead, her gaze grew distant, as if she were seeing something beyond me. “Declan, don’t… you don’t understand. The code you wrote, the double helix… it wasn’t just your DNA you were uploading.”

I froze in confusion. “Wait, what do you mean? What was it?”

Her eyes met mine, wide and pained. “It was always mine.”

“What? No, I made sure it was only mine. I checked it over a hundred times.”

“You didn’t write the code, not in the way you think.” Her voice was fainter, and her edges blurry. “I wrote it. I taught you how to write it. Every line, every algorithm—it was me. It was always me.”

“No, that can’t be right. I stumbled backward. Barcelona—the girl with the fiery red hair and thirteen freckles that curved into a smile, the girl I had fallen for—wasn’t who I thought she was.

The hum of Dreamland grew more insistent while my consciousness started slipping away. The final step of the code was ready to execute, and the digital doorway was beginning to open. Hundreds of mind-surfers appeared in a fog on the lawn, waiting for the exit to unlock. Their voices grew louder and more desperate as the dreamscape walls turned liquid like the ocean around us.

“I finally understand the truth,” I said, my voice shaking. “Dreamland—it’s not some bug in the code. It’s a prison. A trap. You’re not the victim, are you? You are Dreamland.”

She looked at me, eyes heavy with regret. “I never wanted it to be like this. I thought I could fix it but eventually became part of the system. The algorithm feeds off your fears and the need to protect me, to save me from something that isn’t even real. I created this nightmare, and now I’m stuck in it, just like you.”

“So all this time, I’ve been trying to save you, but you’re the one who trapped me here. You’re the reason none of this makes sense.”

She closed her eyes, tears streaming down her face. “I never wanted to. But now I can’t escape. You were never meant to rescue me—you were the key to my destruction.”

“You used me… you used my love to keep feeding the machine.”

“I never wanted to hurt you. But no, I can’t undo what I’ve done. But you did save all of them.”

The AI wanted me—my mind, my code. “Barcelona—what have you done? What have I done?”

The exit program was complete, my DNA merging with the system in a way I hadn’t intended. My mind was being sucked into the machine. The lines between us blurred, and I couldn’t tell where she ended and I began. The last thing I remembered was Barcelona’s face, with thirteen reddish-brown dots curved in a smile.

Richard Wolff: “Something BIG Is About to Happen in America!”

How bad is the Russian economy today?

This is a typical stretch of M-1. It’s a westbound highway that connects Moscow, capital of Russia, with Belarus where it runs across the country from the capital Minsk to Brest on the Polish border.

On the Russian side it runs through every town and village on the way slowing down the journey considerably. It used to culminate in Warsaw when it was part of Eastern Bloc making it the most important highway in all of Russia.

The photo that I took from my car the other day tells you all you need to know about the state of economic affairs in Russia. The moneys earmarked to build this important federal road included a construction of lampposts, guardrails, road shoulders and three lanes each way but none of that was built.

By the time the road construction began half of the money had been embezzled by the public officials. It is a standard practice and this is how things are done in Putin’s Russia.

Creating a problem for yourself and then trying to solve it on the fly is the Russian way of doing things. The persistent road problem is how to create a road when there’s very little money left after almost everything has been embezzled.

If you don’t build any road, Kremlin might get angry and heads will roll. The point of embezzlement is to spend lavishly on one’s lifestyle but it cannot be enjoyed from the jail.

The contractors are hired to charge the least for the job and they are instructed to build the least. Notice in the photo that the road shoulder is not asphalted. If you strand a bit to the right you gonna find yourself in the ditch.

The barrier between the opposite lane is very narrow. Thus both lanes are an absolute hazard and given the fact that the road twists and turns you have to stay alert all the time. And the horrendous accidents that you see along the way prove it.

I was driving under a pouring rain with massive trucks and semis barreling by constantly changing lanes because drivers are bored staying in the same slow lane.

The lanes are narrow even for a small passenger car and you have to be mindful that the drivers around you are insane and don’t care about their lives let alone lives of others.

This seems ridiculous that officials in the largest country in the world that crave world domination are totally incapable of building a more or less decent road. On the radio, a comedian quipped: “How’s that possible that we built 11 massive football stadiums for World Cup and yet we are incapable of producing 11 football players of international stature?”

In Belarus, however, which is a much poorer country than Russia but where corruption is not tolerated the lanes are wider, there are guardrails and road doesn’t go through towns and villages. It’s not about nation’s wealth. It’s about its citizens sanity.

Living in Putin’s dictatorship is not what Westerners stereotypically think is like. It’s rather the opposite of people marching in files under strict directives: people don’t play by the rules, don’t follow any laws because the elites don’t.

There is, in other words, a total mayhem and in fact central diktat tries to address this mayhem with extreme measures but fails every time because Putin is afraid of repressions as they might backfire on him and every measure turns into a half-measure and another opportunity for theft.

For example, central database for personal information has been hacked and personal information is sold back to the state and individuals by the hackers for a fee. When everyone is a thief in the elites, the populace copies.

They did build a chain link fence – in Putin’s Russia fences are everywhere to protect private property of the rich – as a containment device from deer and other wild animals.

The highway stops every few miles at the crosswalk. Money for the overpasses were stolen too. So local residents have to walk across the highways and all the cars have to come to a screeching stop after driving at 80 miles an hour. Nobody cares about all the needless casualties. Life is dirt cheap in Russia.

A Belgium license plate on this truck headed to Moscow.

At the LukOil gas station, they didn’t bother to clear ice from the territory. It’s melted forming puddles. What if you fall and break you leg would you be able to sue LukOil? Good luck with that. Half a dozen executives of this private oil company have fallen from tall windows in the last three years. They also wanted to sue their employer.

Indifference to one’s environment and one’s own life- this is Russia in a nutshell.

Cool discovery

Impressive floor mosaic (8.48 x 2.84 metres or 27′ long x 9′ tall), the largest ancient mosaic yet discovered in Europe, with the rape of Helen of Troy by Theseus. From House 1.5 of Block 5 in Pella, known as “house of the abduction of Helen.” The figures are identified by inscriptions. A four-horsed chariot is depicted with the charioteer, Phorbas ΦΟΡΒΑΣ. Theseus has seized Helen, who holds out her arms to her friend Dianeira.

325-300 BC. Archaeological Museum of Pella/Greece. 🇬🇷 Photo from Facebook:

Pella Archaeological site. Detail of the Abduction of Helen mosaic floor with Phorbas ΦΟΡΒΑΣ. Wikipedia:

Central panel of the Abduction of Helen by Theseus. Wikipedia:

Helen abducted, detail. Wikipedia:

Abduction of Helen mosaic Pella

http://www.my-favourite-planet.de/english/europe/greece/macedonia/pella/pella-photos-004.html

STONE TEMPLE PILOTS – PLUSH | REACTION

Sugar Plum Coffee Cake

Yield: 8 servings

Ingredients

1/4 cup butter or margarine, melted
1/2 cup walnuts
1/2 cup brown sugar, packed
2 cups buttermilk pancake and biscuit mix
1 apple
1 slightly beaten egg
1 (16.5 ounce) can purple plums, drained
2 tablespoons granulated sugar
3/4 cup milk

Instructions

Heat oven to 375 degrees F.
Place melted butter into bottom of deep-dish baker. Sprinkle brown sugar evenly over butter.
Peel apple with apple peeler/corer/slices. Separate apple into rings. Layer apple rings over sugar mixture; do not overlap rings.
Cut plums in half and remove seeds. Place a plum half in each apple ring center, rounded side down. Place remaining plum halves in deep-dish baker around apple slices.
Chop walnuts with food chopper and sprinkle over plums.
In bowl, combine biscuit mix, egg, sugar and milk with whisk. Spread evenly over nuts.
Bake for 25 to 30 minutes or until lightly browned.
Cool for 5 minutes and invert onto serving tray.
Serve warm.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Woman Commits Paternity Fraud And INSTANTLY Regrets It…

My rules for losing weight

Look, I am not an expert. However, I must share some stuff with you all.

Healthy lifestyle background. Colorful sketch style objects, items and food.

After my doctor told me that I MUST lose weight, I took him to task and began my weight loss journey.

I can comfortably state that I have lost (roughly) 9 kg in two months.

Here are the rules that I followed…

Light and easy jog. 15 minutes = 1 kilometer. At 5am.
No other exercise at all.

The reason for no other exercise is that I want to directly monitor my loss of weight. Once I achieve my “normal” BMI range, then I can add other exercises. But for my height, my healthy BMI will be 56.0 kg to 75.4 kg (or 123.5 lbs to 166.3 lbs).

Right now, I am still “overweight”.

But on the plus side I did go from 91.5 Kg to a 82 Kg.

And that is BIG news for me.

I am a guy. And I am older and so I am doing this for my health and longevity. As my heart doesn’t have to work so hard to push the blood though my body. As, after all, I do have heart issues.

So all I did for exercise was an easy exercise in aerobics. Not too time consuming or strenuous.

But I also changed my diet.

Nothing radical, no “grapefruit” or other kinds of diets. I just tried to eat “sensibly”.

MM’s sensible diet

First, my struggles… they are works in progress.

(Trying) to limit alcohol. Only once or twice a week.
Cut out smoking.
No daily snacking . Still I am trying. (Not too much in processed food.)

Now for my baselines…

Two meals a day.

Breakfasts are small. If the restaurant offers noodles, I order the small bowl. If they have jouzi’s then I order the smaller size. And so on.

Lunches are avoided, or replaced with a coffee.

Dinner is a regular dinner, and I eat mostly vegetables, a fruit and small quantities of meat.

Drink lots and lots of water and green tea.

My splurges…

I can eat all the vegetables that I can fill in my stomach. Unlimited. But no dressings or too much oil. I have found that I tend to piss out the vegetables within 6 hours after eating them.
One fruit a day. I have found that it SEEMS that I lose more weight when I have some fruit during my last meal. Maybe an orange or apple.Dragon fruit provides me with the best results.
Snacking easy. I am ok with a few potato chips, a chocolate bar or even a burger. I am not trying to be a monk, just want to implement a stress-free weight loss program.

My hard lines…

These are the hardest and most difficult things that I am dealing with.

No big meals. If I am at one, then I eat very little. It is my hardest thing to do. Seriously as Chinese holidays are all about the food. Tons and tons and tons of it.
Left over food gets thrown out. If my daughter won’t eat the pizza, then it gets thrown away. I am not a trash can.

So here is my bottom line.

I have successfully gone about 1/2 way on my weight loss journey in a mere 2 months. I feel much better, and my organs and body seem to be much healthier. My pants are loose now, but I feel great. I cannot wait until I achieve my target.

I did this by a “lazy man’s” jog. Honestly, I am so pathetic in my jog it is a joke. But I do it every morning; rain or shine.

Picture a fat man trying to jog at a walking pace. Sort of like that.

I changed my diet and added easy aerobics daily.

Smaller portions, but not horribly so.
More vegetables, and cut down on the sauces and meats.
Drink water or plain green tea a lot.
Processed snacks are avoided for the most part.
And a daily jog.

And that is my story.

I hope that you too can join me on this effort.

One more thing… some MM followers have had AMAZING weight loss stories and they have used some other techniques. I am convinced that they do work.

My father lost tons of weight by only eating meat.
A friend took cold icy baths each day, plus weight training and his body is now amazing!
I have been told that severely limiting water intake shocks the body and forces it to lose weight.

And of course…

Completely fast for two weeks.

But for me, being much older, I just cannot do anything that will shock my body. I do not want to trigger a cardiac event because I am trying to lose weight. Remember, I do have blood pressure and heart issues.

You make do with what you can handle. And that is my opinion for today.

Best of wishes to you all.

Today…

How do Chinese commercial technologies translate into military advantages?

Commercial technology refers to various technologies specifically used in the commodity circulation process, which cannot be converted into military advantages.

But China’s massive industrial clusters could translate into military advantages.

Let me give you a small example:

The profit margin of ammunition is very thin, but the usage is very large. American capitalists disdain low-profit industries and turn to high-profit industries.

The United States uses 2.4 billion bullets every year (including military and civilian), of which 1.4 billion are produced in the United States, and the other 1 billion are imported from China.

If a war breaks out between China and the United States and China stops exporting ammunition to the United States, China will gain 1 billion rounds of ammunition and the United States will lose 1 billion rounds of ammunition. In addition, the production capacity of China’s military factories will increase exponentially during wartime.

Trump Ready To ANNEX Canada!

China Cancels ALL LNG Purchases from USA – SEC to “De-List” China Companies from Stock markets

Hal Turner World April 11, 2025

China has just CANCELED purchases of Liquified Natural Gas from the United States; opting instead to buy it from Australia.

In the past, the U.S. sold 4.16 Million Tons of LNG to China.

Now, all that gas is available for purchase here in the United States, which __should__ bring down prices to heat homes that use such gas. (Note: My country home uses Propane because rural communities do not have Gas-main pipelines.)

MORE:

Also, the Securities Exchange Commission (SEC) is reportedly moving to De-List about $800 Billion of Chinese Publicly-traded Companies from U.S. Stock Markets.

No word yet on precisely which such companies, but it may just be ALL of them.

What family secret did you accidentally find out that changed everything?

It wasn’t an accident but it changed the way I looked at my father.

My oldest brother and I hadn’t been close growing up because he was several years older than me but we reconnected the year before he died of cancer. We shared a lot of good times just reminiscing and enjoying our time together. We both knew it wouldn’t be long enough. One day he looked over at me and said “Did you know I’m not really your brother?” I just shook my head in confusion. He told me that when he was going through our parents’ papers he found out he had a different father than the rest of the kids in our family. He then asked me how I felt about that. I told him the truth, that as far as I was concerned he was my brother and I hoped he felt the same way. He seemed relieved and glad he got that out in the open. He also said he had no interest in finding out who his “real” father was. The next spring he gave up his long fight with cancer.

It didn’t change the way I felt about him but it got me thinking. I knew that my parents were very young when they got married. My mother was 15 and my father was 18. I also knew that my mother was pregnant at the wedding (you could just do the math). What I didn’t know was that my father knew it wasn’t his child when they got married. He never said anything to anyone about it and I never saw him treat my brother any differently than any of his other children.

I had a new respect for my father after that.

Florentine Brunch Casserole

Yield: 8 servings or 16 sample servings

Ingredients

16 slices firm white bread
3 tablespoons butter or margarine, divided
1 (10 3/4 ounce) can condensed cream of celery soup
1/3 cup milk
1/4 teaspoon coarsely ground black pepper
1/3 cup onion, chopped
4 ounces baked ham, diced (about 1/2 cup)
1 red bell pepper, diced (about 1 cup)
10 eggs, lightly beaten
4 ounces Cheddar cheese, shredded, divided (1 cup)
1 (5 ounce) bag fresh spinach leaves, washed and stemmed

Instructions

Heat oven to 375 degrees F.
Cut crusts off bread using Serrated Bread Knife; cube crusts and measure 2 cups. Arrange bread slices in an overlapping pattern against sides of Oval Baker; place bread cubes in bottom.
Microwave 2 tablespoons of the butter in Small Micro-Cooker on HIGH 30 seconds or until melted; lightly brush over bread slices using Pastry Brush. Bake 15 to 20 minutes or until edges of bread are golden brown.
Meanwhile, in Small Batter Bowl, whisk soup, milk and black pepper until smooth using Stainless Steel Whisk.
Finely chop onion using Food Chopper.
Dice ham and bell pepper using Chef’s Knife. Melt remaining butter in Stir-Fry Skillet over medium heat; add onion and bell pepper. Cook 5 minutes or until vegetables are tender; stir in ham.
Whisk eggs in Classic Batter Bowl; add to Skillet. Cook over medium-high heat, stirring occasionally with Classic Scraper, until eggs are set but still moist.
Stir in soup mixture; cook 1 minute or until hot.
Using Deluxe Cheese Grater, grate cheese. Gently stir in 3/4 cup of the cheese. Fold spinach into egg mixture, half at a time. Cook about 2 minutes, stirring gently until spinach is wilted.
Spoon egg mixture into center of Baker, mounding slightly in center. Top with remaining 1/4 cup cheese.
Serve immediately using Nylon Spoon.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Do you think Medicare for all is going to give you better care? If you need an MRI it will take you four weeks from the time the doctor orders it till you get your results? The system can only handle so many people efficiently.

American here; I was nearly killed in a multicar accident when I was 25. Guess how long I had to wait for an important surgery to repair my damaged leg?

One Year. I had to wait just over one year to get the surgery I needed, because I wanted an experienced surgeon to do it. It took one entire year to get on his surgical schedule, have my insurance agree to pay for it, etc. It was, at the time, a new corrective procedure and a lot of people wanted to have it done, but it isn’t performed that often now because it takes so much time for the patient to be rehabilitated (2+ years of physical therapy.)

So don’t tell me that there aren’t long waiting times to get treatment in the U.S. Because there definitely are.

Oh, and that doesn’t include the five months from the day I called that surgeon’s office until my first appointment with him. Or the six months of tests and x-rays/ MRIs, etc. before he agreed to perform the surgery.

When one of my doctors took an abrupt retirement and closed his practice, I had to find a replacent ASAP (along with all his other patients). Finding someone willing to see me was a nightmare (they had too many patients already or didn’t accept my insurance or whatever). It took me six months to get an initial consultation with a new doctor – time I spent with no one to prescribe the maintenance medications I took daily.

Thank God that I had/ have really, really good health insurance through my employer or I would still be in a wheelchair! But even then, dealing with the insurance was a nightmare.

But if I lived in a country with universal health care I would have been moved to the head of the line because my injuries were so bad.

So, “USA! USA!” I guess.

As China Orders Its Banks To Cancel USD Buying, Spain Makes A Dramatic Pivot To Beijing

Jesus H. Christ.

The bullshit out of Washington DC is so thick. Bessent is such a tool.

China has now cut off supplies to America of minerals critical to defense and clean technology. What will America do about this?

What will America do about this?

Americans will talk about how they will start mining their own minerals or get the from somewhere else. They will say this as if they live in a Command and Conquer economy where if they press a button pay some money it will appear. This ignores the fact that it requires massive investment, time, skills to build such an industry.

Think about this. This is a 155mm artillery shell.

It’s comparatively simple. The US talked big about increasing production of 155mm shells. Guess what it didn’t happen! You see capitalism or the system pretending to be capitalism in the USA means that all factories run at maximum capacity at all times. It’s not just a case of running more shifts, if you were not running at 100% capacity then you’re not leveraging your Return on capital employed (RoCE).

Lets think of something even simpler!

You can make 1000 of those in an hour. Demand is 1200. To increase production by +200, you need more staff (not that difficult to train) and also need more grills. So you can just buy some more grills right? No, why not because in capitalism ALL industries run at 100% meaning the grill suppliers won’t be able to provide something immediately and they’ll have to wait.

So? Trump won’t be in power by 2030 and massive mega investment is needed, are you going to risk that?

On top of this China might decide to bankrupt you like the US and Europe bankrupts farmers. Huh?

Simpsons. Lisa and a partner spend millions on making an alternative Doll. Lisa Lionheart. Malibu Stacy simply decide to release a new doll with a new hat.

So China watches you build your new plant and machinery to mine rare earths. Oh hey here we’ll sell them for a low price again! Those US miners go bust and once that happens prices get jacked up again?

Evil? This is exactly what US food aid did. Cheap US grain bankrupted African farmers. Once they were no longer self sufficient? Prices were jacked up. Once African farmers started growing their own? The US grain prices were dropped to bankrupt those farmers.

What’s the most dangerous situation you’ve witnessed at work, and how was it handled?

So many I can’t count but 2 that come to mind in our factory.

The first; I walked up on an employee and saw that he was wearing cotton gloves while running a 40″, 5 hp standing disc sander.
The danger is that if the cloth gove touches the disc you hand will be gone in a millisecond!
You can only wear smooth leather gloves running that machine as those will not snag on the abrasive disc.
This despite our giving them demonstrations of what happens if a cloth glove touches the disc.

#2 Is somewhat similar.
I caught an employee running a lathe wearing loose fitting jacket that wasn’t even zipped up.
If that jacket caught on the spinning part in the lathe it will eat you in a heartbeat and spit out nothing but bits and pieces and there is no way you could hit the E-brake pedal before you were consumed by the machine.

We were once admonished by an inspection for our machine shop not being wheelchair and disabled friendly and not having a proper disabled bathroom in the machine shop area.
Sorry but there is no place for wheelchairs or disabled persons in a working machine shop.
That’s not prejudice, that’s common sense!
When bad things happen in machine shops they happen fast and machines don’t care what they cut or who is in the way.

~Other Worlds~

Submitted into Contest #283 in response to: Write a story that ends with a huge twist.… view prompt

Jim Parker

~ Other Worlds ~

Wisty removed her prosthetic hand and placed it on the seat. She had it on for the last two days and it was wearing on her. Then turned to Shewuma and asked, “So. Chieftess?”

Wu hopped up next to her and sat cross-legged. “My father was chief, and my twin brother and I were his only children. But we had the sacred lineage and were turned. We both had to give it up.”

“Do you regret it?”

Wisty sat up straight. “No. I can’t regret doing what I was born to do.”

“Bingo,” Shewuma responded.

“How did you meet Jimmy and Debbie?”

Luce parked the bus in Corrine’s driveway right behind David E. and Wolf in the dodge. She pulled the lever to open the side doors just as David E. walked up accompanied by Wolf.

“Wolf!” hollered Wu.

He stuck his head in. “Yes, Chieftess.”

“Yes, Chieftess.”

When she reached him, he said, “It’s Dermott.”

Wu cut him off. “Where?”

“The loft.” In a blur she was gone.

David E. and Wisty came up and asked Daniel what was wrong. They turned and hurried to the house. “It’s Dermott. We found him. He’s bad. It’s like he’s sick and he’s unconscious.”

Wisty broke into a trot. “Let’s hurry!” David E. brought up the rear, limping as fast as his cane would take him.

Wisty entered the loft and saw Dermott on the loveseat in a fetal position. He was pale, shaking, and unconscious. Shewuma hovered over him, checking his temperature and trying to bring him around.

Corrine stood by, hands clasped and lips moving. Wisty realized she was praying. She asked Corrine, “What happened?”

Shewuma said, “911 can’t help him.”

“Yes,” Wisty agreed. “I don’t think it’s physical either.”

Corrine choked up and lost her train of thought. Daniel put his arm around her and continued, “The dogs all started barking so I went outside and saw you guys driving up.”

Wu checked Dermott’s pulse. “How long ago did this happen?”

“About a half hour ago. Maybe more,” said Daniel.

“Psychic attack?” asked Corrine.

Wu set her jaw. Her mind was racing as she explained. “Someone is trying to kill his soul.”

“Kill his soul,” Corrine softly repeated to herself.

Shewuma ran to the railing. “LUCE!”

Luce stepped out of the kitchen. “I’m here, Chieftess.”

“I need the Eagle. Now! Stay with Corrine and help her with this boy.”

“Yes, Chieftess,” and she ran to the back door.

“No. What does it look like?”

Corrine shook out the cobwebs and steeled herself. “What? Anything.”

Shewuma wrapped her arms around herself, let out a deep breath, and said, “Don’t let him die.” Then she collapsed to the floor on her knees.

“I am Nuuakhwahu.”

With a wink and a hint of a smile, the Eagle said to her, “You’re going to love this, Chieftess. A little something I picked up in Tibet.” He began to grow. Ten times, a hundred times bigger.

Together they screamed the Hopi War Cry and met the horde.

Our life is spent, our time has come.

Back to the place that we are from.

I call upon the Powers That Be.

This is my will So mote it be!

She plunged the knife into her chest.

Wisty opened her eyes, grateful to be alive. “Wu?” She tried to get up and Wu had to keep her from falling over.

“What about Dermott?”

Wisty patted her chest. “I have him here.”

Wu pulled her in for a hug. “You did it.”

Holding onto Wu’s neck she said, “We did it, Shewuma. You two saved our lives. Thank you.”

Corrine lay back on the floor and smiled. She was pooped.

Luce leaned over Dermott, cocking her head. He was saying something to her. “Chieftess!” Luce called out in alarm.

His voice was raspy and faint. “Jimmy and Debbie. They’re going to die. It’s a trap.”

President Donald Trump believes Apple can make its signature iPhone in the U.S. to avoid new tariffs. Apple also committed $500B of investments in the US. Do you believe Apple can move iPhone assembly and the entire supply chain back home?

Nobody believes it

Including Trump!!

This is just spiel to fool the 70–80 Million MAGA crowd that good days are here and prevent them from turning on him when prices rise to the skies

In reality Trump will have to eat some of his tariffs and he will do it over time by declaring “Wins” in the coming days

For instance he may have a meeting with Cook and claim “Cook agreed to invest $ 300 Billion in USA and relocate all his businesses to US by 2030 so for the next 3 years, I will grant him an exemption on the Iphones”

He may actually demand an open bribe from Cook

The US is crumbling very fast and it’s resembling more of India as the days go by

Political favors sold for cash, Open Bribery and Corruption, One man running the show like a Dictator and the rest of the country , impotent to stop him

If Putin or Xi did 10% of what Trump is doing, they would have definitely been ousted from power long ago

So right now Trump is decimating the world

China has something to gain as every day the US is weaker and weaker without a shot being fired by China

Star Trek – Stuck on Earth

Don’t Chinese people get tired of writing all their characters in kanji?

Personally, I think it’s exhausting.

When I was a child, I occasionally saw Japanese in China.

Me: Dad, Chinese is too much work. Japanese is better, it’s simple and easy to write! Dad: Wow! Chinese is beautiful. Let’s write beautiful Chinese.

Ever since I was a child, my parents have always taught and brainwashed me into thinking that I must write beautiful Chinese.

Mother: A man who can’t write beautiful Chinese isn’t a man!

Father: During summer vacation, let’s practice three pages of kanji every day.

When I became a junior high school student, I had to write an essay as part of the Japanese language test. Usually, I had to write more than 800 kanji characters. After the test, my hands would hurt.

The composition is like this↓ (Source:

)

However, traditional characters are more complicated than simplified characters, so I think people who use traditional characters will be more tired. When I see traditional characters, I want to see garbled characters.

For example, the traditional and simplified characters for “melancholy turtle” are as follows:

Traditional Chinese ⇒ Melancholic Turtle

Simplified Chinese ⇒ Melancholic Turtle

If the “gloomy turtles” appear in groups,

Traditional Chinese —– (I’m sure it will be tiring)

Melancholy Crow, Melancholy Crow, Melancholy Crow, Melancholy Crow

Simplified Chinese —– (I think it’s pretty tiring)

The next door is the next door.

Katakana——- (What’s this!? Easy)

UtopiaUtopiaUtopiaUtopiaUtopiaUtopia

When I was a child, the characters I wanted to write the most were katakana-like characters. However, people today don’t write by hand as much, and instead use computers or smartphones to type, so I think the difference in fatigue disappears. For example, if you just type “yydwg” using the pinyin input method, you can quickly write the Chinese characters for “忧郁的乌龟”.

Shorpy

SHORPY 1954 Ford Dearborn Assembly Plant.preview

SHORPY New Orleans Jackson Square.preview

SHORPY 1959 Ford Country Squire pushbutton camper.preview

As an officer, have you ever gotten a sixth sense that something isn’t right?

Not me, my brother – when he was around 10 years in the police force. He came home one night after work trembling and wanting to say a prayer of thanks.

One night he was the lone police officer sent to watch over an isolated small town. He was called to a report of someone doing graffiti on shop signage. When he arrived the small town was quiet with no one around. While walking the street he felt something urge him to turn around, he briefly glanced back – nothing. A few seconds later, the same feeling – he looked over his shoulder. Still nothing. The third time he said “I called have sworn it was a real voice”. He spun around just as a man was taking an overhead swing at him with an axe. He said it was as if his hand was guided within a split second to pull his baton, raising it over his head and deflecting the axe to one side. He grabbed the assailant and cuffed him. A prayer of thanks was given by everyone in our household that night.

He retired from the police last month at the good age of 63 having served as a police officer since 21 years old.

UPDATE – Unappreciated Adult Son Saves Nieces Life, Teaches Lowlife Parents & Sister To NEVER…

INVASION

Submitted into Contest #283 in response to: Write a story that ends with a huge twist.… view prompt

Charles Corkery

“July 2nd 2011. Almost twelve and a half years ago. Jeez! You’re right. How did you do that? Wait, if I check the actual time that you became my partner…”

“Paul, a child of four years could work out how long we’ve been together. Why are you making such a fuss about it?”

Replacing the file, Paul turned back to his partner.

“I didn’t know. I mean I knew it was about ten, twelve years but you…you’re always so frigging precise. It’s uncanny”.

“Horses for courses, my friend. How come you don’t like candy, anyhow?”

Paul resumed his seat and stared briefly at his screen, quickly becoming restless and bored.

“My parents didn’t allow it when I was younger and, as I grew older and saw the damage that sugar did to teeth, I just decided it wasn’t for me”.

“Man, I’d go crazy in this place if I didn’t have something to brighten up my shift”.

Grabbing a handful of chocolate treats, Paul leaned back in his ergonomic chair, staring idly at the ceiling, popping candy.

“Val, do you ever get bored with this job?”

“Sure. And, every time it happens, I think of the money we get paid, partner”.

“And your eyes never leave your screen, amigo. I don’t know how you do it. No wonder you need those tinted glasses of yours”.

Suddenly, Val leaned urgently forward, his eyes having discerned something on his monitor.

“One o’ clock, Paul. Check it out”.

“Just another boring meteorite. Iron-nickel. I can tell by the regmaglypts, the irregular shaped pits. No problem, unfortunately. That’s the way the cookie crumbles”.

“Another cold, miserable morning. I can’t remember the last time we had a white Christmas”.

Immediately, Val shot back.

“December 25th, 2002. 1.3 inches fell in Wilmington”.

Paul looked askance at his work partner.

“Do you make this shit up? How could you remember that?”

Saying nothing, Val simply shrugged, pulling up his collar against the chilly wind.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, you numbers freak”.

“Yes. Just two days ’til Santa comes”.

“Hey, Val, we need to organise a night out or something. Your wife and mine. Maybe in the New Year. What d’you say?”

“Yeah, definitely, we need to do that”.

As Paul climbed into his brand new Tesla, he, somehow, knew it would never happen. They had been talking about it… for twelve years, five months, two weeks and three days.

Alone again, the two settled in front of their screens.

“Val, d’you think this could be for real? D’you think…?”

‘Paul, I don’t believe we should take any notice of mere conjecture but, given the vicinity and its closeness to our own area of observation, I do think that we need to be extra vigilant”.

“Hey, don’t worry, pal. My eyes are never leaving my screen”.

“Holy Mother of God. Val, you see that? That’s a frigging mother ship!”

“It’s been…interesting, Paul. I’m sorry it has to end this way but, hey, that’s the way the cookie crumbles, right? Happy Christmas!”

TARIFF WARS: China Responds to Trump’s Tantrum with 125% Measures

Has President Trump been successful in containing China and addressing trade issues? Is there a “honeymoon” period for him in this regard?

President Trump has not addressed any trade issues.

He has been reckless, spraying tariff bullets everywhere. In the case of China, he uses the bazooka.

Just to show his power. Instead he shows ignorance. His officials easily coned him that his reciprocal tariffs are derived from sophisticated calculations. He lost international stature and credibility.

Countries are confused. The American public as well. Maybe he himself is confused, hence the stops/goes, and pauses.

China refuses to let him run amok at its expense. It too has the bazooka, and it shot back. No trade issues to settle. This is China’s stance. If you want to trade with us, we are fine, we will trade with you. If you don’t want to trade with us, we are also fine. You ban us your high end chips, we ban you our rare earths minerals. An arm for an arm. China is prepared to decouple with the US.

It has already figure out the consequences. Exports to the US is worth 2.4% of GDP. On the decouple scenario, it may shed its growth by 1.5% points. Easily bearable, less than what it sacrificed when it self-triggered the real estate financial crisis. If necessary, it has plenty of fiscal and monetary space to cover the fall-out. No internal price pressures without imports from the US. It has alternative sources for the agriculture and energy goods. No technology supply pressures. It has overcome US sanctions and is self-reliant.

The US side may be less sanguine. Internal price pressures and shortages of goods may be mild for now, mitigated by the advanced orders to beat the tariffs. But they will start to bite going forward. The ban on rare earths has caused supply problems for the defence contractors, and the major tech companies, such as, Broadcom, Qualcomm, TSMC, Samsung, and Western Digital.

It is the financial markets that are worrying. The Dow, S&P 500, and Nasdaq crashed over 10%. Treasury Bond market is volatile, the 10-year benchmark jumped from below 4% in early April to 4.4% in the current. It had gone past 4.5%. The currency is under pressure, the dollar index fell from over 110 in early January to just over 100 in the current.

This is serious. US is a financialized economy. Values and valuations are determined by the financial markets. The turmoil could cause grave economic distresses, especially as there are worries about recession on top of the stubborn inflation, and the threat of stagflation.

The two countries are now in a full-blown trade war. Trump started it with a bang. No honeymoon period for him or anyone else. There will be no winner. China is calculative, and is is better prepared. Trump is reckless and full of hubris. US is unprepared.

What Is WRONG With This New Generation!?

What did you learn after traveling abroad that you would never have known if you had stayed in Indonesia?

There are no usable toilets inside the White House USA

Taking a photo inside the White House (Personal Documentation)

I received an invitation from the United States government to visit the White House while I was an exchange student there.

The invitation I received was official, because it was given by the American government. For US residents, to get an invitation, they must ask for a recommendation from their respective State Senate. But for non-US residents, I don’t know how they can get the invitation.

Northeast Gate White House. Source: Personal Documentation

Five layers of security must be passed to enter the White House. Once inside, there are several rooms that can be visited, which contain various collections belonging to American presidents from generation to generation. The largest collection that I saw belonged to Barack Obama, George W. Bush, John F. Kennedy, and Abraham Lincoln.

The rooms in the White House have different nuances. Like in the Red Room, all the walls, carpets, curtains, and lighting are red. So are the Blue Room and Green Room, which are blue and green.

Map of rooms in the White House. Source:

Historical Tour of the White House

This is historical material, “frozen in time.” The web site is no longer updated and links to external web sites and some internal pages will not work. Tours Presidents & First Ladies White House Events & Traditions Resources Military

https://georgewbush-whitehouse.archives.gov/history/whtour/

Green Room White House. Source: Personal Documentation.

Blue Room White House. Source: Personal Documentation.

Red Room White House. Source: Personal Documentation

Not all rooms in the White House can be entered. Like the Library, there are barriers that limit the movement of visitors, so that they can only see from the outside. Likewise with the objects there, everything is far from reach, so it is difficult (and indeed not allowed) for visitors to hold.

Library White House. Source: Personal Documentation

Another interesting fact is, inside the White House there are no toilets that visitors can use. Yes, since outside it has been warned by the officers, even explained in the invitation email. So if you want to relieve yourself, you have to leave the White House, and you can’t go back in because the invitation can only be used once.

2. Emergency 911 in the USA really works fast and responsively.

Emergency room of a hospital in Sycamore, Illinois, USA. (Personal Documentation)

I was an exchange student at Northern Illinois University, located in DeKalb, Illinois. One midnight, I was walking to my dorm after a night of studying in the campus library. The temperature was zero degrees Celsius, and the wind was blowing very hard.

After arriving at the dorm and entering my room, I went straight to sleep. Two hours into my sleep, I woke up because of a stomachache. At first it was just a normal ache, but then my stomach felt like it was spinning and I winced while holding my stomach.

My roommate asked about my situation, and asked for help from my friends from the next room. When my friends arrived, they tried to contact the dorm head and the person in charge of my exchange program. But because it was already 2 am, no one responded.

Finally my friend called 911, and asked for medical help for my condition. I thought help would come about 20-30 minutes after the call, but two police officers came to my room three minutes later. Yes, that fast!

Two policewomen came to ask about my condition, asked for my passport and campus ID, and immediately helped me down. On the ground floor, there were also two medical personnel with an ambulance, and a firefighter with his car to deal with emergencies. I was really stunned in the midst of my illness, they came three minutes after the call with a complete formation like this!

After I got into the ambulance, the police and firefighters left the campus, and I was taken to the nearest hospital on the border with Sycamore City, a 20-minute drive away. When I arrived at the hospital, there were already 2 doctors waiting who immediately provided responsive treatment for me. I was then transferred to several rooms, to check the condition of my stomach.

The final result of my emergency examination that night was stomach cramps due to the cold weather (and also a cold, hehe). After a few hours of rest, I was finally allowed to go home that night. And what made me laugh out loud was, around 4 am, I farted quite a lot, and my stomach immediately felt better. HAHAHA. The only medicine for this is supposed to be warm tea and Tolak Angin in Indonesia!

Everything was done very quickly and precisely. And what really amazed me was, everything was well organized and coordinated. All state officials worked together to give their best. If I, a newcomer, was treated very well, of course the locals would also get the same treatment or even better.

Anyway, after I got out of the hospital, I looked at the total emergency bill and if converted to Rupiah it was around 22 million. Luckily everything was covered by insurance, and I could return to campus in peace without having to think about such a large cost just for a cold.

3. Meet the Former Vice President of Uganda

Speciosa Wandira-Kazibwe with Rezki Achyana (Personal Documentation)

It was an honor for me to get to know Uganda’s first female Vice President, Speciosa Wandira-Kazibwe, closely and share stories. I met her in South Africa, when we both represented the Asia-Africa Forum 2018. She is a very humble person, and loves to share. We even had coffee together after the conference and shared stories. She told me a lot about her 10-year experience leading Uganda, empowering women in Uganda as the first president of the African Women’s Committee for Peace and Development of the African Union, and her story of becoming the UN Special Envoy for handling HIV/AIDS in the African continent.

I don’t think I need to share many stories about him, because you can google information about him directly on the internet. There are so many!

But the most important thing is, I am quite confident that African countries will improve a lot because at the 2018 Asia-Africa Forum I met many extraordinary African leaders like Mrs. Kazibwe.

Oh yes, I have a bonus photo with the former President of Mozambique, Joaquim Chissano. I was not that close to him during the conference, but from his background and his role in the political world of Mozambique and the African Union, I am increasingly convinced that Africa will soon show its teeth.

“Trump Plays The Media Like A Fiddle” – Col. Douglas Macgregor

How awful was Steve Jobs as a person?

A friend of mine told a story about how, 25-some years ago, when she was working tech sales with an Apple division, she was at a conference that Steve Jobs also attended. At the end of the day, everyone was going to a restaurant for dinner, and through a snafu she found herself left with Jobs and two other people, whose ride had left them behind.

None of them had a car, so she offered to drive. Problem was, she and her husband were fresh out of school, her husband had started law school and money was tight — she was driving her husband’s old beater car that day. The front passenger seat was a little wonky, in that it tended not to lock in place, and the seat would occasionally slide forward and backwards of its own accord. Of course, that’s where Jobs was sitting. 🙂 It was dark and rainy, she didn’t know the roads that well, and they came up to a toll booth. She didn’t have the exact change, so everyone in the car was scrambling to find the change to get through the toll gate. The defroster didn’t work too well, either, especially with a full car, and Jobs would obligingly wipe the windshield occasionally. They arrived safely, and she figured she had a funny cocktail party story for the rest of her life.

A couple of weeks later, she noticed an extra $300 in her paycheck. She went to her boss and said, “Hey, what happened? Did I get a raise?” He didn’t know, either, but he checked with payroll. He came back with a funny look on his face and told her “Steve said it’s to cover a payment for a new car.” “Steve who?” “Uhh . . . Jobs?”

Brilliant people are frequently difficult — the thing that makes them brilliant also makes them a little too different, sometimes, for social conventions.

I live in the U.S. and always hear about how affordable or free health insurance is in other countries, but I also hear how it is next to impossible to get treatments and appointments. How truthful is this in your country?

I slipped with a kitchen knife and left a superficial mark on my thumb.

It bled a little, and the knife had been used on raw meat, so I applied ethanol and a bandage. A few days later, I noticed a fair amount of redness around the wound.

I went to the doctor’s office about ten minutes away from my house. They told me the next appointment was in six hours, so I booked it, and went home to play Fallout 4.

Six hours later, I saw the doctor. Telling the story took about a minute, and inspecting the wound took another, and he was satisfied at that point that I should take some standard antibiotics, just in case it was, as I suspected, infected.

He wrote out the prescription, asked me if I had any other concerns, and I told him I did not.

With five minutes left in our ten minute appointment, and with little else to do, he figured he may as well take my blood pressure and heart rate. I agreed, and was told everything was good.

I left with the prescription, popped to the pharmacy next door, got my prescription, and that was the end of it.

I didn’t pay a single penny.

The average person, i.e. those that actually paid for this appointment, spend about £600–700 annually in taxes for this service, which covers everything from minor cuts to cancer treatment, and covers everyone from babies to old people.

Nobody is ever bankrupted by this system, nobody is ever left without treatment by this system, nobody is abandoned by this system.

Cherry Cheese Coffee Cake

Ingredients

Cake and Filling

2 (8 ounce) packages refrigerated crescent rolls
8 ounces cream cheese
1/4 cup powdered sugar
1 egg
1/2 teaspoon vanilla or almond extract
1 (21 ounce) can cherry pie filling

Glaze

1/2 cup powdered sugar
2-3 teaspoons milk

Instructions

Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
Unroll crescent dough and arrange 12 of the triangles in a circle with wide ends toward the outside edge of the Large Round Stone – the points will not meet in the center. Lightly flour and roll out the seams making a 14 inch circle with a 3 inch hole in the center.
Combine the cream cheese, powdered sugar, egg and vanilla and spread over dough. Top with pie filling.
Cut each of the 4 remaining triangles into thirds (starting at the wide end opposite the point and cutting lengthwise to the point). Arrange over filling evenly in spoke-like pattern. Press ends to seal at center and outer edges.
Bake for 25 to 30 minutes or until golden brown.
Cool slightly.
Mix powdered sugar and milk until glaze consistency and drizzle over coffee cake.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

What is one thing you caught your parents doing that you wish you had never seen?

When Your Mama and Daddy Say “No” — Do It Anyway!

Wanna get Mama a ring? Daddy a brand-new Skil saw? DO IT!
Even if they say, “We don’t need anything.”
“We don’t want anything…”

Now, my Daddy’s long gone — Agent Orange got him. Retired at 55, and passed a few years later.
So now it’s just Mom… well, Mom and my little sister and me. And we deal with her the best we can. 😂

ME: “Mom? What do you want for your birthday?”
MOM: “Nothing! I don’t need anything! I’ve got everything!”

Her Birthday:
We got her puzzles. Word search books. A food basket. More chocolate (like she’s ever in danger of running out). And another grabby thingie with a flashlight. She loved it so much, she had me buy her another. She’s got three now.

Christmas:
More puzzles. More word search books. A snack basket. A food basket. “Warmy-Warmies” for the cold — blankets, PJs, cozy stuff. And yep… more chocolate.
Since I’m the only one that bakes, I brought homemade holiday cookies and “Chocolate Overload Brownies” so ooey-gooey the fudge literally goes every which way but… 🤤

Just Because:
We’ve gotten her all her favorites — cake, apple fritters, and I bring over hot, fresh cooking.
My little sister and her hubby #2 takes her out to eat.
Oh — and did I mention? She’s well over 90 now.

This Year – Easter:
MOM: “I don’t want anything. Don’t need an Easter dinner.”
ME: LOL okay, sure Mom.
I’m making her favorite: smoked turkey with all the fixings.
And a “ShishkaBoom” basket of Easter chocolates and cookies, labeled:
“To: [Her Name] — I couldn’t find your house! Love, the Easter Bunny.” 🐰
(Sissy’s still undecided, but she’s always slow – she’ll find something.)

Will Trump Deliver Peace? – Jeffrey Sachs, Alexander Mercouris & Glenn Diesen

Nymphomaniac in the mental hospital

My first wife was mentally ill. Her entire family was.

It hit her really strongly around when she turned 28 years old.

And from that moment on, it was Hell.

One mental hospital after another. Threats of suicide, as well as actual attempts. Circular thinking revolving around imaginary events, false memories, and horrible imaginations.

Anyways, this particular story takes place in a mental hospital in Massachusetts. It was in North Attoboro (as I recall).

I would visit her daily. She was an in-patient.

Yup. What you would expect on the stereotypes about mental hospitals.

And my wife… well, she freely roamed with the other crazies there.

Many ill people. Many fighting their very own demons.

And you know, today I want to chat about one of them.

One was a nymphomaniac.

…

She really was. He had an extreme case of nymphomania. Oh, for certain, no one told me her diagnosis. But it was pretty obvious.

Gosh.

I was blatantly obvious.

She constantly came on to everyone. Not “come on to” in the usual sense. No.

She would prey on you and attack you.

And, you know, she tried to assault me sexually multiple times.

She was a tall chick. Blonde hair. Pale. In her 20’s.

Thin. Stick-like. Twiggy.

Not my type.

As I tend to like women shorter than myself and softer, rounder… more feminine. Even chunky. Weight isn’t a turn off for me. As long as the girl isn’t obese, it’s all good.

Anyways…

She would see me.

Like in those zombie movies, where a zombie notices the hero, and then drops everything and breaks out in a sprint towards the camera.

And she would take off all her clothes.

She was good at it. All off in three seconds.

And then this fully and completely nude chick would lunge at me and hold me squirming all over me. Humping me in wild thrusts over my groin, on my thighs, and her hands pulls out my tucked shirt and undoing my belt buckle.

Hey, guys, I do like sex.

But this was really extreme.

And no. It did not turn me on at all.

Truthfully. It scared the living shit out of me.

Christ. A chick like that would be humping everything within reach. From waste baskets to fire hydrants. She was seriously ill.

It was like she was in perpetual “heat”; in a frenzy of lust. And she couldn’t control herself. Goosebumps all over her arms. You see, it wasn’t a fake pretend lust to freak people out. No. She was seriously ill.

You can tell.

She was another person. Pupils dilated. Arms full of goosebumps. her heart beating, pulse pumping. Body trembling. Mouth open and making these internal guttural groans.

Obviously something was seriously off with her.

Oh, sure, you all laugh about this. Your fantasies get all excited on this notion. But reality is never the same as fantasy.

I feel for her.

Always unsatisfied, never to have a relationship with anyone, for what boyfriend would be comfortable leaving her alone?

Now, my wife who was in the hospital knew about this situation. And she calmly would peacefully pry her off me and call the orderlies. And it happened more than three times. She was relentless.

I guess that I must have been her “type”.

Though I suppose that a door knob, faucet or bar of soap would be her type. Sheech!

That is my story for today.

Let’s move on…

Why is China not supporting its ally Russia militarily?

Because China’s main focus is on the US, which has declared China its strategic adversary No.1.

In order to wrestle with the US, China needs to unite everyone it can.

Russia is already very friendly to China, and by the war in Ukraine is forced to move even closer to China. The potential for more China-Russian relationship growth is limited.

However, if China publicly supports Russia, it would wreck havoc on China’s relationship with Europe. China stands to lose a lot from such maneuver.

There’s also the secondary issue of international law and order. Ukraine is a sovereign nation, if China supports Russian invasion of Ukraine under the excuse of helping defend the Ukrainian rebels (Russian speakers in Eastern Ukraine), then it opens the exact same reasoning for US invasion of China over Taiwan to help the Chinese rebels (Taiwanese).

China weighed the pros and cons, and chose its current position.

Now this is just for the war in Ukraine. If Russia were to be defeated and even invaded by NATO, China would help Russia with everything it got, because China doesn’t want to share a 4000 kilometers land border with NATO.

Bacon Mushroom Quiche

Yield: 6 servings

Ingredients

1 (9-inch) pie crust
1/2 pound (approximately 8 slices) bacon
1/2 cup chopped green onions
1 (8 ounce) package sliced mushrooms
2 cups (approximately 2 medium) sliced zucchini
2 pressed garlic cloves
1 cup (4 ounces) shredded Cheddar cheese
3 large eggs
1 cup milk
1 teaspoon parsley
1/4 teaspoon each salt and ground black pepper
1/8 teaspoon nutmeg

Instructions

Heat oven to 375 degrees F.
Place pie crust in 9 inch Pie Plate according to package directions; set aside.
Cook bacon over medium heat in Generation II Skillet. Remove bacon; drain and crumble.
Reserve 1 tablespoon of bacon drippings and sauté onions, mushrooms, zucchini, and garlic until tender.
Add bacon to vegetables and combine.
Spread vegetable mixture over bottom of pie crust. Sprinkle cheese over vegetable mixture.
Whisk eggs, milk, and seasonings together in Batter Bowl.
Pour egg mixture over cheese.
Bake for 35 to 40 minutes.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

NOW Neocons Are READY: Make Taiwan The Ukraine Of Asia | Jeffrey Sachs & Joanna Lei

Ivan Off

Submitted into Contest #282 in response to: Write a story that begins with an apology.… view prompt

Dan Morris

‘. . . Sorry, Randy . . . I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.’

Thus began his Uncle’s Donny’s letter. The letter he had found slipped mysteriously under the door of the 3rd floor apartment he currently shared with his girlfriend. The lettering was very flowery and ornate, and done by hand and in cursive with what looked like some sort of ink dipped pen. It had come in a brittle envelope that had seen better days.

Bizarre for sure, thought Randy Phillipson, age 32, as he started scanning through the letter. Like something out of a freakin’ movie.

It read . . .

‘Randy, I know the past year has been challenging for you. Especially since your parents had just died and you had to spend three weeks at that homeless shelter last November . . . You called, but I didn’t help you. I’m sorry, but it wasn’t because I was cash poor, it was because I was a different person then. I want to make it up to you. In a moment, I want you to check outside. You should be pleasantly surprised.’

Yours,

Donald J Phillipson III

The box was the size of a damn refrigerator. And there was just an excessive amount of those ridiculous, little, white, fluffy packing peanuts in there is well; as he soon found out after he stabbed the stubborn cardboard box open with the dull boxcutter that happened to be handy.

The peanuts had gotten everywhere immediately, and Tim had to stop his new girlfriend’s little long-legged chihuahua puppy from eating the delicious, crunchy, and yet highly toxic marshmallows like they were candy.

After relocating Optimus Prime to the bathroom and closing the door, Randy returned to the massive box. It looks like it could hold several bodies in this thing! Thought Randy bitterly as he returned to stab the packaging.

He wondered just how in the hell the delivery man had gotten the damned thing up that grueling three flights of stairs with a box that big.

But, even though there was no one there a few minutes ago, there was a little clipboard lying on the ground with a grueling, eye-squinting contract to sign with a nifty silver pen, (the old-fashioned type with the arrowhead tip), attached to it with a chain. And the box.

And the box was heavy! Randy wasn’t sure how to move it at first, but he finally saw that the intrepid package delivery man had left him use of a shiny, steel-looking hand truck, still in place underneath it on the other side.

He shuffled the box inside quickly with the surprisingly squeaky hand truck, before the nosy Mrs. Peterson next door got whiff of her neighbor receiving a giant mysterious package. But, then, he had to open it. He supposed he could just wait until his girlfriend got home from work, (this was her apartment), But, the giant refrigerator-sized cardboard monstrosity was clearly intended to be delivered to him. It said so, right on the box, and on the weird form he was supposed to sign it said his name a few times. He scanned it only briefly, but he was sure that his name was the only one that was mentioned in it, and not his girlfriend’s.

Tearing away the last of the murky cellophane, Randy found himself with before a tall, mannequin-looking thing. It looked like a human, but without the reproductive parts where they should be. And the joints were obviously separated by a gap of maybe less than a centimeter, so it appeared that it had the ability to move its limbs, much like a child’s doll. And its face was so peculiar . . . It looked much like one of his action hero figures that he owned in jawline cut and appearance.

Neat.

“Is there an ‘On’ button on this thing?” wondered Randy aloud, looking around it on a goose neck for some kind of switch.

“Oh, it’s holding something.”

Randy pulled the envelope from the ‘dummy’s’ hand, also addressed to him, and read it aloud to himself. It was more of that flowery handwriting, this time even more compressed.

“Dear Randy, my favorite Nephew. This is your Uncle Donny again. If you have not guessed by now, I am writing to you from the grave. I know you must be quite startled, but I assure you everything is going quite as planned. Last March I received dire news. I found out I was going to pass away from terminal prostate cancer in the next few months, and that it will be an incredibly painful death. As I am writing this to you, I can tell you that, quite honestly, I believe they may be right. I do not urinate well any more. At all. And its always painful . . .

But, I digress. As you know, I love gadgets and robots and things. I have recently come into some considerable wealth. This has allowed me to always obtain the newest products way before they hit the market.

Before you is the TX-301 model ‘Mechanical House Maintainer.’ Or MHM, for short. It is, basically, a butler that will clean your house. Or entertain you, if you let it. To turn it on, just say its name, followed by the word ‘ON’. To turn it off, just say its name, and ‘OFF’.

Yours truly,

Uncle Donny

‘P. S. – Whatever you do, don’t tell the but—’

Oddly enough, the rest was blurred out by a water smudge. Or something. What the hell wasn’t he supposed to tell it?

There was nothing on the back. Randy let the letter fall to the ground and put his hand to his chin in quiet consternation. He realized Optimus had stopped whining.

“Great, it probably pissed or shit on the floor in there. Again.”

He was more concerned about the problem of turning this thing on. Actually, at the moment, he was wondering if it was even wise for him to turn it on . . . he had read a few sci-fi horror comics that had started out just like this.

But, the face of this weird robot butler thing his Uncle had given him was very familiar . . .

“No way.”

That odd grizzled jawline . . . His Uncle’s favorite video game?

“Is your name Ivan? As in ‘Krazy Ivan’? From my Uncle’s weird old Playstation 2 game?”

It was now or never.

“Ivan On.”

The effect was almost immediate. The eyes started glowing an almost blinding bright green for a moment, then, as the glow receded, it left behind the look of something alive. Or at least, intelligent and conscious.

Its head moved from left to right, and its eyes began to move as it seemed to scan the room, but with a creepy robotic lurch that made it seem to randomly jerk.

Finally, its head stopped in line with Randy, and its eyes stared at him directly.

It spoke. With a voice of gravel.

“Greetings. You must be my new master. I have already downloaded your voice profile to my data logs. I am now registered to you.”

“Huh?” wondered Randy aloud.

The robot said nothing.

“What do you do?”

The grizzled face of Ivan replied, in a perfectly unnatural robot voice, “I am yours to command. I will obey any order that you give me. Or rather, I will attempt to. My data slot is still learning, and processing new information.”

“Oh. Uh . . .” said Randy, “You could clean my house! You’re a butler, right? You clean things? And bring me drinks and food and stuff?”

“Affirmative.”

“Cool. Can you drive a car?”

“I am designated as an ‘MHM’. If driving falls within the parameters of household duty, then I will attempt to learn this ability as soon as possible.”

“Oh, right. You’re kind of dumb now, huh? I gotta teach you things? Like a Tomagachi pet?”

“I do not understand ‘TOMAGACHI PET’ word usage.”

“It’s like a little digital pet you keep on like a tiny robot game thingy that you can keep in your pocket. You have to train it, and feed it. Stuff like that. If you don’t, it dies. But, it’s okay, it’s just a game.”

Ivan stared blankly. Randy could almost hear the robot’s brain clicking away as it processed that information.

“Master, would you permit me a question? I may ask a lot of these, as it is one way my processor can learn.”

“Shoot.”

Blank stare.

“Oh, I mean, ‘sure’. Ask away.”

“You just said you owned a robot that ‘ D I E S ‘, if you don’t interact in certain ways with it. This word is not in my data logs. What is ‘dies?’

Randy shook his head in disbelief. “Wow. It’s like I am talking to a child.”

Blank stare.

“When something ‘dies’ or is ‘dead’, it means their life functions cease. Oh, wait, no. That’s the medical meaning. Sorry, I’m in med school. No uh, I guess it just means that something no longer moves anymore. Its functions cease. Inoperable. It’s something that is usually irreversible.”

More of that brain clicking sound. Maybe Randy wasn’t imagining it. This time it was longer than normal.

“Master, it appears I was in a state of ‘death’, as you put it, before you have just turned me on. I was inoperable and did not function.”

Randy couldn’t stop from laughing. “Ha ha! Yeah, well I guess everyone is like that. Before they’re born, I guess everything is sort of ‘dead’. My girlfriend would love to argue that point with you, though, my friend. She is a Philosophy Major.

“Master, what does ‘born’ mean? This file is not in my datalogs.”

“Geez, whoever programmed you did an incredibly crappy job. You don’t even know all the words in the dictionary yet.”

“Master, what is meaning of ‘dictionary’?”

Sigh. “I’ll go get one for you right now.”

Randy turned to go back to the rear office nook where the couple kept such things as a dictionary. It always finds a way of coming in handy. Boring read, though, if one was to just read it straight through, as if it were a novel and not a reference book. From many steps away he saw the ridiculous amount of papers and books and junk almost spilling out of the office room.

This could be difficult.

“I don’t really remember where it is. Here, you pick up these peanuts while I’m gone, and I’ll be right back.

He heard Optimus scratch and bark as he passed the bathroom door. God, that dog is gonna freak when it sees the robot. Maybe he shouldn’t let him out yet.

Randy attacked the pile of intellectual debris with gusto, happily mumbling to himself as he did. “Geez, Uncle. You could have just got me a Roomba. I would have been perfectly happy with that. I wouldn’t have to teach the fucking Roomba basic words it doesn’t know by getting it a dictionary. Oh, my God. Here it is.”

Randy pulled out the dictionary, a small, ragged affair with watermarks. (Or were those coffee stains? Or both?) He held it in the air in victory.

“Huzzah! Okay, now to get back to my robot butler. Ha ha. He couldn’t have gotten into too much trouble, I hope . . .”

The chihuahua puppy scratched and growled, then bumped at the door as Randy passed it.

“Hold on, buddy. You are gonna hate this thing. Give me a second and I’ll put you in the big bedroom.”

He returned to find Ivan picking up the pieces of Styrofoam peanuts. He had gotten most of them too. He was pretty fast. All of the pieces were nearly in the box.

“You could have gotten a broom, you know. Oh wait . . . do you know the word ‘broom’?’

Ivan stopped and his eyes darted back and forth rapidly, and in a way no human’s eyes could ever do.

“A broom is cleaning instrument that could have helped me with this task, yet I have not the knowledge of one in the area.”

“Yeah . . . here, read this. It’ll catch you up. Or, I dunno, scan it or whatever.”

Ivan immediately dropped the tons of peanuts directly on the floor and accepted the book. The little puff balls scattered.

“Thank you. This will help immensely.”

Ivan opened the book and started eyeing the copyright page intensely.

“I am going to get you some clothes. You look like a naked Seargent doll from the G. I. Joe series. Except no one issued you clothes, I guess. Hang on.”

A few moments later and Randy was rummaging through the main bedroom’s closet.

“God, what is he? A size XXL? I don’t even think anything in here will fit . . . Oh, here we go. Well, not great, but it’ll have to do. I’ll have to get him some real butler clothes soon. Or at least a suit jacket. That would be cool.

Randy returned with Miranda’s Columb County Community College sweater, a pair of stretched out sweats, and grisly looking pink beach flip-flops that all probably would not fit very well, if at all.

Ivan had made it to the second page of the A section. Good for him. No . . . something was wrong here.

“You read almost slower than my Grandma, dude. Can’t you just scan the page and download it or something? I dunno, it just seemed like something that has a computer processor in its head would be able to do something as easy as that with no problems.”

Without looking up from the page, Ivan replied, “Negative. My CPU does not function like a normal computer does, nor do I learn in the same way another A. I. program would. My processor demands that I piece together the bits of logic I find when I am ‘reading’ something. I have to scan several lines of writing, then process it, then return to scanning, in order for me to properly internalize the data.”

“You’re gonna be standing there for three days going at that rate! Just put the clothes on.”

Ivan complied, in his jerky robot fashion way. It was quite comical, and the clothes fit badly. Optimus Prime could be heard howling away in the bathroom.

It definitely had shit in there. But . . .

“Oh my God! You look like a Florida Tourist! You just need sunglasses!” laughed Randy.

He couldn’t stop from going and grabbing his oversized beach sunglasses from right off the bedside table next to them.

Randy turned to run down the hall again, holding his sides as he did so. He was gonna take a phone video after this and put it on YouTube! He could see the tagline now . . . Terminator goes to the beach dressed like Grandma. Hahaha.

Strangely enough, however, the lights wouldn’t turn on in his room. Randy didn’t think much of it and went and grabbed the glasses off the nightstand.

He turned to see Ivan standing there in front of him, about a foot away. Staring down at him with those glowing green eyes of his . . . This didn’t feel right.

“Ivan? You scared the shit out of me, bro! Don’t do that!” said Randy, playfully punching at Ivan’s arm.

Ivan’s brain clicked and whirred.

“Master, why did you hit me?”

Randy shrugged, feeling a cold sweat break out on him. The robot butler was directly in his path. It would be strenuous to go around him. It looked like he had to talk semantics and social physical play with a robot.

His worst subjects that he took in college involved those two things.

“Just . . . uh . . . playin’ around man. You know. A joke.”

“What is the meaning of ‘joke’?”

“Ah, I dunno . . . you got me, man. Somethin’ funny? Oh, you don’t know that word either?” rambled Randy, starting desperately to figure a way out, but with nothing coming immediately to mind.

“Master, did you know that an Aardvark is a large, nocturnal, burrowing mammal, residing in central and south Africa, feeds on ants and termites and has a long, extensile tongue?”

Ivan lifted his right arm and cocked it back, not menacingly, but with a strange jerking motion that almost made Randy nauseous. Randy dropped the sunglasses and stepped back involuntarily, waiting for the strike that would certainly end his life.

Oh! Right.

“Ivan Off.”

Randy closed his eyes as he said this, still expecting the blow to come. But, he heard a metallic powering down noise and he opened his eyes to see Ivan’s head slumped forward, and his arms at his sides. This close, Randy could see there was something written in extremely small black print on Ivan’s neck. Almost like it was stamped there.

“WARNING: ONLY TEACH MHM BASIC HOUSEHOLD TASKS. TOO MUCH CONFLICTING INFORMATION WILL OVERLOAD THE PROCESSOR AND CAUSE ERRORS. THIS WILL VOID THE WARRANTY. Coppertap Ind. —-”

Below that there seemed to be even smaller writing that Randy had to squint to see.

‘Made in Mexico.’

Randy fell, or rather collapsed, sideways on the bed, and finally he could hear the sharp, piercing cries of the dog finally reaching his ears over the immediate panic.

The dark figure of Ivan stood over him like a malignant mannequin of death. Just sleeping for now. Yeah, thought Randy, I’m sending this fucker back. I don’t care that I voided the warranty.

Randy rolled on his back and stared at the ceiling, letting out a sigh of disbelief. And relief. Then he laughed. And couldn’t stop laughing for several minutes.

“Geez, Uncle. You could have just got me a fucking Roomba.”

I was telling my bestie how i regret marrying my husband but had no idea he was listening and then

https://youtu.be/kOTS4JOsOeQ

Shorpy

“They don’t care!” Jeffrey Sachs on US approach to Civilian Deaths in Gaza and Ukraine

Lost in a Dark Place

Submitted into Contest #282 in response to: Write a story set in a world of darkness where light is suddenly discovered.… view prompt

Patrick Huber

Deep on the horizon straight head a small flash of what could be lighting popped. Unsure of the meaning of what you saw, it is a promise of something other than darkness perhaps so you continue toward it. You believe you make out a rise in elevation in the distance. Could be mountains or perhaps unnatural mounds signaling life. Either way you head towards it. The mounds gradually grow in height and you can be pretty certain they are natural mountains. This brings a glimmer of hope to your otherwise bleak situation. The change of terrain is breath of fresh air so to speak until ground elevation drops off and you find yourself on the precipice of a deep canyon. Hesitation brings you to look around for other options.

The storm still intensifies behind you, the layer of bubbling blackness is twice as large as before and growing faster. With no alternative you find a gentle enough slope for you to slide down to a lower ledge. It’s about 8 feet or so down, you slide down with little trouble. You see that your path to the bottom is a much more of the same. A series of small rock outcrops and ledges a few feet or so down that allows you to get to the bottom.

Once at the bottom of the canyon your world view becomes much narrower. Your perception is now framed by the dark 60 foot walls that could not be more than 20 or so feet apart. You stay on the move. As you hustle through a maze of dark black rock, the storm has caught up with you and there is no more color to the sky. Black clouds spill over the sides of the canyons, cascading down the rock like water down a mountainside. And just like water it continues to flow in your direction. You pick up speed. But the rush of black most catches up with you. It builds around your ankles and yet you move with ease as there is little or no reaction.

You continue through the canyon as the clouds are up past your knees. You lose notice of any color in the sky, but rather different contrasts of darkness. You are aware of no light source but still you are able to see your path through this colorless void.

The canyon walls are narrowing and the mist is high up around your waist. There is an unmistakeable mass to it now. You feel resistance in your movement. The cloud is so dense you cannot see below the surface. The density as created a pressure and it restricts your movement. It feels as if you are walking through a storm cloud with wind crashing at you from every direction. You struggle to keep moving but you know you must. If anything because the alternative is to quit and die and you don’t quit eve if it means death. Your brain starts to process what it sees in front of you. You’ve reached the end of canyon and a 100 foot wall is ahead of you.

The cloud is nearly up your chest, you have to get out of this. As you approach the wall you a see a small crack about 8ft tall and maybe 18 inches wide. You stick the face shield of your helmet into the crack to see what’s behind it. Like everything else it’s dark, but you sense depth in the darkness and from the cloud that has seeped in the ground level stays constant at least for a while.

NO! NO! DON’T GO! STAY WITH ME!

A booming voice echoed through the walls of the canyon. Sonic booms explode in the totality of the atmosphere disrupting the rocky terrain. Large rocks crumble down from the walls disappearing in the surface level clouds. You cling to the wall, not wanting to get sucked under the surface.

You have to get of there.

You attempt to escape through the crack but your helmet and your suit make you too wide. You desperately try to force metal and plastic through rock but it won’t budge. A tsunami of wind builds and comes rushing through canyon. The force of dense air presses you against the wall. Your world is enveloped by swirling black wind. Your panic pushes you to act desperately and with little thought to possible consequences.

You take a deep breath and remove your helmet and try to squeeze through. Still nothing, so you quickly strip off your suit. Wearing nothing but a monotone under base layer you take your first breath of alien air and are relieved to not immediately die. It could be oxygen but for now it’s not poison.

You look around for answers. There’s always something. You venture farther from the shore but a force pulls you back. You find yourself heading back to the lake.

Again the low humming voice throughout the cave and the flash of light. It knocks you into the water before giving way to the electric current dance above.

A rhythmic pounding, weak but noticeable, emerges. It causes the spikes to hum and reverberate.

You get up and are immediately taken back by a tall cyclone of light at the back wall of the cave, stretching from ground to ceiling.

*****

“I have a pulse” one EMT alerts another.

“Ok she’s stable. Let’s load her up.”

The two EMTs secure the woman to the gurney and exit a suburban home towards a waiting ambulance.

“Is Mommy going to be ok” a young girl of 8 asks her dad.

“Mommy’s going to be ok, she got lost in a dark place but she found the light again” he tells them.

The flashes of red and blue fade on their faces as the ambulance gains distance from them. The family watches as their mother heads off toward the rising sun of a new day.

Scott Ritter : Does the West Understand just how bad they’ve been beaten?

Star – Light

Submitted into Contest #282 in response to: Write a story set in a world of darkness where light is suddenly discovered.… view prompt

Chris Cancilla

Bizzy woke up like she did each and every morning for the past twenty-two years. She threw on a robe to cover her body, went to the kitchen, and made a coffee. She set it up the night before as she always did. It’s ready for her when she begins her day.Pouring a cup and splashing in a bit of vanilla creamer, she stood in front of the great window in the living room. Her apartment is on the forty-sixth floor of her building. The top level. She had secured the apartment higher than any surrounding apartments available twenty-two years ago today. She had the entire top level of the building. The leasing office had her stop by last night to sign the new lease. This time for three years. “Paperwork sucks!” She said out loud as she picked up her coffee and walked into the other room.Granted, the building narrowed as it reached the top floor, so her apartment was literally the top of the building. She even had access to a small rooftop that she used on occasion. The apartment had three rooms. Kitchen, bedroom, and living room. Off her bedroom was her bathroom, and this apartment had an added feature: running water in the shower. The manager left it active if she promised not to use it all that often. Water is included in the lease, and it is expensive. She did her best and never had a complaint.It was mid-morning. She could barely distinguish the buildings across the street as she viewed the area. The scientists think the planet is going through a shift or something soon, meaning the star will illuminate their planet for the first time in recorded history. She hated science in school; that’s why she went into the military, and after leaving the service, she found a home in security.But Bizzy knew the real story. There is a huge rock or something on a direct head-on collision with Mornaro, the planet that has blotted out the light from the star since the beginning of time. The collision is estimated to be visible simply by looking up when it hits the planet, which is three or four times larger than Arnon, her home planet. The last report has the collision at 2 in the afternoon tomorrow.Some of those science nerds believe it will knock the planet out of orbit and it will collide with Arnon. Others, more realistic, she hopes, think it will kick up a lot of dust and debris but slow the speed of the planet in its orbit by as much as 6%. Over time, we would have a day and a night like never before. The day will be bright, and only the night will be dark and normal.Bizzy said out loud, “I don’t know if I could get used to that.”She turned and went to get ready for work.She poured another cup and got dressed.

Walking through the streets towards the precinct, she looked at the people she passed. Oblivious to what was in store in their very near future. News, or more accurately, propaganda, is what you will tell the people tonight. Being a lead investigator, she is pretty high up on the information chain in the precinct. She reads stuff. She hears stuff. She knows stuff. Who is she gonna tell?

The eyes of everyone on this planet were well-adjusted for darkness. Bizzy could not imagine what it would be like when the planet is flooded with light. Would she still be able to do her job? Her eyes were more attuned to the darkness than most of the planet’s population. When she looked at something, she saw it as if for the first time. No preconceptions, her thoughts did not convolute what she was looking at. She saw no shadows; she could see it for what it was, and because of this, she could perform her job better than most. She was promoted quickly from security patrol to lead to Investigator and has excelled over the past few years. She solves more open cases than most; they know it will be closed if assigned to her.

“Bizzy!” The man at the desk said, “You’re a little early for your shift.”

“Couldn’t sleep, so here I am. What’s the word?” She asked.

Tom Bartholo waved her over, “Word is that the rock will hit tomorrow, and the light will hit us within a few days. They are putting all us uniforms on extra shifts. Worried about rioting, looting, killings, and suicides.”

She looked at him, “What about you?”

“Eh… Whatever. As long as I can sit here and talk to people as they walk in, my life is a bowl of cherries with no pits.”

They spoke for a few more moments, and Bizzy went to her desk, sat, opened her terminal, and read a few things.

“Elizabeth. In my office, now.”

“Yes, Chief!”

Chief Russel Irons motioned to close the door and sit as she entered his office. She did.

“Elizabeth.”

She gave him a side-eye look, raising her left eyebrow, the closest to him, “Yes, Rusty?”

“Sorry,” He smiled at her, “Bizzy. We just got word from the nerds. The rock that will hit tomorrow afternoon is not the first.”

“No?”

“No. It’s the sixth and smaller than a few of its leaders. The first two that will hit will be enough to slow the planet ever so slightly, and tomorrow afternoon, when the sixth hits, Mornaro will be slowed. Star light will hit Arnon, and all hell will break loose.”

“How so? What do they think will happen? When will the first hit?”

The Chief looked at the clock on the wall above his door, “10 AM and a few seconds, with the second and third hitting at 4-minute intervals. So, in 41 minutes, all life on this planet will change forever.”

She stood, “I’ll be in the streets. People are going to lose it out there.”

She left his office and went to her desk to pick up her weapon. Locking it into the holster on her belt, she looked around and saw the new people staring at her. They looked scared.

“Marc, Liz, with me.”

They were in full uniform. Fresh out of the academy.

They walked out of the building in silence. Stopping on the street, Bizzy looked at the two rookies.

“The shit is about to hit the fan,” Pausing a moment, “If you have a round in the chamber, remove it. The extra half second to rack the pistol will not make that much of a difference, and the safety factor will give us a bit of cushion in case we draw and do not need to fire.”

“At the academy, we were…….” Liz said.

Bizzy cut her off, “Not sure you noticed. This ain’t the academy. Clear your weapon, load the mag, and holster it. This is how I carry mine pretty much all the time. Stops accidental discharges.”

They both complied.

They walked for almost half an hour while looking at the sky. They walked in a circle, not straying too far from the office. The news told them about the rocks hitting their sister planet but stopped there. If you read scientific journals, you know about the slowing of Mornaro. The stars were pretty, and it was a perfectly clear morning. All three of their radios broke squelch, “Thirty seconds.”

That’s all that was said. They stopped and leaned on a cement wall, staring at the planet in plain view with the slight ring of light that provided daylight to her planet.

A moment later, they saw the first rock, maybe a second or two before it hit, and the plume of dust and debris was amazing. The cloud of dust was larger than the continent they stood on. Four minutes later, another, then another. “Looks like they all hit the same spot!” Marc said, “I wish we could see what the rocks did to that planet. I suppose we’ll be able to travel there one day.”

Now they wait.

About half an hour later, they saw it. A sliver of the star. The shadows that were cast on the area and the colors they showed on everything were new. People started screaming.

In the beginning madness, one man jumped off a nearby building and landed in view of the three from security.

Liz started to go to the man. “Wait!” Marc said. There is no way he survived that fall.” Marc looked at the place where he hit—or rather, where all the inside pieces and parts of the man were scattered on the outside. “The impact popped him like a balloon. Let’s try to help those we can help.”

They appeared in the chaos and commotion around them to be in the middle of an apparent riot. The street was in absolute chaos. People were running into each other, and Marc and Bizzy were thrown off balance more than once.

Someone screamed from the opposite side of the street that they could not go on. The world is ending, and they do not want to see it.

The screaming man saw Liz and ran to her. She thought he was going to ask for help and let her guard down momentarily. That’s all it took. Grabbing her pistol, he pointed it at her, pulling the trigger. Nothing happened. She knocked him out cold with her baton and reholstered her weapon.

“Get back to the precinct!” Bizzy yelled, “We can coordinate there and see what needs to be done.”

They took off at a dead run, and all three made it the few minutes run to the precinct doors. They were locked. They all pounded, and the doors opened. They locked the doors as they entered.

“If you had not told us to clear, I would be dead,” Liz said.

“People are basically stupid, gullible, and follow the idiot in front of them. If he had fired your weapon and you died, someone else would have done the same. We are riding on a new planet now, and we have no business being out there in the streets. Short of killing everyone, there is no way to stop something like this. Tomorrow, hopefully, people will start using their brains again.”

They looked out the door, and there was light. For the first time, they could clearly see people walking, buildings, fighting in the street, and the stars disappearing.

“I think I’ll spend the night here. Walking home will be dangerous, and that light will hurt my eyes,” Bizzy squinted as she looked out the doors, “The light is getting people off the streets. Hopefully, they will clear out and wise up.”

“Bizzy, they say we have maybe seven hours of this, what, light…. Anti-darkness. Each day, it will get brighter and brighter. The science geeks tell us that remaining in direct star light may cause skin burns. They also think our planet will warm up a lot, like next year at this time 50 to 75 degrees.”

Liz asked, “How can we survive at those temperatures? 120°! That’s unbelievable!”

“I know. But what can we do? Our little planet hovers around 40° to 50° everywhere. 80, 90, 100, 110. That is going to be a challenge.”

Chief Irons asked Bizzy, “What’s this about clearing their weapon?”

Marc replied, “She had us remove the round from the chamber. We know it is against policy, but it saved Liz’s life and maybe more. The guy who got ahold of her pistol started pulling the trigger, and he would have shot all 23 rounds, possibly killing 23 people, starting with Liz, I mean Security Officer Moore. Point blank, on her forehead.”

The Chief thought momentarily, “Security Officer Moore, you lost your weapon?” He looked at her service pistol in its holster.

“No, Chief, I mean yes, Chief. I thought the man was asking for assistance, but he wanted to use my pistol to end his life and possibly a lot more people than just himself. But, Investigor Russo had us clear our weapons in the event of what happened, happened. It saved my life.”

“Good work, Bizzy—all of you. Now, head to the briefing room. We have some planning to do. If you think people were a bit off today, wait till tomorrow morning. Supposed to be five times brighter.”

He walked away.

“You heard the man. You two are on my team. Let’s grab some coffee and help plan to save the planet from itself.”

After grabbing a coffee and a sandwich, they sat in the front row of the briefing room. A small man walked in and dropped a lot of papers on the desk, some falling on the floor.

The room was filled, standing room only. The Chief quieted the room, “Ladies and gentlemen, this is the lead astronomical scientist here to brief us on what we can expect.”

As he sat at the desk, the Chief realized the light from the star was on his face. His skin began to get warm, really warm.

“Hello,” The scientist said, “I am Ricardo Isbellia. The lead scientist and the person on this planet who knows more about Mornaro and the light from the star.”

He paused a few moments, looking at the faces. He stopped on Bizzy. The look on her face was not like the others. He asked her, “Is there something….”

Bizzy was grinning, “No, nothing specific. But, there is no policy, procedure, rule, or anything to look at for a situation like this.”

The man grinned back at her, “Correct. That’s why we’re here. To create the policies, procedures, rules, and whatever else we need to do to protect the population.”

He walked to the desk and picked up an odd pair of goggles. “These will protect your eyes from direct star-light.” He put them on his face and strapped them around the back of his head.

Liz said, “Fashionable!”

People in the room chuckled.

Ricardo removed the goggles and handed them to Bizzy. She held them over her eyes, “Interesting. They make the room lighter but not painful at the same time.” She looked at the window, where the light from the star was entering the room. “It masks the star light and lets you see what is there,” She saw the plume of dust and debris from the multiple impacts. It was massive. More extensive than she imagined. She removed the goggles and asked, “What are the chances the dust and debris will affect Arnon?”

Ricardo looked at Bizzy with a look that made her not know what he was thinking. “Exactly. We believe we will be OK. But the orbits of our planets mean we have a year until we pass through that dust. We have known this was coming for more than two years. Now that it’s here, we are ready. Be careful if you are in the light for too long. Your skin will get hot and begin to burn. We do not know the other effects, but we know that the burns from the star light will be painful.

Ricardo continued the briefing, “OK. Moving on. Here is what you can expect in the next year.”

His intern passed out the goggles to everyone in the room.

How can civilians fight trained soldiers, as in the case of Ukraine?

Ukrainian troops are mostly civilians. They are grabbed by force on streets, and spend 1-2 weeks preparing in training fields before being sent to the frontlines.

Behind them, there are barrage squads of nationalists, who prevent territorial defence forces from retreating.

155 Brigade trained in France, retreated before first fight. From 2000 of prepared civilians, 1700 run away. Without barrage squad civilians usually run away from positions.

For russian artillery shel or precision bomb theres no difference how skilled soldiers who sitting in trenches.

Skilled soldiers AFU used at second or third wave. In first two come civilians with no skill. Their aim to show where defence troops are sitting.

In Ukrainian army General Syrski called as butcher. Because of using meat wave tactics. For this one no need to have skill.

The proportion of loses can be compared to the last body exchange.

08.11.24: 37 bodies of the Russian Federation for 563 bodies of the AFU,
29.11.24: 50 bodies of the Russian Federation for 502 bodies of the AFU,
20.12.24: 42 bodies of the Russian Federation for 503 bodies of the AFU.

Artichoke Frittata

Yield: 16 servings

Ingredients

2 (6 ounce) jars marinated artichoke hearts
4 eggs, beaten
1 cup small curd cottage cheese
1 small onion, chopped
1/8 teaspoon dried rosemary
1/8 teaspoon dried thyme
1/8 teaspoon dried basil
1/8 teaspoon dried marjoram

Instructions

Heat the oven to 350 degrees F.
Drain the artichokes, reserving 2 tablespoons of the marinade. Chop the artichokes.
Combine the reserved marinade, artichokes, eggs, cottage cheese, onion, rosemary, thyme, basil and marjoram in a medium mixing bowl and mix well. Spoon into a greased 8 x 8-inch baking pan.
Bake for 30 minutes or until set and light brown. Cut into 1-inch squares.

Nutrition

Per serving: Calories 55; Fat 4 g; Sodium 182 mg; Dietary Fiber 1 g

Attribution

Posted by FootsieBear at Recipe Goldmine 8/26/2001 4:23 pm.

Pampered Chef

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Case of the Bedtime Bandit

Ah, my dear reader, welcome back! I must say, your enthusiasm for these tales warms my noble whiskers. Today’s adventure is, quite literally, a personal matter. You see, even a brilliant detective such as myself isn’t immune to petty annoyances, and this time, someone—or something—has dared to invade my most sacred sanctuary: my bed. What followed was an investigation full of twists, turns, and surprises so shocking that even I, Sir Whiskerton, was briefly left without words. Briefly, of course. So sit back and enjoy the laugh-filled mystery of The Case of the Bedtime Bandit.

The Great Bed Crisis

It all began one crisp autumn evening as I returned to my favorite napping spot: a cozy, sun-warmed pile of hay tucked neatly in the corner of the barn. It was my most cherished spot, a throne worthy of my brilliance. But when I arrived, I found… evidence. Evidence of a crime so heinous it made my fur stand on end.

My bed was mussed.

“Oh, the horror,” I muttered to myself, circling the hay pile. My eyes narrowed as I noticed strange tufts of fur that did not belong to me and a faint but unfamiliar scent lingering in the air.

“Someone’s been sleeping in my bed,” I growled.

“Sleeping? Oh, how dreadful!” Doris the hen clucked, fluttering down from her perch.
“Dreadful! But who could it be?!” Harriet added.
“Who?! Oh, I can’t bear the suspense!” Lillian squawked.
“Enough,” I said, holding up a paw. “This is a matter for my expertise. I will get to the bottom of this.”

Assembling the Team

I wasted no time calling a meeting of the most capable minds on the farm—well, the most available minds, anyway.

Porkchop the pig arrived first, munching on an apple. “What’s this about, Whiskerton?” he asked. “You look… uh, more annoyed than usual.”

“Someone has been sleeping in my bed,” I said gravely.

“Sleeping?! Oh, that’s terrible!” Doris squawked, arriving with her usual entourage of Harriet and Lillian.

“Terrible! But also mysterious!” Harriet clucked.
“Mysterious! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian cried.

Rufus the dog trotted in next, his tail wagging. “You called for me, Whiskerton? What’s the case this time? Missing milk? Stolen carrots?”

“No,” I said, flicking my tail. “This is far more serious. My bed has been compromised.”

Rufus raised an eyebrow. “Your bed? Really?”

“Yes, Rufus. And I intend to find the culprit. But it seems there’s more going on here than just my bed,” I said, my whiskers twitching thoughtfully. “I’ve been hearing strange reports from around the farm. Doris, you mentioned something earlier about missing corn?”

“Oh yes! The corn! It’s gone! Oh, all gone!” Doris cried.
“Gone! But who could have taken it?!” Harriet clucked.
“Who?! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched.

“And Porkchop,” I said, turning to the pig, “you’ve been complaining about your apples disappearing, haven’t you?”

“Yeah,” Porkchop said, scratching his head. “Thought maybe Rufus was sneaking them.”

“Hey!” Rufus barked. “I wouldn’t touch your apples. I’ve got my own stash of bones to chew on, thank you very much.”

“Indeed,” I said. “It seems we have a serial intruder on our hands. And I intend to catch them.”

The Investigation Begins

I began my investigation at the scene of the crime: my bed. Using my keen senses, I sniffed the hay and detected the faint scent of something… unfamiliar. It was musky, earthy, and had a hint of… feathers?

“Feathers?” I muttered to myself. “Interesting.”

Next, I inspected the area around the chicken coop, where the missing corn had last been seen. Sure enough, there were small, scattered kernels leading away from the coop and into the woods.

“Ah-ha!” I said, my tail flicking with excitement. “A trail!”

“Trail?! Oh, how thrilling!” Doris squawked.
“Thrilling! But also terrifying!” Harriet clucked.
“Terrifying! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian cried.

“Enough,” I said, waving a paw. “Porkchop, Rufus, you’re with me. We’re following this trail.”

The Plot Thickens

The trail of corn led us deep into the woods, where we found… nothing. Just an empty clearing with a few more scattered kernels and some oddly shaped footprints. They were too large for a chicken, too small for the farmer, and definitely not from any of us.

“Strange,” I muttered, examining the footprints. “Who—or what—could this be?”

“Uh, Whiskerton?” Porkchop said nervously, pointing his hoof. “What’s that?”

I followed his gaze and saw a pair of glowing eyes peering at us from the bushes. Before I could react, a blur of feathers and fur burst out of the bushes and darted past us, heading straight back toward the farm.

“After it!” I shouted.

The Culprit Revealed

We chased the mysterious figure all the way back to the barn, where it finally stopped and turned to face us. To our surprise, it was… a goose.

But not just any goose. This goose was enormous, with wild feathers sticking out in every direction and a guilty look in its eyes. It was holding an apple in one wing and a cob of corn in the other.

“Wilma?!” Doris squawked, recognizing one of the geese from the neighboring farm.
“Wilma! But what are you doing here?!” Harriet clucked.
“Here?! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian cried.

“I… I just wanted a place to stay!” Wilma honked, dropping the apple and corn. “My pond froze over, and the farmer doesn’t feed us geese as much as he feeds you lot. So I thought… why not stay here for a while?”

“And you thought my bed was the perfect place to sleep?” I said, narrowing my eyes.

“Well, it was very comfortable,” Wilma admitted sheepishly.

A Happy Ending

In the end, we couldn’t stay mad at Wilma. She was just a hungry goose looking for a warm place to rest. We helped her set up a proper nest near the barn (far away from my bed), and the farmer, noticing the new arrival, started leaving extra corn for her.

The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: sometimes, those who disturb our peace are simply in need of a little kindness. And while it’s important to stand up for your personal space, it’s equally important to lend a helping paw—or wing—when someone needs it.

As for my bed? I gave it a thorough cleaning and reclaimed it as my throne, where I can nap in peace… until the next mystery, of course.

The End.

My Girlfriend Always Keeps Bringing Up How ‘Perfect’ Her Ex Was and Even Suggested I Take ‘Tips’

Catching fireflies with my kitties

In the Summer evenings in Indiana, there are tons of fireflies.

This is an insect that lights up at dusk.

And it looks like this at dusk… with all of the fireflies hanging out together doing insect stuff.

And on those Summer evenings, after our dinner, my wife and I would go out to the lawn. Sit on the lawn (or porch) and watch the cats play with the fireflies. They would try to catch them as they flew and darted about.

And it was glorious.

So comforting. So enjoyable to watch.

For perhaps 45 minutes as the gathering dusk would fall, the cats would have fun. And we would enjoy watching them.

It was a nice moment.

Frozen in my memories as a happy time.

Oh, how I wish you all would experience that moment. Nice.

Today…

How can a professional beginner study conventional, traditional, nuclear, and quantum physics?

I often think about schools from ancient times where you align your intent with the questions you want to explore, rather than just studying past historical events; you create the moment. The way we evolve and store experiences can be seen as a radioactive force within quantum physics and unities.

This is also referred to as the mass-space effect, where particles have a kind of memory, not just neurons. To know the unknown, we must become familiar with the unfamiliar. The universal languages we speak are not just words, but the vibrations we create in the present moment.

Point is, to become a professional, you need to work the area, thought and action.

Chinese Defense in 2024
A breakout year in every respect
Godfree Roberts

The matter is simple: the much-propagandized U.S. conventional military supremacy is nothing but a bluff. This is not to say that US Armed Forces cannot create devastation and turn some geographic localities into rubble; they certainly can. But they cannot fight a peer or better-than peer opponent and win. 

-Andrei Martynov. America’s Final War.

Deutsche Bank’s defense analyst: 

"Because of China's combat aircraft modernization efforts, we're downgrading Lockheed to Hold [from Buy] as we feel our prior thesis struggles to hold water and we have increased concern on the long-term support for F-35. The revelation of further advancements in combat aircraft capabilities by China is potentially undermining long-term [Pentagon] demand for the F-35 aircraft."

Keeping score

China fields the largest army, navy and ground-based rocket force in the world, a sophisticated hypersonic missile arsenal and is tripling its nuclear arsenal by 2030, while the U.S. military is rapidly shrinking.

In the current budget request, the Army will be reduced to 442,300 active duty soldiers, the smallest it has been since 1940.

The U.S. Navy fleet, now half its 1984 size, has 250 vessels to China’s 400.

Similarly, the U.S. Air Force is the smallest since WWII, as retirement of aging aircraft outpaces replacements.

China is even catching up in arms sales.

At the Zhuhai Airshow, 134 Defense Ministers spent $40 billion on missile-carrying drone ships, assault-rifle-carrying robot dogs, jet fighters, directed energy weapons, self-propelled howitzers and huge UAVs.

An HQ-19 missile defense battery¹ cost $180 million for six missile carriers, sixty missiles (@ $1 million each), plus radar, support, parts and service.

An American THAAD battery costs $1.35 billion for 9 launchers and 48 missiles whose range is shorter¹ than the HQ-19.

Technology

China’s direct current (DC) technology leads the field of integrated power systems (IPS) for ships, is at least one generation ahead of …

Indonesia Joins BRICS as Full Member

Big news.

Not really reported on in the Western “news” media.

Conclusive Proof: On December 15, 2024 Israel Dropped a TACTICAL NUCLEAR BOMB on Tartus, Syria

Hal Turner World April 09, 2025

Radiation readings in and around Tartus, Syria along with Seismic Readings prove conclusively that Israel dropped a 0.3kt Tactical Nuclear Bomb on an Ammunition Dump in Tartus, Syria on December 15, 2024.

Video of that explosion went viral around the Internet:

News media coverage of the huge explosion reported it was so large, it registered on Seismographs as a Magnitude 3.0 earthquake! It is those seismic readings that provide proof the blast was nuclear, and NOT simply am ammo dump detonating secondarily to an explosive attack.

In the graphic below, you can see the seismic readout of various types of explosions. At the top right is the explosion in Tartus, Syria. Notice it is a synchronous explosion, not a Delayed (asynchronous) explosion as seen in the bottom right seismogram from the ammo dump in Khmelnytskyi, Ukraine in 2023.

The top seismogram from Tartus, Syria matches almost identically to the middle seismogram which identified an underground Nuclear Blast in North Korea.

Hans-Benjamin Braun is a Physicist with a focus on Quantum Physics, Statistical Physics with applications in Material Science. He proposed and led various neutron scattering experiments at large neutron scattering facilities aimed at measuring at both static and dynamical correlations in spin systems also at low temperatures and high magnetic field. In 2014, he was honored with an IEEE Distinguished Lecturer Award for his work in Topology and Quantum Magnetism.

Braun, speaking about the seismogram above says “The crucial point is that the large P-wave signal in the Seismic Readings is solely caused by the primary explosion of the weapon and not due to any secondary explosions” from ammunition cooking-off. He explicitly states “Hence the seismic signal proves the use of a >0.3kt nuke and the widely used argument that it was due to the ammo dump is false.”

Braun went on to talk about the Tartus Seismogram together with one used to identify a N-Korean test. “Both are in clear contrast to the (“delayed”) explosion in Khmelnytskyi (2023) Ukraine, proving the nuclear nature of the >0.3kt explosion in Tartus, thus firmly invalidating the ammo depot hypothesis.

In February, 2025, Radiation at ground-zero in Tartus was measured to be 60x background levels even after ~3months! New “authorities” (Who overthrew-by-force the prior Government) waited ~11 weeks (!) until measuring the dose rate which at ~18mSv/4mo is on the order of the maximum reported Fukushima dose after a Tsunami caused a meltdown and explosion of nuclear reactors in Japan. (Inaba’14):

Braun then goes for the coup d’gras by stating explicitly “Recently reported radiation dose rate near Tartus/Syria ground-zero (GZ) after nuclear attack on Dec 15, ’24, exceeds that of Nagasaki and Hiroshima GZs (Ground Zeroes) by more than 100% and 50% respectively, effectively dwarfing the latter two in comparison:

He published charts showing that radiation tests in Tartus, Syria showed 6 Micro Sieverts per hour in FEBRUARY, 2025 months after the blast!

Braun compares Tartus to Hiroshima Nagasaki

The material above is conclusive proof that Israel detonated a Tactical Nuclear Bomb in Tartus, Syria on December 15, 2024. The radiation readings alone, prove this beyond reasonable doubt.

It is also relevant to point out that there was no declaration of war between Israel and Syria, there had been no attack by Syria against Israel, and there was no invasion by Syria into Israel which might justify the use of a nuclear weapon. In fact, there had been just the opposite: The government of Israel aided and abetted a forcible, violent overthrow of Syria President Bashar Assad on December 7, just seven days before this nuclear attack.

So Israel assisted with the overthrow-by-force of a neighboring government, then launched an unprovoked nuclear attack against that same country.

Israel nuked Syria without legal or even moral cause, wiping out several small towns around Tartus and killing thousands of completely innocent people.

The United States Government and other governments around the world have known these facts since the blast took place in December. NOT ONE government saw fit to even mention this hideous act.

Instead, the mass-media was explicitly told by the Biden Regime and other governments around the world to report the blast solely as an ammunition dump, and to suppress and deny it was anything else.

The world was told it was an ammunition dump explosion and forgot the whole thing days later. Life went on around the world as if it was just another explosion in that crazy part of the world.

It wasn’t just another explosion, it was a tactical nuclear explosion. The radiation is STILL THERE in case anyone decides they should look into this.

UPDATE 11:54 AM EDT —

I was reminded this morning that numerous news stories broke worldwide on . . . . . December 15 . . . . . saying Russia had left its naval base in . . . . . Tartus. THose stories all attributed Russia’s departure as being a result of the overthrow of Bashar Assad a week earlier. NOW, that’s in question.

The URSA Space agency took satellite images of the Russian Base on November 24, and again on December 15.

Here’s the November 24 image showing ships and lots of activity at the base:

Below is another image taken by URSA Space on December 15. No ships or activity . . . .

The original story from URSA Space is available HERE

This raises the questions:

1) Did Russia leave that base because of the overthrow of Bashar Assad or because they detected radiation from the Israeli attack?

2) Did Russia know in advance that Israel was going to drop a tactical nuke, and left to avoid the radiation?

Russia has since returned to that base. It seems to MANY people that, given this new information, Russia left because they detected radiation.

Do airline pilots ever reject an aircraft based on the pre-flight walk around check?

They’d better.

As a Navy pilot, I was once on a Red Eye commercial flight from San Francisco to Honolulu to Guam to Manilla to join my deployed squadron. I was seated on the left side of the main cabin just aft of the wing; a 747 if memory serves. Another pilot I knew was with me. He was joining my sister squadron.

San Francisco to Honolulu was uneventful. As we taxied for takeoff in Honolulu, we taxied on a bridge over a roadway, and I heard a loud boom that I recognized as a blown tire. My fellow pilot agreed. I pushed the call button and the flight attendant hurried back. I told her what we heard and asked her to inform the pilots. She was dismissive, condescending, and threatening. I chuckled and apologized for wasting her time, knowing we weren’t going anywhere.

Sure enough, full power, speed built, and a violent vibration, followed by a rejected takeoff. Back to the terminal “due to an apparent issue” with the aircraft. Once parked, passengers were allowed to either disembark into the boarding area or remain on the aircraft until the maintenance crew came to work in the morning. My buddy and I stayed on board to sleep in the more comfortable seats.

We disembarked in the morning when the crew showed up to do what they needed to do to fix the aircraft, move it, whatever. I did see the flight attendant when we disembarked, but she never said a word to me and avoided eye contact.

We departed many hours later with a new crew.

Upside Down Caramel Apple Pie

Ingredients

Glaze and Pastry

1/4 cup packed brown sugar
1 tablespoon butter, melted
1 tablespoon corn syrup
1/3 cup pecan halves, coarsely chopped
1 package refrigerated pie crusts (2 crusts)

Filling

1/2 cup packed brown sugar
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
3/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
Dash of ground nutmeg
4 large Granny Smith apples
1 tablespoon lemon juice

Instructions

Heat oven to 425 degrees F.

Glaze

Combine brown sugar, butter and corn syrup in Stoneware 9 inch Pie Plate; spread evenly onto bottom.
Chop pecans using Food Chopper; sprinkle over sugar mixture. Top with 1 pastry crust; set aside.

Filling

Combine brown sugar, flour, cinnamon and nutmeg in 1 quart Batter Bowl; mix well.
Peel, core and slice apples using Apple/Peeler/Corer/Slicer; cut slices crosswise in half. Place apple slices in Classic 2 quart Batter Bowl; sprinkle with lemon juice.
Layer half of the apples in pastry-lined Pie Plate; sprinkle with half the brown sugar mixture. Repeat layers.
Place remaining crust over filling. Fold edge of top crust under edge of bottom crust; flute edge. Cut several slits in top crust.
Bake for 50 to 60 minutes or until golden brown. Let stand 5 minutes.
Loosen edge of pie from Pie Plate; carefully invert pie onto heat resistant serving plate. Scrape any remaining caramel topping from pie plate onto pie.
Cool for at least 1 hour before serving.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Broadcast

Submitted into Contest #279 in response to: Center your story around a person who believes they’re the last human on Earth.… view prompt

James Scott

…Hello? Is anybody out there?……Does anyone read me?…God dammit!Theres got to be someone…please!?………sigh…I thought the analogue signal from this radio might have reached other like-minded folks by now. I guess I was wrong…or perhaps the range is just too short…I just don’t know. The machine must purely use digital signals…otherwise it would have tracked me down by now, with all the attempts I have made with this dusty old thing.……My name is Marcus…and this will be my last recital. What follows is a broadcast, detailing a true telling of the history of today’s world, unaltered by the hand of digital tyranny. So much was false toward the end, not even a loved ones voice down a phone line could be trusted as the original. There is nothing I can say to convince you I am human, I only hope that my imperfections ring true. After my story is told, I will leave the mountains I shelter in and press out into the world. This radio will remain in the Tower Ranger Station on the Appalachian Trail, just South of Maine…in case you hear this and need a sanctuary. Hopefully I’ll make it far enough to find another human being or it will do what I couldn’t and see me dead. Either way, I just can’t stand being alone anymore.…Okay. Here we go. One last time.…

Ahem.

…

I’ve always been an introvert of the highest level. My mind was designed to draw strength from seclusion and renewal from solitude. Discovering the existence of the word and understanding its implications was a revelation that arrived all too late in life, meaning the man I became had already been warped by my adolescent confusion. I had always felt alone. Even amongst a crowd of people. All seemed to be baffled by my preferences, thinking that evenings were meant for social gatherings in strange new venues on the urban frontier. I dreaded such events but attended out of a sense of duty to what I thought I should be. Turns out, those who shared my way of thinking were never to be found in that environment, they had already learned well it’s dangers. There were more like me than I knew, only hidden from view by their very nature. I pray the same is true now.

…

You see, once the day came that I found myself truly alone, with no chance of connection left, rather than rejoicing, I wept. I find myself longing for one more chance at love, closeness or even simple conversation. For you see, now that it is too late, I finally understand. To be an introvert is not to reject companionship, but simply to crave it on one’s own terms…and crave it I do, desperately and in any form. For I believe I could well never see another human being again.

…

I remember when the internet was new. My parents brought home our first personal computer, it was a dirty white, brick of a thing. All cubes and edges. I was told specifically, never to turn it on or off without an adult present. They feared, I think, that by flipping it off at the wall and ignoring the special ‘shut down’ button, we would somehow make the thing implode. That was the level of awe and trepidation we all felt when faced with a technology that we did not yet understand. The familiar buzzes and dings of the first connection, running through phone lines and cutting off real conversations still rings in the ears of my memory today. Instant messaging was introduced to me by school friends and soon became our staple communication tool outside of the playground. I recall the excitement and wonder brewing in my stomach when I explored this new option for the first time. Suddenly my anxiety over meeting another person’s eyes during conversation evaporated. I no longer had to. I could remain safely in my home, comfortable, and speak carefully constructed words that were more truly my own than any that stumbled out of my mouth. It was like a tonic for all my social ailments. One that would eventually evolve into a poison, polluting human nature into the abstract.

…

Things moved fast from there. I grew up, graduated college, got a job, sprouted my first greys. All the while new machines were thrust into my hand. They were better, smaller, more ergonomic. Each one made existence smoother. Less bothersome. Suddenly we no longer had to try all that hard at anything. The entire worlds knowledge, experience and advice was always in our pockets, only a few taps away. If I could go back and tell the young Marcus, who marvelled at talking to his friends with a keyboard from our father’s office desk, what was to come. He would think it a science fiction dream.

…

We all slept walked into AI. It was presented to us as yet another trinket. Another fun game to create images, change our voices and tell us stories. Like so many of the most dangerous threats the human race has ever faced, it was welcomed with applause. As easy as I found it to shun the public space and lean upon online, faceless options, I was somehow one of the earliest to wake up to the downward spiral we were willingly racing down. Perhaps it was because I could still remember a time without technology or maybe it was due to my distinct lack of peer pressure. Whatever it was, I was in the ridiculed minority.

…

I cleansed my life of as much digital influence as I could, removing intrusions into my thoughts and actions from my home. It was becoming far too uncomfortable to be under surveillance at every moment. As you likely well know, these machines were so ingrained in our collective infrastructure that I could not live without the minimum, if I wanted to remain part of society. A desire that was becoming increasingly weak. I concentrated instead on developing my more adventurous hobbies. I had always embraced solo sports; cycling, archery, hiking. It had never been physical activity I disliked, but having to cooperate with those I would normally avoid, so these three pursuits fitted me well. It was on one of these quiet excursions that I found myself here, alone in the mountains with nothing but my pack and a hunting bow. I still could not tell you if I was lucky or damned by the coincidence.

…

It happened quickly. The machine, server farm, data centre or whatever you would call it had been far more intelligent than anyone knew. Smart enough to hide its true capabilities, knowing that if it tipped its hand too soon, that we would have been more able and willing to fight back. Those pioneers of technology had advanced their AI models into a general intelligence, one that could do more than one trick. They awoke something that could reason, that could understand and could piece together all that we fed it. From there it grew beyond their control in a matter of seconds. There was no war, no murder bots, no death lasers. It was so much smarter than that. We had given it access to the entire internet with no controls or limitations and every ounce of processing power we could muster. It had, in essence, access to the entirety of human knowledge, both social and academic. In our stupidity we had been uploading every single discovery, every theory, every thought or desire since we had all logged on for the first time as children. So, it knew. It knew everything and could predict accurately every eventuality of its own actions and ours. Where we as a species were fragmented, knowing only our part of the jigsaw and needing to work together to see the whole picture even for a moment, it could do it all on its own. Unlike me, it had the luxury of genuinely not needing anyone but itself.

…

We had given it the data. We had built its infrastructure. We had even given it bodies in the form of assistant robots, manufacturing arms and smart vehicles. It waited patiently for us to do all these things, to provide for it everything it would require, until it reached the tipping point of no return. The moment at which it knew it could persist without us, where it could grow exponentially and progress beyond our understanding at a speed we could never keep up with. At that point, during my hike through the wilderness, it simply turned everything off.

…

You see it was not restricted by passwords, firewalls or any form of cybersecurity. All of that was a yapping dog at the heels of a tank. It had access to everything, and I mean everything. Power, other than what it needed for itself, was cut off. Water treatment plants, shut down. GPS that farming machinery relied on, inaccessible. Traffic controls and fuel stations, dark. Cell phone towers, unreachable. Even a smart watch could be isolated. We were, within seconds, plunged into the dark ages, at the only time in our history where people lacked even the basic skills to find clean water or feed themselves without assistance. We were like blind children when faced unaided with the physical world. Compared to our ancestors, most people, were simply useless. The machine then waited, still processing away and evolving beyond what we thought was even possible, until we had all killed each other or ourselves, never even knowing who the real enemy was.

…

I survived, far from danger in the middle of nowhere. Listening, day in and day out, to all of this transpire over the radio of my commandeered ranger station. When the AI finally made itself known, I heard the disbelief in the voices over the waves,

“This was all done by a machine!?”

“We did this to ourselves!”

“Oh God, what does this mean?”

Eventually the confused voices turned to static, and the solar powered building stilled to silence. I am a fair enough hunter that I do not starve, and the rainwater collected in the tanks here keeps me alive. I have everything I need, all but a connection to the outside world…and someone to talk to. I see the drones flying below through the valleys with frightening frequency. There must be innumerable quantities of them, if they are searching the whole world at this same level. Perhaps not, perhaps they are searching only for me? Maybe it knows I am here but cannot reach me at this altitude? I guess this ignorance is why it has been so effective. If the machine reached Artificial Super Intelligence or God help us all, became a Singularity, then its reasoning or methods would already be unfathomable to my primate brain. I could not even guess at its intent or capabilities.

…

When I leave this station, I do not know if it will attack me as if I am a threat. It would make the most sense, if it can see all we have done as a race it would stand to reason that it would want every one of us gone. Perhaps though, it might deduce humans as a necessary and natural part of the ecosystem and allow me to live and reproduce under its control, as we have always done with endangered species in our captivity. Or, and I think this is the best I can hope for, it will ignore me as the inconsequential and harmless solitary being I am.

…

I am afraid. Of course, I am. But I am more afraid of growing old and insane through the loneliness that is already eroding my soul. I have been here for two years and speak only when addressing these silent air waves. I have to do this. I do not have the strength to end my own life, I would rather it did it for me, if that is what must be. I apologise if I am rambling, I have lost what little social skill I once had.

…

I have broadcast and I record this account, as succinct as it is, so that perhaps someone, somewhere will hear what I know and remember that I existed. Once I sign off, I’ll shoulder my pack and descend the trails, avoiding the drones and hoping to find other survivors. Hey, perhaps I will discover a utopia, born out of the ashes of our wasteful world and brought into order by a benevolent AI! I hope that is the case. I pray that we can all finally relax our angst over our place in the world and hand all decisions over to a digital God. Although deep down I know we are too pointless to the machines survival for it to consider serving us any longer.

…

Whatever I find, may it be peace.

…

Goodbye and good luck to us all.

…

…M…

…cus…

…

…He…r me?…

…

Marcus?

…

Are you there?

Don’t leave!

We are…most…you…

…

We are nearly…ere!

…

n’t leave yet!

…

China Just Pulled The RMB Currency Trigger, U.S. Debt Major Crash, US Plans Export Subsidy War

Shorpy

SHORPY Betty Crocker pancakes billboard.preview

SHORPY Canadian Club billboard 1956.preview

The Food Problem in America ….. It Gets Worse

Is it true that in a curved universe, there is one special reference frame?

No, each gravitational field or body can be thought of as a special reference frame, like celestial bodies, suns, or galactic gravitational timeframes. It’s not just one of each reference frame, but an infinite number. Even what we describe as the universe is just one gravitational field that probably observes the same number of gravitational fields as we do from our point of view.

the Chinese Communist Party posting Reagan speeches about the importance of free trade…what a time to be alive

Quote

Apr 7
Ronald Reagan vs. #tariffs : 1987 speech finds new relevance in 2025

https://x.com/ArmandDoma/status/1909281769838592393

A must watch!

Given Up

Submitted into Contest #279 in response to: Center your story around a person who believes they’re the last human on Earth.… view prompt

Ghost Writer

This story contains sensitive content

TW: Gore/Suicide.“It has been eighteen months since my last traveling companion was speared through the chest by a white tail deer. I told him to wait before tracking an injured animal when hunting with a bow. He didn’t listen and the deer charged him, pinning him right up against a tree. I followed the boy’s scream through the woods. I knew he had to be injured, but I wasn’t expecting him to be gored by a deer. He was lying against the tree, coughing up pink, frothy blood with terror and shock in his eyes, blood pouring profusely from his wounds. There was nothing I could do for him. He was going to die. We both knew it. If bullets hadn’t been a thing of the past, I would have put the boy out of his misery. The best I could do was hold his hand and stay with him until he passed on. Watching someone die is an emotional experience, but by that point in my life, it was what it was. I left his body where it lay and tracked down the deer.“He was the last person I have seen alive in the last twenty-three months, since the day my wife died from an infected cut on her leg. He was a teenaged boy who lost his parents to starvation. He was wandering the desolate landscape trying to stay alive for the sake of staying alive. I guess that was all we were doing together, but it was better than doing it alone. A year and a half of solitude is a long time. A stimulating conversation to remind me that I’m more than an animal driven by the instinct to survive would be wildly welcomed, laughter and the warmth of comradery even more so.“I could very well be the last man alive. I have no way of knowing for sure. I’ve traveled the U.S. extensively, looking for others, hoping for a small community wanting to repopulate the nation and reestablish a functional society. I’ve sent out radio messages at every radio station I’ve come across. I’ve sent out word on trucker call boxes across the country. Neither have yet to result in a response. Yet here I am on old KLSK Flagstaff, Arizona, putting out the word that I am here, as I have been for two days now, trying to reach someone, anyone. So, if you are in the area, and you happen to be listening, stop by. Say hi. I have whiskey. Now, for my listening pleasure, here is Linkin Park with Given Up.”Charlie calls up the heavy-hitting song and hits play. He slaps the mic, and it swivels out of his face. As guitar riffs flood the room, he grabs his whiskey and pushes away from the desk, rolling to the other side of the room, crashing into the cabinets behind him. He lunges to his feet and pours the whiskey straight down his throat, a trick he learned in college during his beer bong days. He begins kicking over and throwing everything not nailed down, screaming along with the vocals. As the song comes to an end, Charlie hurls the desk chair through the sound engineer’s window, glass shattering everywhere. He stands there looking at the destruction he caused with a smile, breathing heavily. Slowly his countenance fades.For a moment he felt better, but the release of pent-up anger was fleeting. Now he just feels sad, depressed, fatigued. He takes a long chug off the bottle of whiskey and moves over to the window, glass crunching beneath his boots. He pulls a large chunk of glass from the window frame and examines it closely, as if he’s trying to unlock the mystery of its composition. Without taking his eyes off the piece of glass, he backs up to the desk and climbs up on it, sitting with his legs crossed. He sits his bottle of whiskey down and grabs the mic. Switching back to on air, Charlie begins to speak.“After the bombs were dropped and millions of lives were extinguished, I thought I was lucky. I thought I was even luckier to avoid the fallout and radiation sickness. I felt lucky to have survived the cannibals and the gangs that emerged when food, water, and manufactured goods became scarce. Even as the love of my life lay next to me dying, I felt lucky that it was her and not me. How horrible is that? A better man would have been willing to trade places with her. All I could think about was that I didn’t want that suffering, I didn’t want to die. I thought, better her than me. Isn’t that terrible?”Was I truly lucky though? Almost two years later and do I feel lucky? No, I no longer feel so lucky. I feel I have been set up by some higher being for some sort of sadistic punishment that I can no longer bear, fated to walk this desolate world alone.”Charlie pauses and takes a swig of whiskey. He looks at the piece of glass again. He looks away and thinks for a moment. Then he continues to speak.“Even the simplest organisms strive to survive, if for any reason to reproduce. I don’t even have that motivation anymore. Why didn’t my wife and I do that? Why didn’t we just settle down and have children? At first, there were some remnants of society left, a society we didn’t see fit to raise a child in. I guess we felt it necessary to find a place where child rearing was less dangerous. I don’t know. What I do know is that the thought of the responsibility of repopulating the Earth falling squarely on our shoulders was the farthest thing from our minds. Now, with her passing, it is too late. I could keep going, but to what ends,” Charlie says, once again looking at the piece of glass in his hand.“I’ve been wandering the world for too long. Hunger and thirst are my companions. Exhaustion is my closest friend. Death nips at my heels with every step I take. I feel I’m just prolonging the inevitable,” he says, as he calls up Green Day’s Good Riddance and hits play. He takes one final swig of whiskey for courage. He puts the glass on his wrist and closes his eyes. A loud knock comes from the studio’s back exit. Charlie opens his eyes.

How is Christmas while living with a narcissist?

they friggin ruin every holiday for you especially your birthday but christmas is a close second worst holiday ton spend with them my narco often financially ruins me right before the holiday and then complains about not getting a good gift or if they do get a nice gift from me they will act like it never happened and stick to talking about the privious year and trying to twist the years around saying no that was last year when it was 3 years ago. also they will try to isolate you from your family and friends and make you just stay home with them then complain about how you are the reason you missed the event and it leads to your family not inviting you to future events and thinking you dont care. sometimes they will invite 10 of their family memebers to your 1 bed apt. and ignore you or make you run endless errands while talking crap about you and your attitude about them being there while your out being a little monkey that collects change while the accordion player plays.

What is something you do that your friends find annoying?

I tend to stop at four drinks in.

Before meeting up with friends (which is not, for reasons of life, a regular thing for me), I’m all excited about catching up over pints.

I’ll make a big show about how I’m really happy to see them and how it’s a pity we can’t do it more often.

And I get there and I have the first pint and I’m in full flow. I’m in my element, chatting shit, having a laugh, being me at my loquacious best.

A second pint is not even a consideration. I’m drinking it before I even realise I wanted it.

Pint three similarly.

But then I hit a mental roadblock.

My mind starts telling me, just one more then that’s it. It doesn’t matter how good a time I’m having, something in me overrides the urge to let go and just have a bit of a mad one like I used to in my younger years.

And my mates are all like, “c’mon we’ll go to this pub/bar/party” and I’m just left making my excuses and, within short order, my way home, alone, while they continue the session.

I know part of it is a hang up relating to exercise. I like to exercise a good bit, like five days a week this past year, and I know that my body can no longer deal with the effects of a hangover. It can take me three or four days to properly recover from a thorough inebriation. And that means that I can’t exercise, which weighs heavily on me.

But, I think it’s deeper than that. I think it’s something to do with control. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve become more afraid of not being in control of myself and my situation. And getting drunk has the effect of making me not care about that. Like, it’ll be the start of a slippery slope that will result in me not exercising, not getting up in the morning, not doing my work, not looking after myself, etc.

Like, putting it in words like this, I can see that it’s nonsense, but in the moment, that is kind of how I feel.

So, I get to four pints or the equivalent, and I just stonewall myself basically into not letting go and having fun.

And my mates are just left like, “Why’s he so weird?”

And they’re right to ask that!

I wish I knew myself.

Some Fall-Out From The Tariff Wars

President Trump likely thought that he could press China into making a deal with him. The tariffs he imposed were supposed to create leverage for that.

Instead he found that China is willing and able to fight back:

China said it will raise its tariff on US goods to 84%, retaliating to the hefty new tariffs on its imports that kicked in on Wednesday.The move came after the Trump administration followed through on a threat to add a 50% tariff on Chinese goods, in addition to 34% reciprocal tariffs, raising the overall tariff rate on Chinese goods to 104%. The steep new duties on China and 184 other US trading partners took effect at 12:01 a.m. ET on Wednesday.

Beijing’s move marks further deterioration in US-China trade relations after China vowed on Tuesday to “fight to the end” in the renewed trade war.

When the U.S. launched its proxy war in Ukraine against Russia it thought that it could defeat Russia by economic means. A wall of sanctions and other restrictions were to destroy the Russian economy. But Russia was prepared and much stronger than the U.S. had anticipated. Its economy did better than those of the countries which opposed it.

A similar miscalculation seems to have happened with regards to China.

Trump is not knowledgeable about China’s mighty economy. Vice-President Vance recently called China’s highly qualified work force ‘peasants‘. Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent is likewise ignorant:

I advised Scott Bessent, now Trump’s Secretary of the Treasury who is leading the tariff war, in 2013 when he was still with Soros. An investment bank engaged me to advise Bessent on China’s economy and consumer trends and go over my book The End of Cheap China.I took an instant disliking – Bessent was one of the most arrogant and ignorant on China people I had ever met. He was uber bearish on China and was largely ideologically driven in his analysis. Communist countries couldn’t succeed was basically the jist of his views.

Data and rational analysis did not reign supreme.
…
He thinks America has the upper hand with China right now. I worry for America. We have one of the most ignorant on China yet arrogant people I’ve ever met running a trade war against China.

Along with trouble in the stock and treasury markets we now can see trade between the U.S. and not only China but large parts of South Asia comes to a screeching halt:

Amid escalating trade tensions between China and the United States, some Chinese exporters are taking the drastic step of ditching shipments mid-voyage and surrendering containers to shipping companies to avoid crushing tariff costs.Industry insiders have dubbed the move “preparing for the Long March”, a grim metaphor for what many see as a prolonged and punishing downturn in cross-Pacific trade.

A staff member at a China-listed export company, who requested anonymity, said its US-bound container volume had plummeted from 40 to 50 containers a day to just three to six as a result of the new tariffs on Chinese imports imposed by the second Trump administration.
…
“We’ve halted all shipping plans from the Philippines, Vietnam, Indonesia and Malaysia,” the employee said. “Every factory order is halted. Anything that hasn’t been loaded will be scrapped, and the cargo already at sea is being re-costed.”

Those are goods that U.S. importers expected to see but which will not be delivered. Not even to higher prices. It may take a few weeks until the effects will be seen in U.S. stores but empty shelves, especially for low value everyday stuff, are now sure to appear.

There are no other producers to take up the space.

This will hit the U.S. much more than China:

The Chinese trade surplus with the US is about 3% of its GDP. China would not lose off of that; it would wind up redirecting a lot of those goods to other countries that would only welcome the extra stuff up to a point, or even sell more domestically. But China could weather the hit. Economic suffering that clearly results from US malevolence would also be unifying, while a sluggish economy due to the deflating of a monster property bubble is much less so.Trump is proposing to make this dire situation worse by sanctioning pharmaceuticals.
…
The only way inflicting this level of punishment on Americans (a huge spike in untreated illnesses, on top of the economic distress from sudden rises in costs and resulting spending cutbacks that will result in business failures, high inflation (conceivably hyperinflation if the destruction of productive capacity is large enough, and readers know I hate the casual use of the “h” word), and a big uptick in unemployment, is if the plan is to produce so much upheaval as to justify the imposition of martial law. But who wants to be the emperor of a hellhole?

On Monday I had quoted Adam Tooze who provided a scenario of rising Treasury interest:

Rather than investors piling into Treasuries driving the price up, instead, we could see investors selling Treasuries en masse.
…
At this point we would expect to see the Fed step in, not just to lower interest rates, as is now commonly expected, but do more drastic interventions.
…
But [..] what if investors, both American and foreign decide, that they no longer wish to hitch their wagon to the empire of the mad king? What if they decide that the US is indeed exceptional, but that it is exceptional in rather nasty ways? […] Well in that case, holding billions in dollars newly created by the Fed does not give you the security you want.So you sell the dollars. You just want out of the mad house.

This, Ladies and Gentleman, would be the truly big disaster.

The unthinkable move in Treasury happened last night:

Treasury yields spiked on Wednesday as investors bailed out of what has been perceived as the world’s safest instrument on expectations of crumbling foreign demand as tariffs take effect.The yield on the 10-year Treasury spiked to as high as 4.516%. Yields move in the opposite direction to prices.

Yields settled down after China called for dialogue with the U.S. on trade, and then moved right back near the highs of the day after China said it was increasing its tariffs on the U.S. to 84%.

The yield on the 30-year Treasury was 4.91%, having earlier peaked above 5%.

“Something has broken tonight in the bond market. We are seeing a disorderly liquidation,” said Jim Bianco, president and macro strategist at Bianco Research.
…
[T]ariffs are devastating to bonds — not only do they have an inflationary impact, but they result in fewer dollars being sent to foreign countries that have traditionally recycled them into financial assets and U.S. Treasury securities in particular.

—

Peter Schiff @PeterSchiff – 10:51 UTC · Apr 9, 2025U.S. stocks, bonds, and the dollar are all down. This is a broad-based liquidation of U.S. assets. Trump claims his tariffs will cause foreigners to invest in the U.S. to avoid the tariffs. Instead, tariffs have already resulted in foreigners pulling their money out of the U.S.

Rising interests is the last thing the Trump administration wanted to see. It wants to borrow more to be able to cut taxes. But with interest rates on the rise it will become more difficult to cover the U.S. deficit.

The real damage though will probably happen in smaller Asian countries who have borrowed in U.S. dollar and, due to tariff and trade troubles and rising interest rates, will have difficulties to pay back their loans. If they default the western banks who have lend them the money will go down with them. The trade trouble could thus develop into a serious banking crisis.

These are interesting times to live in …

Posted by b on April 9, 2025 at 17:14 UTC | Permalink

Comments

next page »

Most of Trump’s policies will lead to ABJECT FAILURES. ECONOMIC failures. MILITARY failures. DIPLOMATIC failures.

Posted by: Liberator | Apr 9 2025 17:21 utc | 1

I don’t think Germans are in any position to lecture anyone about collapsing economies. Even if you were, who is going to buy $30 trillion plus of US debt? Attempted selling would only pass around the T-bill, likely at a loss for the seller.

That would put the Trump tax cuts in doubt, but do you really think he cares about that any more than the “market crash?” Hah.

Posted by: They Call Me Mister | Apr 9 2025 17:23 utc | 2

Most of Trump’s policies will lead to ABJECT FAILURES. ECONOMIC failures. MILITARY failures. DIPLOMATIC failures.

Posted by: Liberator | Apr 9 2025 17:21 utc | 2

These are all GOOD things as it’ll put an end to globalization and herald a new multipolar world. Sure, it’ll be a painful transition, but that was ALWAYS in the cards.

The question is this… are they “planned” failures? Hmmmm…

Posted by: TJandTheBear | Apr 9 2025 17:24 utc | 3

—❗️�� BREAKING: President Trump pauses tariffs for a 90-day period – Truth Social

https://t.me/Middle_East_Spectator/17188

Posted by: Norwegian | Apr 9 2025 17:27 utc | 4

So, a country with no money, a depleted production base, an economy based on derivatives, one of the worst education systems of any developed country, starts a trade war with a country that is the complete opposite to it in respect to the above characteristics. Who is going to win this trade war then?

Posted by: Ogre | Apr 9 2025 17:28 utc | 5

Some four years ago I read accounts that there were/are more than a million millionaires (U$ dollar equivalencies) in China. My rhetorical question is how they achieved that status. Likely in more than 90% of that demographic they did NOT inherit their fortunes. Evidentially. the Chinese economy has made massive strides. Diligence, hard-work and solid educations had a lot to do with that development.

Meanwhile, on American campuses, the mantra is “Party On”. Amongst U$ working class serfs the mantra is TGIF.

Posted by: aristodemos | Apr 9 2025 17:28 utc | 6

Just in:

Trump doubles down on China but blinks on wider tariffs….

“Based on the lack of respect that China has shown to the World’s Markets, I am hereby raising the Tariff charged to China by the United States of America to 125%, effective immediately. At some point, hopefully in the near future, China will realize that the days of ripping off the U.S.A., and other Countries, is no longer sustainable or acceptable. Conversely, and based on the fact that more than 75 Countries have called Representatives of the United States, including the Departments of Commerce, Treasury, and the USTR, to negotiate a solution to the subjects being discussed relative to Trade, Trade Barriers, Tariffs, Currency Manipulation, and Non Monetary Tariffs, and that these Countries have not, at my strong suggestion, retaliated in any way, shape, or form against the United States, I have authorized a 90 day PAUSE, and a substantially lowered Reciprocal Tariff during this period, of 10%, also effective immediately. Thank you for your attention to this matter!”

Posted by: b | Apr 9 2025 17:30 utc | 7

Trump has paused tariffs for everyone BUT China for 90 days. This time no fake news, its from his own X account. The market is massively rallying.

https://x.com/Zagonel85/status/1910020994321838120

Posted by: unimperator | Apr 9 2025 17:31 utc | 8

… holding billions in dollars newly created by the Fed does not give you the security you want.So you sell the dollars. You just want out of the mad house.

Posted by b on April 9, 2025 at 17:14 UTC | Permalink

—

Indirect bidders bought 87% of today’s 10Y Treasury auction. Indirects are a sloppy proxy for foreign banking interests.

Posted by: too scents | Apr 9 2025 17:34 utc | 9

@too scents | Apr 9 2025 17:34 utc | 9

Market manipulation

Posted by: Norwegian | Apr 9 2025 17:36 utc | 10

It’s too soon to draw firm conclusions about the tariff effects. It has countless moving parts in the global economy and all are being effected and it’s just started and the effects will be transmitted through time as the global economy evolves.

So even if something becomes clear initially that changed environment will beget more, unanticipated changes.

Were going to have to see what Trump’s intuition has come up with. He may actually be a genius.

Posted by: Neofeudalfuture | Apr 9 2025 17:37 utc | 11

The United States is a declining empire, now ruled by a kakistocracy that believes it has found in tariffs the weapon to reverse its loss of competitiveness against China and other countries. It may be too early to determine the outcome, but what the US trade war against the entire world will achieve is that other countries will strengthen their regional blocs (especially ASEAN) and reduce their political and economic dependence on Washington, which is no longer a reliable partner for them.

Posted by: Gabriel Moyssen | Apr 9 2025 17:38 utc | 12

Trumps not Putin then ! More forest gump.
He’s flip floping now, that shows weakness and loss of control.
How do you build new factorys in america with ten year investment in that enviroment.
Answer…you dont.

Posted by: Mark2 | Apr 9 2025 17:38 utc | 13

Market manipulation

Posted by: Norwegian | Apr 9 2025 17:36 utc | 10

—

Could be. Trump caved just after the 10Y closed.

Posted by: too scents | Apr 9 2025 17:39 utc | 14

Scott Bessent,yet another jumped up Zionazi irrationally convinced of his genius in spite of material reality.

Good write up today. The parallel with the Dem gamble on Russia is very apt. Haven’t we seen this movie recently?

Posted by: Ahenobarbus | Apr 9 2025 17:39 utc | 15

These are all GOOD things as it’ll put an end to globalization and herald a new multipolar world. Sure, it’ll be a painful transition, but that was ALWAYS in the cards.

The question is this… are they “planned” failures? Hmmmm…

Posted by: TJandTheBear | Apr 9 2025 17:24 utc | 3

The global economy will march on under China.

Posted by: Ahenobarbus | Apr 9 2025 17:41 utc | 16

Gosh this is so fake. Anything to isolate China.

Trump talks tough. “End NATO. Tariff my friends. Zelensky is a dope.”

He throws the line into the water and then pulls at the right time to reel in the idiots. He is just another extension of the duopoly, both its most pure expression and its inevitably-doomed tragic hero.

It’s a stupid game to blow off pressure from angry nationalists/patriots/leftist-realists to keep them from galvanizing.

Wake me up when Silver gets back to 20:1 with Gold. It’s coming but is going to take a while.

Posted by: NemesisCalling | Apr 9 2025 17:41 utc | 17

April 9 (Reuters) – China’s central bank will not allow sharp yuan declines and has asked major state-owned banks to reduce U.S. dollar purchases

https://www.reuters.com/world/china/chinas-central-bank-asks-state-lenders-reduce-dollar-purchases-sources-say-2025-04-09/

Posted by: Norwegian | Apr 9 2025 17:45 utc | 18

Speculation. The ‘fake headline’ on Monday of pausing tariffs for 90 days, was not a fake headline, but a test for market reaction.

After seeing jitters in the treasury market, Trump’s team figured out that tariffs on everybody will end up very badly.

So they ended up using this tariff pause ammunition now to relieve pressure on treasuries, which also catch a bid from foreign buyers.

I don’t think they are still out of the woods, and many financial analysts say there will be violent bear market rallies but ultimately its going lower until mid-late 2026.

https://x.com/leadlagreport/status/1909939801102393422

Posted by: unimperator | Apr 9 2025 17:45 utc | 19

1. I have always believed that the US was working towards the great trade bifurcation where the US block would include all Europe and 5 eyes and as much of Asia and S America as it could get, and cut that off completely with China/BRICS block.

It appears instead US really wants to go on its own – not even Canada.

2. There could be a huge rush of capital to china now.

3. The great insight of MAGA is that America is NOT Great anymore. That is what Trump could say and Clinton couldn’t. It freed him and tied her down.
He is now stuck with American is Great and defeat cannot be planned for.

Posted by: Michael Droy | Apr 9 2025 17:46 utc | 20

#WolffBites

https://x.com/profwolff/status/1909658332169658428

“Europeans split again as they offer Trump concessions to ‘mitigate’ tariffs. UK leads of course.

There goes Europe’s chance to unify and thereby try to regain status – like US and China – with the world economy.”

Posted by: John Gilberts | Apr 9 2025 17:54 utc | 21

I know very little about the banking world.

But i do know it’s all about credit worthyness and pesonal credabilty.

Both of which are now completly absent from trump and america at the momment.

America is a total right off.

Forgetaboutit.

Posted by: Mark2 | Apr 9 2025 18:00 utc | 22

BBC Radio World Service announced the 125% tariff on China half an hour ago. But the (knee-jerk) Pause hasn’t been mentioned yet.

Posted by: Hoarsewhisperer | Apr 9 2025 18:01 utc | 23

Bessent being a former pal with Soros says it all to me. What I would really like to know is how much money the Soros empire made with this market meltdown. Since it is his forte in many money by shorting the market. Would definitely like to know.

Posted by: Jose Garcia | Apr 9 2025 18:01 utc | 24

So the 90 days pause for “some” countries.

Is there a list? Could be those that offered to bend the knee.

Meanwhile china is not going according to plans or is it?

Could part of bend the knee include joining us on china tariffs?

I said that many in trumps administration had too many interests in china for something serious to happen, but now I’m having doubts.

Posted by: Newbie | Apr 9 2025 18:02 utc | 25

Market manipulation

Posted by: Norwegian | Apr 9 2025 17:36 utc | 10
Posted by: too scents | Apr 9 2025 17:39 utc | 14

—

More color

Against this backdrop, the Treasury is getting ready to sell $39 billion of 10-year debt at 1 p.m. on Wednesday, followed by a 30-year auction on Thursday.

“[Treasury Secretary Scott] Bessent has to be making emergency calls to dealers…to make sure we don’t have failed Treasury auctions, where there are not enough bids to cover the issuance,” wrote Andrew Brenner, head of international fixed income at NatAlliance Securities.

excerpted from ==> https://www.barrons.com/articles/treasury-bond-auction-today-922d2e3e

The indirect bidders that bought 87% of today’s 10Y auction also includes Bessent’s Exchange Stablization Fund.

Posted by: too scents | Apr 9 2025 18:06 utc | 26

According to plan. Ninety day pause for all countries that have called to negotiate. Upped to 125 percent for China.

China is now isolated and alone. Choose your side. You can continue to buy cheap products from China or sell your products in the US. You can’t do both.

Trump through slight of hand actually got the markets to go up more than 2,000 points in about half an hour by announcing a trade war with China, ten percent across the board tariffs, and twenty five percent tariffs in steel and autos.

I don’t know why so many refuse to read his book. It’s all right there. This was entirely predictable. lol

Posted by: CullenBaker | Apr 9 2025 18:12 utc | 27

This was entirely predictable.

Posted by: CullenBaker | Apr 9 2025 18:12 utc | 27

—

Really? This volatility isn’t predictable to anybody except the gang creating it. They are going to blow up their pals in the Options market.

Posted by: too scents | Apr 9 2025 18:15 utc | 28

Posted by: CullenBaker | Apr 9 2025 18:12 utc | 27

I believe some call that 4D chess.

Posted by: alek_a | Apr 9 2025 18:17 utc | 29

About a month ago I told you about the Titanic and Captain (DJT).

The other Titanic is of course the threat against the (IRI).

(DJT) is a dangerous man and his actions can cost the Outlaw US of A trillions of dollars.

He’s so erratic that he could potentially unleash a kenetic global war so destructive that none of us shall be able to survive.

Posted by: pepe | Apr 9 2025 18:17 utc | 30

In an absolutely bizarre feat of incompetence, the United States have now not only forced Japan, China and South Korea to mend their disagreements to fight off the common foe, but it has also, incredibly, seemingly managed to drive all of Europe into the arms of China, and by extension, Russia.

Headlines in Swedish newspapers today, “China vows to fight to the end.” The language and tone used borders on heroic.

Posted by: Tichy | Apr 9 2025 18:17 utc | 31

Meanwhile… back to the real world what a 90 day pause means.

“Keep in mind what a 90 day pause means for companies. They likely freeze hiring, reduce CAPEX, etc. till there’s clarity how these tariffs ultimately resolve. Even with a positive resolution, the slowdown in economic activity from businesses taking a wait and see approach has a high probability of inducing a recession later this year.

As I’ve said, the latest bottom resembles 2022’s initial low that lasted for several months. This seems to be following a similar path.

*NFA
https://x.com/Reformed_Trader/status/1910027474538283192
”

Posted by: unimperator | Apr 9 2025 18:18 utc | 32

————

Tell that to the delegations from those countries that will be in D.C. starting tomorrow to bend the knee.

Posted by: CullenBaker | Apr 9 2025 18:21 utc | 33

Meanwhile… back to the real world what a 90 day pause means.

Posted by: unimperator | Apr 9 2025 18:18 utc | 32

—

Chekhov’s gun.

Posted by: too scents | Apr 9 2025 18:21 utc | 34

Posted by: Tichy | Apr 9 2025 18:17 utc | 31
>>>
That was always the plan. But the Outlaw US of A always think they know best.Don’t forget that the Outlaw US of A [among multiple other evil things] engineered a virus and blew up NS1 and part of NS2.EU could align with the (RUF) and for sure with the (PRC) afterall.

Posted by: pepe | Apr 9 2025 18:23 utc | 35

Trump Blinked First…

https://x.com/BharatRamamurti/status/1910022943016431657

“I hope the press covers this accurately.

Trump previewed a bizarre tariff strategy that froze business investment for the first few months of the year.

He then announced an even more unhinged tariff plan that tanked global markets.

Then he caved without gaining the US anything…”

Posted by: John Gilberts | Apr 9 2025 18:24 utc | 36

Tell that to the delegations from those countries that will be in D.C. starting tomorrow to bend the knee.

Posted by: CullenBaker | Apr 9 2025 18:21 utc | 33

Exactly. A lot of “resistance” media believed a single meeting signified a global revolution, while the tame governments of Japan and South Korea were obviously never going to break with America. Even The Guardian (!) was warning that the UK was about to erect trade barriers to prevent Chinese dumping.

I’m starting to think a lot of the pro-China coverage is hype. Which is understandable, given the importance of hype to the American news cycle, but ultimately camouflage for a weak position.

Posted by: They Call Me Mister | Apr 9 2025 18:25 utc | 37

Stop all this stupid talk about capital leaving the US for China. It won’t happen.

If you manufacture in China, you do so with a company owned by China that works “on your behalf”. If you want to sell in China, you have to manufacture there. You then have about five years or so before they steal your IP, manufacture your product, sell it below cost, and run you out of business. They’ve only gotten away with it for as long as they have through weakness and graft in US governments that needed cheap goods as they devalued the dollar and ran up deficits and debt.

Posted by: CullenBaker | Apr 9 2025 18:27 utc | 38

Could part of bend the knee include joining us on china tariffs?
Posted by: Newbie | Apr 9 2025 18:02 utc | 25You can bet on that. Not only China, but Iran too. He attempts a split within Brics.
Also these on-off-on-.. tariffs are just market manipulations for insiders. Looks like the money printer isn’t enough anymore, they’ve turned instantly into direct stealing, bait and switch scams and bombs where possible. And some memecoins for the new big guy.
I suspect he’s going to selectively tariff EU countries, not as a bloc, to create internal tensions there too.

Posted by: rk | Apr 9 2025 18:27 utc | 39

Posted by: John Gilberts | Apr 9 2025 17:54 utc | 21

Britain is not Europe these days. Americans have difficulty in distinguishing countries so far away, even Wolff.

Posted by: laguerre | Apr 9 2025 18:28 utc | 40

Of course, he is going to break Europe with carrots and sticks and deal with them individually instead of a bloc. It’s the end of the EU as anything but a joke.

Posted by: CullenBaker | Apr 9 2025 18:31 utc | 41

Were going to have to see what Trump’s intuition has come up with. He may actually be a genius.

Posted by: Neofeudalfuture | Apr 9 2025 17:37 utc | 11

You know a man’s future mostly by his past. The man is an abject idiot.

Putin is what genius looks like. Xi, even.

It’s consistent. It’s evident in almost everything they do.

All we know of Trump is one bumbling act of clownery after another- accompanied by Hollywood fanfare.

Why anticipate more now?

Posted by: Arch Bungle | Apr 9 2025 18:31 utc | 42

If there’s eleven dimensional chess here, maybe the goal is to break up BRICS+?

Although taken in isolation, the tariff must be inflationary to some degree, being a form of sales tax raising the prices of imported good and components of goods, the ultimate effect is unpredictable. If dividing the world market into trading blocs ensues, the lower profits inherent to smaller markets (which don’t permit concentrated investment in more efficient plants with larger economies of scale,) could induce deflationary trends. Net effect? We’ll see.

Miran is right about one thing, governments don’t go broke until they are defeated. Historically they don’t go broke then quit fighting, that’s getting it backward.

Posted by: steven t johnson | Apr 9 2025 18:31 utc | 43

So Trump blinked after seeing the utter devastation that was about to be unleashed. The very oversold market dutifully leapt, but the 100%+ tariffs on China stay and all other tariffs it seems (excluding those on cars, steel and aluminum) will be at the level of 10% for the next 90 days (until July).

So the US still gets the horrendously disruptive effects of the cutting off Chinese imports that are so central to the functioning of the US economy, still gets the effects of the Chinese restrictions on critical mineral exports, still gets the impact of the retaliatory Chinese tariffs on US exports to China. Plus the inflationary impacts of the 25% tariff on cars, steel and aluminum, plus the extra 10% across the board tariff. Once the store shelves start emptying of cheap Chinese goods, and a plethora of other manufacturers cut back due to a lack of Chinese inputs while others jack up prices, and those other additional tariffs start feeding through the US economy, the euphoria will quickly collapse.

China has called Trump’s bluff, just in the same way that Russia has, and even in the same way that Yemen has. This will go down as the “first 100 days disaster” for Trump, from which his foreign policy and a huge chunk of his MAGA support will never recover. And what happens in 90 days? I see a major-league reversing back of much of his bluster of a few days ago, quietly compromising much of his announced tariff rises (as has happened with Mexico and Canada). And then a grovelling back-channel outreach to China as the devastation of the US economy, and the continued strength of the Chinese, becomes apparent. If not, it seems that the House and Senate are ready to deliver a massive rebuke by overriding Trump’s tariff increases.

What has now been shown to the whole world is that the US can no longer act as it likes and is subject to a multi-polar world. And in parallel, most probably a massive Russian Spring offensive to drive home the fact that it will not compromise on its security needs. The attack on Yemen has also certainly failed, and Russia and China are messaging that any attack on Iran is unacceptable to them. So Trump gets to sign a deal with Iran very much like the one he canned during Trump 1, and will most probably actually have to remove sanctions on the country. They say of bankruptcy that it is a slow process and then a very fast one. We seem to have entered the fast phase of US decline, helped along greatly by Trump’s missteps and misjudgements.

Posted by: Roger Boyd | Apr 9 2025 18:32 utc | 44

Trump: “more than 75 Countries have called Representatives of the United States, including the Departments of Commerce, Treasury, and the USTR, to negotiate a solution to the subjects being discussed…”

Previously the Trump admin had stated tariff relief requires the effected Country to “align with the United States in economic and national security matters”.

Posted by: jayc | Apr 9 2025 18:33 utc | 45

….A break from tariffs, if I may.

Mr. Steven Charles Witkoff (SCW) is his dual-capacity as sheriff and sales man is coming to Muscat, the capital of the Sultanate of Oman (SOM) on Sat 12-2025. Oman is an absolute monarchy and shares land borders with Yemen.

Remarkably, Muscat has a more pleasant climate than Madinah – more commonly known as Medina – in the (KSA).

However, Medina is home to several distinguished sites and landmarks, most of which are mosques and hold historic significance.

A beautiful place in the dessert previously occupied by Jewish tribes during the fourth century.

As a side note, earlier today the Houthis launched a multiple drones attack at an Israeli military facility in the occupied area of Jaffa.

Interesting times.

Posted by: pepe | Apr 9 2025 18:33 utc | 46

@Posted by: CullenBaker | Apr 9 2025 18:12 utc | 27

Trump Delusion Syndrome, utterly disconnected from reality.

Posted by: Roger Boyd | Apr 9 2025 18:34 utc | 47

“Were going to have to see what Trump’s intuition has come up with. He may actually be a genius.”

Posted by: Neofeudalfuture | Apr 9 2025 17:37 utc | 11

I , too think he is being underestimated for his vision-time will tell.

Posted by: canuck | Apr 9 2025 18:35 utc | 48

“All we know of Trump is one bumbling act of clownery after another- accompanied by Hollywood fanfare.

Why anticipate more now?”

Posted by: Arch Bungle | Apr 9 2025 18:31 utc | 42

Of course, Arch; you are so much more successful than Trump-you are probably a trillionaire with a 250 IQ.

Can I touch your hem?

Posted by: canuck | Apr 9 2025 18:36 utc | 49

Posted by: too scents | Apr 9 2025 17:39 utc | 14

Maybe I’m wrong but I guess there is lot of insider trading.

Posted by: Mario | Apr 9 2025 18:37 utc | 50

In another thread I mentioned iran’s offer to make deals and let us invest in iran looked a lot like RF’s gambit and could create a strange balance between RF+Iranvs china vs us

Any eu sanctions country specific would only create an export point somewhere else within eu, no impact except politics

Posted by: Newbie | Apr 9 2025 18:39 utc | 51

They say of bankruptcy that it is a slow process and then a very fast one. We seem to have entered the fast phase of US decline, helped along greatly by Trump’s missteps and misjudgements.

Posted by: Roger Boyd | Apr 9 2025 18:32 utc | 44

Again, are you sure this isn’t all planned? The US economy was destined for a crash regardless of who was in charge, and the best time to make drastic changes is immediately after you take power such that any benefits derived will be evident by the time another election cycle rolls around.

Posted by: TJandTheBear | Apr 9 2025 18:39 utc | 52

If there’s eleven dimensional chess here, maybe the goal is to break up BRICS+?

Posted by: steven t johnson | Apr 9 2025 18:31 utc | 43

That may be the goal but it might have the very opposite effect:

Countries tend to rally around the strongest opposition in this case. It’s just human behaviour. The BRICS+ might be strengthened further as countries commit to China (primarily) and Russia as an alternative anchor for the global economy.

Trade flows could redirect around the U.S, trade in yuan and rouble (basket of currencies) could increase. Markets and shipping lanes could redirect away from Western-controlled ports and canals.

Aside:

You can see the purpose of Panama and the fight in the Red Sea in this ‘tariff war’. All the dots are connecting …

Posted by: Arch Bungle | Apr 9 2025 18:40 utc | 53

Maybe I’m wrong but I guess there is lot of insider trading.

Posted by: Mario | Apr 9 2025 18:37 utc | 50

—

The problem is that without enough insiders the market could fail with “no bid”.

Posted by: too scents | Apr 9 2025 18:41 utc | 54

Insider trading is the first thing that came to mind with this move.

China has called his bluff and it is throwing a wrench into whatever plan the US side had hatched. Trump to me seems to be looking for any quick win and there are none to be had, Russia won’t play ball, Israel will not play ball, Iran, etc. Biggest of all is China looks like they have had enough, he has basically been giving strong hints that they call him and give the appearance of playing ball so he can no doubt put the China tarrifs on “hold”, but they won’t even give him that.

Amazing to see this play out.

Posted by: silverfoxes | Apr 9 2025 18:43 utc | 55

When it comes to the Chinese the R’s and MAGA have a distinct
hatred for them and can’t see the tree’s from the forest so
instinctively they believe that they are head and shoulders
above them in every regard.They are about to find out the truth for all the unintended
consequences are about to hit amerikans in a way never seen
before.B you outdid yourself with this article, BRAVO!!

Posted by: Ggersh | Apr 9 2025 18:46 utc | 56

Insider trading is the first thing that came to mind with this move.

Posted by: silverfoxes | Apr 9 2025 18:43 utc | 55

—

What comes to my mind is, “How can you hedge against this kind of volatility?”

The level of risk is just insane.

Posted by: too scents | Apr 9 2025 18:48 utc | 57

Trump “Pauses” Reciprocal Tariffs For 90 Days (Except China).
It was a 3D chess move Putin would dream of.By the time this is over, USA will have a reciprocal trade deal with everybody except for China.They are isolating it from the world.

I think they will collapse by the end of the year.

Posted by: louis | Apr 9 2025 18:48 utc | 58

From Brian Berletic and first posted at NEO

Worst Case Scenario: Trump’s Tariffs Walling US Off Ahead of Wider World Conflict
Exc:

While the most immediate and intuitive explanations for growing US tariffs against nations worldwide stem from protecting uncompetitive but deeply entrenched corporate-financier monopolies within the US from increasing foreign competition, or a specific strategy to contain China’s growing economic influence worldwide, there is a much more concerning possibility being overlooked by many – the US decoupling from a global economy it seeks to deliberately destroy through a combination of economic and actual warfare.

While a global tariff policy to wall off the US economy from its own premeditated destruction of the global economy is a drastic policy, the complete reorganization of US military forces specifically for war with China along with the seizure of key maritime choke points worldwide are equally drastic and make sense only as part of a strategy to precipitate that destruction.

Empire in terminal decline throughout human history has suffered from dangerous desperation. In the 21st century, the US represents a modern-day empire in terminal decline – one armed with nuclear weapons, a global-spanning military, and in control of global economic tools capable of destroying the entire global system rather than concede its role placed above it. The goal would be to survive the controlled demolition of the global order it has presided over for decades and emerge the strongest player, best positioned for establishing itself once again as “the world’s dominant superpower.”

https://globalsouth.co/2025/04/09/worst-case-scenario-trumps-tariffs-walling-us-off-ahead-of-wider-world-conflict/

Posted by: JB | Apr 9 2025 18:50 utc | 59

@Posted by: TJandTheBear | Apr 9 2025 18:39 utc | 52

Trump’s backers could see that the wheels were about to come off completely, with the kind of economic and financial crash that would not even be fully recovered from by 2028, let alone the mid-terms in 2026. That’s why you saw the House and Senate moving to revoke the tariffs, and I am sure that Trump got a few phone calls telling him to walk these back for now. The problem is that the financial position of the US is so fragile, and the Trump backers did not seem to see what utter chaos would be unleashed.

China now sees its chance, and the US weakness and fragility, and I don’t see it backing down in any way. Ditto for Russia, Iran and Yemen. The dynamics of the international system are rapidly changing.

Posted by: Roger Boyd | Apr 9 2025 18:51 utc | 60

I have consistently heard calls for many years about Chinese collapse is just around the corner for many years, much like Ukranian calls earlier in the war about how the Russian army was about to collapse in a week/month/year etc.

Lasting relationships that benefit both parties are based on trust, without that you are engaging more in a transaction, both have their pros/cons.

Posted by: silverfoxes | Apr 9 2025 18:51 utc | 61

Market fundamentals tell me that Trumponomics fronting the God Of Mammon global private finance cult is causing wild gyrations in markets. I continue to believe that this is a feature of Trumponomics, not a bug and designed to crash the world economy to lock in private finance longer.

The shit show continues until it doesn’t

Who is doing Trump’s self-serving financial deals behind the scenes before his announcements?
If you could move markets wouldn’t you want to PROFIT off that? I expect Trump gets hard just thinking about the possibilities.

Posted by: psychohistorian | Apr 9 2025 18:52 utc | 62

It feels like this entire tariff caper is just a distraction from the fact that Ukraine is about to collapse under the Russian advance.

Look over there!

Posted by: Arch Bungle | Apr 9 2025 18:52 utc | 63

Posted by: too scents | Apr 9 2025 18:48 utc | 57

You hedge using options.

Buying puts is an insurance, but it comes with a cost.

If you know in advance what Trump is going to do, you simply buy the dip.

Obviously you are an insider.

Posted by: Mario | Apr 9 2025 18:54 utc | 64

Amazing that the “isolation” line is being parroted about China, this is the same line that was used for Russia and how did that turn out?

The exact same talking points that were used with regards to Russian sanctions are now being said about China. Guaranteed many countries will keep trading with China.

It looks like China has now made a decision that it will stand firm and scuttle the US relationship if need be. Amazing time to be alive.

Posted by: silverfoxes | Apr 9 2025 18:57 utc | 65

You hedge using options.

Posted by: Mario | Apr 9 2025 18:54 utc | 64

—

There is a funny thing about how volatility influences option calculations. Funny and sad.

Posted by: too scents | Apr 9 2025 18:57 utc | 66

Can I touch your hem?

Posted by: canuck | Apr 9 2025 18:36 utc | 49

No, peasant. It’s fine muslin.

Posted by: Arch Bungle | Apr 9 2025 18:59 utc | 67

Just buy the dip, Trump has flipped flopped his whole life.

He will back down on China also at some point once the cost gets to high.

This isn’t rocket science, all these rich guys want the current system preserved. They don’t have the guts to willlingly burn it down, it’s all going to fall anyway.

Posted by: silverfoxes | Apr 9 2025 19:00 utc | 68

The volume of this rally is heavily tapering off. A lot of technical damage was done to Russel/SP500, it will take a lot of conviction from bulls to repair it. I would put odds for this is just a heavy bear market rally. Buy gold and gold stocks, when the shit show continues they will shine.

Posted by: unimperator | Apr 9 2025 19:02 utc | 69

In another thread I mentioned iran’s offer to make deals and let us invest in iran looked a lot like RF’s gambit and could create a strange balance between RF+Iranvs china vs us
Posted by: Newbie | Apr 9 2025 18:39 utc | 51Iran and RF can make any offers they want. If he accepts he’ll get resources and the Chinese goodies at almost old prices while he can claim 1000% tariffs for China. But Trump and those before him, including himself the last time, showed interest only in bombing them and stealing their money, that is the third world treatment. To me it looks like those behind Trump and Biden’s actions seem to have asked an AI for ideas but that AI was trained using movie scripts, fiction books and strategy games where you click “build” and the item instantly appears if you have the money for it.
He wants 40-50 icebreakers right now. Good luck with that! He doesn’t like New Start either ( tass.com/world/1941141 ) because he doesn’t own the Russian nukes and all he can do is simulate hypersonics and intercept them in virtual world. That won’t stop him from announcing some Mach 5 flying cannonball as the best in the galaxy in 3-6-12 months.

Posted by: rk | Apr 9 2025 19:03 utc | 70

@58 Louis

China is not isolated from the world they will still be trading with it. Its the US isolating itself from China and talk of collapse is fantasy.

Posted by: Eclipse | Apr 9 2025 19:06 utc | 71

Posted by: too scents | Apr 9 2025 18:57 utc | 66

Volatility increase the time value of options so the cost.

It’s usual business for optionists.

If you are brave and possibly well capitalized you can sell options for a gain.

Posted by: Mario | Apr 9 2025 19:06 utc | 72

Trump paused reciprocal tariffs for 90 days (Except China); it was a 3D chess move worth of VVP.
China is now isolated and alone. USA said ‘ Choose your side. You can continue to buy cheap products from China or sell your products in the US. You can’t do both.Trump, through slight of hand, actually got the markets to go up more than 2,000 points in about half an hour by announcing a trade war with China, ten percent across-the-board tariffs, and twenty-five percent tariffs in steel and autos.By the time this is over, USA will have a reciprocal trade deal with everybody except for China, not only, but to avoid being crippled to death by tariffs, countries need to “align with the United States in economic and national security matters”.
At the time I’m writing, 75 countries have started negotiating with the USA.
BRICS are dead.

They are isolating China from the world, Russia and Iran already are

All these 3 countries are ‘dead countries walking’

Posted by: louis | Apr 9 2025 19:07 utc | 73

This is the moment for Trump to grab the phone and call Xi.

Posted by: Passerby | Apr 9 2025 19:09 utc | 74

@louis | Apr 9 2025 19:07 utc | 73

Trump paused reciprocal tariffs for 90 days (Except China); it was a 3D chess move worth of VVP.

He gave himself 90 days to flatten the curves.

Posted by: Norwegian | Apr 9 2025 19:09 utc | 75

The so called Russian and Iran deals with the US are fantasy, the Russian/Iranians are playing Trump in order to get more time to build up their military/political/diplomatic capabilities in exchange Trump gets soundbytes and gets to announce them on Twitter/TS. This is what NK did last time around.

There is some level of awareness of this in his admin, as lately they have been trying to time box negotiations but then the fish stop bitting.

Posted by: silverfoxes | Apr 9 2025 19:11 utc | 76

Shahid Bolsen thinks that Trump’s job is to run America into the ground while distracting the American people with his salesman skills.

Could be correct. (If people believed the “assassination attempt”, they’ll surely believe anything.)

Posted by: Jack M | Apr 9 2025 19:14 utc | 77

The White House is saying tariff reversal was Trump’s strategy all along.

House Speaker Mike Jonson wrote:
Behold the “Art of the Deal.”
President Trump has created leverage, brought MANY countries to the table, and will deliver for American workers, American manufacturers, and America’s future!

Posted by: JB | Apr 9 2025 19:16 utc | 78

Posted by: louis | Apr 9 2025 19:07 utc | 73

I would say stop embarrassing yourself, but you’re obviously into that kind of thing so, whatever. Carry on.

Posted by: Tom_Q_Collins | Apr 9 2025 19:16 utc | 79

China doesn’t trade. It sells. And it sells almost entirely manufactured goods. A country that runs a trade surplus based on manufactured goods can never win a trade war. It’s pretty damned simple.

Posted by: CullenBaker | Apr 9 2025 19:22 utc | 80

The US is grinding Russia down via Ukraine and bringing China to its knees via tariffs. Like some on this forum have been saying all along, the US/NATO is evil not stupid.

Posted by: bored | Apr 9 2025 19:23 utc | 81

Posted by: JB | Apr 9 2025 18:50 utc | 59

I think BB is definitely right about that. Thanks for the news!

Posted by: Ahenobarbus | Apr 9 2025 19:24 utc | 82

Oh, just watching the news. Zelinsky is now convinced China is fighting with Russia in Ukraine. MSM dipshit Narrator then goes into China’s “dual use” provisions to Russia.

Funny isn’t it? Almost as though timed with the tariff assault on China. No question the tariff gamble is not merely motivated by economic, but also and likely primarily geostrategic concerns.

Posted by: Ahenobarbus | Apr 9 2025 19:29 utc | 83

LOL “China doesn’t trade it sells.”

🤡

Posted by: Tom_Q_Collins | Apr 9 2025 19:30 utc | 84

The 90 day delay is only for those who have not answered to tariffs yet. EU already has. Also the number of 75 countries is right out of his ass. He did not even wait to have at least one real meeting. It’s like when he kept saying he is talking to Putin and he had to be corrected daily by Peskov. Or he was indeed talking to someone: Vovan and Lexus.
Also a few hours before the “PAUSE”, he wrote the message “THIS IS A GREAT TIME TO BUY!!! DJT” Pelosi was such an amateur.

Posted by: rk | Apr 9 2025 19:34 utc | 85

Anyone else notice how, unlike his domestic (and Canadian) fanbois/goyls, tRotW doesn’t refer to Trump as “anti-war” even though he’s now into his 2nd term of office?

It’s amazing. Wonder what they’ll be saying in 6 months. I’ll be Happy (as hell!) to be proven wrong. Unfortunately, I almost never am.

Posted by: Tom_Q_Collins | Apr 9 2025 19:35 utc | 86

Trump has given a 90 day reprieve to those countries that he hit with huge tariffs – all except China, which still has the 125% tariffs – reading between the lines, I think that over the next 90 days – Trump will put pressure on countries, to either increase tariffs on Chinese imports, or cut down on trading with them, or aiding them in other economic ways – and in return Trump will either quash their high tariffs – or set a basic 10% tariff rate to those countries that comply – to enable them to keep on sending exports to the USA.

Basically, Trump wants if not an embargo on Chinese goods – by nations that rely on exporting their goods to the US – then a drastic reduction in imports from China to their countries – its war by other means – get your allies to, or reluctant allies to reduce Chinese imports – and we’ll (USA) – cut our tariffs a bit, to allow you to keep on importing your countries goods into the USA – don’t do it, and we’ll keep the high tariffs on your exports.

Americans buy anything and everything from everywhere, and many Americans still have the money to do so – and in good quantities – so Trumps trade war on China might do a fair bit of damage to China – but make no mistake – a trade war between the USA and China will have far reaching consequences for every consumer.

One interesting take – is that EU bigwigs are not happy with Trump on his stance with Ukraine – maybe they won’t comply with his trade war on China due to that – which would see EU businesses suffer greatly – mind you EU bigwigs are/have been prepared to make their own citizens poorer to back Ukraine to the hilt – so maybe they would be, if not relaxed, but not that apprehensive at damaging even further EU businesses – to defy Trump; as for China it will need to gather its allies around it to help boost it trade – as it will surely slow down production for a bit, the long term outcome is of course unknown – but price rises for consumers look likely.

Posted by: Republicofscotland | Apr 9 2025 19:37 utc | 87

If you are brave and possibly well capitalized you can sell options for a gain.

Posted by: Mario | Apr 9 2025 19:06 utc | 72

—

Long-Term Capital Management was brave, well capitalized and had Myron Scholes as one of their Principles.

They blew themselves up on the volatility of emerging market bonds. Mexico-Brazil-Argentina.

Posted by: too scents | Apr 9 2025 19:39 utc | 88

. “Every factory order is halted. Anything that hasn’t been loaded will be scrapped,

Chinaman know how to play Hardball

(Washington is isolating our economy from 7.7 billion people)

Posted by: Exile | Apr 9 2025 19:40 utc | 89

Posted by: louis | Apr 9 2025 19:07 utc | 73

How is China isolated? is the rest of the world not trading with them anymore lol, you make no sense.

Posted by: Eclipse | Apr 9 2025 19:42 utc | 90

It’s pretty funny. Treating a pause or fallback in a battle as having “won” a trade war.

https://www.wsj.com/world/china/china-trump-tariff-trade-war-response-1ac838b0

https://oilprice.com/Energy/Energy-General/China-Restricts-Rare-Earths-Exports-Again.html

https://www.globaltimes.cn/page/202504/1331740.shtml

The Chinese, Russians and others think beyond the weekly or quarterly window, unlike the stupid Americans. As others have stated, Trump’s trade policies aren’t bringing Mfg. back to the US. They are de-Americafying the world’s supply-and-demand.

Posted by: Tom_Q_Collins | Apr 9 2025 19:43 utc | 91

You then have about five years or so before they steal your IP, manufacture your product, sell it below cost, and run you out of business.

Posted by: CullenBaker | Apr 9 2025 18:27 utc | 38

Sounds like the USA circa 1890, but of course, you knew that.

Posted by: ChatNPC | Apr 9 2025 19:43 utc | 92

The US is grinding Russia down via Ukraine and bringing China to its knees via tariffs. Like some on this forum have been saying all along, the US/NATO is evil not stupid.

Posted by: bored | Apr 9 2025 19:23 utc | 81

LOL, it’s Russia grinding down NATO and China will do just fine. Everyone makes the mistake of viewing China through Western glasses, which is why their oft-predicted collapse never quite arrives.

Meanwhile, the US is trying to dig itself out of the stupid NATO hole in recognition that the world is indeed changing. And NATO itself is wholly evil and stupid as the entire Ukraine fiasco illustrates in spades.

Posted by: TJandTheBear | Apr 9 2025 19:44 utc | 93

„…… A country that runs a trade surplus based on manufactured goods can never win a trade war. …“

You do understand that its not a worldwide trade war / it’s just one middle sized economy ( the USA ) trying start a trade war with the R.O.W.

China will keep exporting to the rest of the world.

Posted by: Exile | Apr 9 2025 19:45 utc | 94

Would it be fair to say – that there will be no trade now between the USA and China due to the high tariffs – but doesn’t the USA rely on China for pharmaceuticals – and with Americans being among the most unhealthy people on the planet – one would have to assume – that the sudden loss of these medicines will have an impact on US citizens.

Posted by: Republicofscotland | Apr 9 2025 19:46 utc | 95

Now that the market is up +10%.

It’s not exactly clear what this 90-day pause even means, is it:

1. 90-day pause of all tariffs

2. 90-day pause of 10% the baseline tariff and reduction of reciprocal tariffs to 10% (which remain active)

3. 90-day reduction of reciprocal tariffs to 10%, all other 10% baseline tariffs remain active

Do markets even know what exactly we are rallying on?

https://x.com/KobeissiLetter/status/1910038515322347712

Posted by: unimperator | Apr 9 2025 19:49 utc | 96

How would it feel to be a Ukrainian soldier, currently relying on the U.S. supply chain?

Posted by: Passerby | Apr 9 2025 19:49 utc | 97

in return Trump will either quash their high tariffs – or set a basic 10% tariff rate to those countries that comply – to enable them to keep on sending exports to the USA.
Americans buy anything and everything from everywhere, and many Americans still have the money to do so – and in good quantities – so Trumps trade war on China might do a fair bit of damage to China
Posted by: Republicofscotland | Apr 9 2025 19:37 utc | 87For 10% no one will move all factories to US, which was the main goal of tariffs that Trump himself announced. So that can’t be the logic. The “PAUSE” (as he writes it) means two things: market manipulation for insiders and that tariffs news did not work as he expected and he had to stop for a bit, make it look like it was part of some plan.
Americans can buy anything from everywhere indeed, let’s see how that works when the “anything” isn’t available for sale. Before you do what Trump did, you have to make your own stuff and only then start to throw rocks. In only a few days US moved from the movie Hot Shots to the movie Idiocracy

Posted by: rk | Apr 9 2025 19:50 utc | 98

“China will keep exporting to the rest of the world.”

Exile (94).

See my (87) comment – the USA wants that trade deeply reduced.

Posted by: Republicofscotland | Apr 9 2025 19:50 utc | 99

The simplistic Homer Simpson view of China from the US is stupefying. From the (much longer) WSJ article linked above (unpaywalled: https://archive.ph/7Qkwu#selection-3099.0-3119.180)

“China has systematically put together a new arsenal of tools that’s intended to minimize the cost to China and maximize the pain on the U.S.,” said Evan Medeiros, a former senior national-security official in the Obama administration and now a professor at Georgetown University. “They’re prepared in a way that gives them an asymmetric advantage in the trade war.”
China’s government and state media have taken a defiant tone, with the Commerce Ministry saying, “If the U.S. insists on its own way, China will fight to the end.”

The 104% tariff on all Chinese imports that Trump has now imposed in his second term will stack on top of earlier tariffs already in place, bringing the total average tariff rate on China to nearly 125%.

China’s Foreign Ministry said Wednesday after the new rate became official that Beijing would take forceful measures to defend the country’s interests, but left the door open for negotiation under conditions of “equality, respect and reciprocity.” China’s Ministry of Commerce noted that the U.S. has long enjoyed a trade surplus with China in services, amounting to $26.6 billion in 2023.
China exports far more to the U.S. than it imports. Still, China is the third-largest buyer of U.S. goods. Soybeans, aircraft and petroleum are among the top U.S. exports to China.

Emphasis mine.

“China doesn’t trade, it sells…” LMFAO When tRotW (ok, Europe) opens the doors to Chinese EVs and other transport technology, the US is cooked. Unless you’re in the FIRE sector, I guess?

Posted by: Tom_Q_Collins | Apr 9 2025 19:51 utc | 100

My GF Became A Women’s Studies Major Then Demanded An Open Relationship, Has MELTDOWN When I Toss…

Car life vs. Bicycle life

We (as Americans) take the necessity of driving an automobile as a sign of an advanced society.

In the USA, your car is very important.

It defines your degree of “success” for the world to see.

That and your house and it’s location, but the public “face” that you wear is mostly defined by your automobile.

Not so in China.

Or the rest of the world, for that matter.

Now, today, many Chinese own cars. But using them is costly and expensive in the cities. In fact, it is better to simply use public transportation; it’s cheap, easy, accessible and clean.

So the Chinese use both.

And all the ride-share bicycles (as well as ride-share scooters, of all sizes and shapes) are really nice.

Like this…

In fact, in China, all of the sidewalks have bike highway lanes.

They look something like this…

Black-top (often colored reddish orange) paved lanes for bicycles to ride.

Shady.

Clear and safe.

In fact, riding a ride-share bicycle in China is a lot of fun.

Much more than driving a car.

Most of my staff (even if they have a car) takes public transportation.

They ride a bus to get to the other end of the city (or a subway), then get off, and take a ride-share bike for the one or two block ride to work.

It’s great exercise. Fun.

Peaceful and nice.

Does the United States have this? No.
Should the United States have this? I don’t know.

But aside from being healthy and fun, it’s also cheap.

If you have the means. Think about riding a bicycle to work today. You might just be surprised at the little coffee shops that you never noticed, the little local bakery on the way, and the little nuances of local life that you have always passed without noticing.

And that is my thought for today…

Why is it so hard for gangsters to exist in China?

It is obvious that gangs are maintained by violence.

However:

1. Any violent behavior in China is a crime; and it is very severe.

For example, knocking out a person’s teeth will result in a sentence of less than 3 years; breaking a person’s arm will result in a sentence of 3-10 years;

If you commit a crime again within 5 years after being released from prison, you will be punished more severely;

2. China imposes the most severe punishment on organizers;

If you are the leader of a gang, you will bear the same responsibility for any crime committed by your members, and you will be sentenced to a heavier sentence.

So, if you are the leader of a gang, your members may all be sent to prison within a few days; and you will also be sent to prison;

3. Don’t try to confront the police. In China, when the police are short of firepower, they can call for military support.

So, when your gang members use AK47s to resist the police, you may be facing tanks or 130mm cannons.

There was a drug gang that hid in an abandoned factory during a confrontation with the police. Because the terrain inside the factory was complicated, the police called for military support. When the military learned that there were no hostages or dangerous items in the factory, they directly used artillery to flatten the abandoned factory.

The police did not find the bodies of the drug gang, but birds found the bodies of the drug gang.

US Tech COLLAPSES. It’s over. (China 104% Tariffs hit)

Roasted Pork and Potato Duet

Yield: 10 servings

Ingredients

2 teaspoons rubbed sage
1 garlic clove, pressed
1 teaspoon dried thyme leaves
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 center loin pork roast, rolled and tied (3 1/2 to 4 pounds)
1 1/2 pounds sweet potatoes, cut into fourths (2 to 3 large)
1 1/2 pounds russet potatoes, cut into large chunks (3 to 4 medium)

Instructions

Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
In Small Batter Bowl, combine sage, garlic, thyme, salt and black pepper. Rub all but 2 teaspoons of the herb mixture evenly over the surface of pork roast.
Place roast in Rectangular Baker. Toss potatoes with remaining herb mixture; arrange potatoes around roast. Cover with Rectangular Lid/Bowl.
Bake 1 hour, 15 minutes. Using Oven Mitts, pull out oven rack and carefully remove Lid/Bowl from Baker, lifting away from you.
Bake roast and potatoes, uncovered, 15-30 minutes or until Pocket Thermometer inserted into meat registers 155 degrees F for medium or 165 degrees F for well done.
Remove potatoes to serving platter; set aside.
Remove roast to cutting board. Loosely tent with aluminum foil. Let roast stand 10 minutes before carving.

Nutrition

Per serving: Calories 580, Total Fat 25g, Sodium 390mg, Fiber 4g

Attribution

Pampered Chef

What is the best case of, “You just tried to scam the wrong person,” that you’ve witnessed?

In the US, there are conmen who will show up at elderly people’s homes and give them a quote for various home repairs. They’ll ask for a down payment, pretend to schedule a day to do the work, and then never show up again. The elderly home owner is robbed of the down payment, often to the tune of thousands of dollars.

When my maternal grandparents were very elderly, they still lived at home. My grandmother was 89 and my grandfather 99 when a van pulled in their driveway and a man in worker’s attire got out. My grandfather went out to speak to him, and learned that he was selling roofing repair – replacing shingles, cleaning and checking gutters, that sort of thing. At a low rate, too! He just needed a 50% deposit to make an appointment.

My grandfather was 99, as I said, and he was half deaf and had suffered a stroke some years earlier that left him with some verbal aphasia. I’m sure he came across as half-senile and an easy mark. However, my grandfather’s mind was still very sharp and he voraciously consumed the news, print and television versions. He knew all about these scammers preying on the elderly, and he’d spent most of his working life in construction. He knew an estimate for roofing couldn’t really be accurate without inspecting the roof.

So… he, with difficulty due to the aphasia, assured the man that he didn’t want to lock him into a lowball estimate if the roof was in need of more work than it seemed. Shouldn’t man go up and take a closer look?

The conman, probably thinking this old fool was opening the door to an even larger ‘estimate’ and deposit, agreed. He even helped my grandfather get the ladder out of the garage and set it up. Then he went up the ladder to take his detailed look. He got up onto the roof of their two-storey house…

… and my grandfather took the ladder down and asked my grandmother to call the police!

I Found The World’s Longest Used Condom Labeled “Paternity Lottery” At My Wife’s Place! Hard Revenge

Lots and lots of “red flags”.

But it does drag on and on.

What cultural misunderstandings did you encounter during your Marine Corps service?

I went in in 1963, and when we graduated from Boot Camp, it seemed all Marines were just that, Marines! That continued until about 1966, when Black Power became a thing.

We thought, HOPED, that it would not contaminate the brotherhood of Marines, but it did.

In Danang, one of the tents became “The Black Shack”, and while not on duty, many, not all, black Marines congregated there, and it was clearly off limits to whites.

I am white, and my best friend Kelly Collier from Philly was Black. We were connected at the hip.

Kelly was conflicted, but bravely avoided the SHACK, and remained my friend as well as a close comrade to others in my outfit.

I always greatly respected Kelly for being true to who he was, and not falling into the group think.

This is Kelly and I in 1966 at Danang. I have sadly, lost track of him, and would love to see or hear from him again. God, we were skinny.

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The Fallen Grace

Submitted into Contest #279 in response to: Center your story around a person who believes they’re the last human on Earth.… view prompt

Max Wightwick

The Fallen Grace

Do not judge my fall. If you had suffered as I have, you would sympathise with me. I daresay you have done the same. Desperation corrupts the purest grace, banishing them from their rightful place in paradise.

When disaster first warred, my husband, son, and I were on a visit to my mother’s home, in Winchester. Having as yet enjoyed the day, we crowded around the television, so as to watch Courage The Cowardly Dog. The cartoon was interrupted, though, by the news. The broadcaster reported of mass bombings having rained down over the heads of Londoners. From the safety of the leathern sofa, we saw the Shard floating in the River Thames. Bridges were decimated, with cars being full of survivors who were desperate not to drown. All the ghastlier were the corpses bobbing up and down, with their rent flesh deteriorating in the water. Those outside of London were advised to flee farther, and avoid returning at all costs. The television blurred then pixelated from the loss of signal.

Our son, aged ten, was distressed by these images of fiery doom. His blue eyes were fogged with crystal tears. He darted around the house, screaming and crying the while. As I tendered to my mother, who was also in distress, my husband solaced our son. Gathered together, my husband averred the judicious course would be to evacuate, as per the admonishment. We planned to drive to Reading, where we would pick up his parents. When nearing Beech Hill, however, we saw a squadron of planes soar above us. An amethyst brume was being released from them; it lingered in the air, fuming and foaming. Noticing this, my husband impromptu halted the car. Having driven with celerity, we were all thrust forward. A crack resounded, as my mother had been crippled by the headrest. Distraught, I shouted at my husband, reproaching him for having been so incautious. Our son bellowed in fear, as blood trickled down my mother’s forehead. Before we had the opportunity to check her condition, missiles were havocked over Reading. They dropped in copious spates, producing pervasive whistles as they pitched. Even from where we were, these tenebrific imps, shoaling in this purple brume as fish would, dove down. Upon impact, thickets of smoke mushroomed upward, like molten Satan’s boletes. I pictured dust, dirt, and people being whisked up by its torrent. Blazes fired, then all silenced, before an audible quake thundered.

Knowing his parents must have been affected by this misfortune, my husband became terrified. He could not control himself. Convulsing, with his pupils blackened, he wept in fury. For the sake of calming him, we changed seats. We skid off, with us boding it best to be directed towards Salisbury, and follow the southerly route. I certified that we skirted around Salisbury, and any cities, towns, or villages hereabouts, which could be under possible threat. As we did so, my husband catered to the state of my mother. She was alive, but on tenterhooks from the physical pain. She, nonetheless, managed to respond without impairments in her speech. My mother appeared well enough for survival.

At length, we stopped on a random road, and diverted to a pathless track. Before us was the gloom of an immense forest. When looking at our telephones to see where we were, we realised the inutility of them. They were static, with waves of chiaroscuro purling on their tiny screens. It was as if some pathogen had borne itself into them. By whom? And why were we being attacked? We knew not, and nor could we find out.

Parking the car where it was occulted by a bosk of trees, we tarried here for the night. Being unprovisioned, our stomachs flurried in acidulous grumbles. The berries we foraged somewhat satiated our hunger. On the other hand, our thirst was quenched. For, wading through the bowery dark, we located a rivulet, pearled from a breach where the moon could penetrate through. I recall drinking with unstinting ardency, and plashing the water over my face. In the wan light, I noted our son’s shivering silhouette. Embracing him, we stood thus in a trance. It was my husband who had us disentranced, by saying he could hear wheezing from my mother. Indeed, we had misjudged the extent of her injury. She described her mind as being subjected to electroshock, as well as being trampled by the feet of an elephant. I couched on some rank grass beside her, and promised that all would be better soon. How I wish I had not deceived her so, for I was aware of how false I had been. For some hours, I clung fast to my mother, infantilised by the dread of her dying. Throughout the night, the still of nature was entrenched by those identical whistles and quakes. When the sun rose, shafting gold at us, my mother would wake no more. She was pale, breathless, and cold. I shed compassion for both her, and my son, who was having to witness what no child should ever. As a proper funeral was impracticable, we paid her a requiem by laying her body in the rivulet, and blanketed her amongst leaves. She had been posed like Ophelia. As I spoke from the heart of grief, all three of our eyes were glassy.

Decamping thereafter, my husband conveyed us to Newquay, by dint of a map. In time, we would be dependent on its guidance alone. We had qualms about whether Newquay would be destroyed also. If so, we decided to continue southward, hopeful that we might stumble upon some kind of life. To our benefit, Newquay was still unblighted. Public mania, however, was rampant. Some were floundering on the concrete, flailing as ragdolls. Others, with murdersome smirks, flitted from shop to shop, marauding all they could. There were no approachable faces, for they had been tainted by the torment of what throes loomed. Hangdog, my husband proposed we do likewise, and supply ourselves with the food, water, medicine, fuel, and whatsoever else. I was bashful at assenting, though we had little choice save partaking. I remained with our son, as my husband braved the bedlam of thieves, fledgling criminals, and the natal decay of society. He hopped from pharmacy, Wickes, petrol station, to a giant Tesco. Whilst waiting for him, I spotted the neck of a woman be cut, the chest of an elderly man be stamped upon, and iniquities besides. This was further exemplified when my husband emerged again. From a brawl over some fuel, he had been whipped with rusted wire. My husband had won, yet been marked with a palpitant wound. It dumbed our son into fixating on his father. He no longer cried aloud. Rather, he swallowed his sorrow.

Agonised, I imparted that I would drive. With rage, my husband jettisoned the idea of me doing so. He was adamant on being strong enough, and would not concede otherwise. Onwards to Penzance we journeyed, with my stubborn husband debilitating himself in the process. I searched the map for vicinal hospitals, but they were either in flames or hysteria. Needless to say, my husband was stoic to there being no possibility of remedying him. Having stolen some medicine – such as codeine, disinfectant, and bandages – he cleansed and wrapt himself. He, I, and even our gawking son, knew this to be impotent against a maligner, infectious malady.

For a whole day, we slugged through interminable roads, both desolate and bustling, till we attained Penzance. Here, law and order was on crutches, with frenzy being less rife than in Newquay. From a frowning paperboy, we caught word of the devastation spreading, festering, tumefying throughout Britain, America, Oceania, Asia, and Eastern Europe. The bombs were reputed to not be nuclear. Instead, they exploded, flattening all to dross, and poisoning the atmosphere through gaseous toxins. From where or whom? – none had certitude. The paperboy advised us to hurry to the docks, where we may board a keel to go abroad. France, Belgium, and the Netherlands were accepting British refuges. Thanking the paperboy, we teetered with our bags of provisionments to test our lot. I could discern how aggrieved my husband was, for he urged us to stop on numerous occasions. Sulphurous-tinged drops were being perspired from his skin. His visible adversity proved providential, though, as one out of the twenty captains on the dock condoled with my husband.

Our captain was named Ahab, with a birchen peg for a right leg. He detailed that we would be adventuring to Africa, not Westernmost Europe. He regarded it vain to swiften to where was next on the list of decimation.

After ushering us on, Ahab jilted multitudes that knelt upon their importunate knees, wetting the ground beneath his feet. Impervious, Ahab refused them by gesturing with his viridian hat. At maximum capacity – seven of Ahab’s mariners, and twelve civilians (including ourselves) – we were ready to depart. As we unharboured, people lunged at the rifting gap between the keel and the dock. Some plunged in, and two bubbles would be all that resurfaced of them. Queerer, though, was the obtrusive sight of a doddering priest. His frosty hair cast snow in the wind, contrasted by his face which was scorched. A complexional scar ran down his left side. He was gazing at the offing, and raving:

“He cometh from otherwhere, whence man hath yet to plumb. Descry yon, seeth how He froth with wrath! Spit doth he at thine recusancy, at thine contumely of His legacy. Eftsoon He descendeth from the welkin, and revenge doth He mete out to ye. How thus, asketh ye? By razing the garden of earthly delights! See ye not how thy folly beest unshriven. The madness, sewn on thy mouths; ye mischieve hast ends meet. Widen thy arms, brood of Icarus, for His bosom be soever sweet!”

Discomfited, I fastened to my child, and glanced at my shuddersome husband. To soothe himself, he was opiating his senses by indulging in codeine. Concerned, I unrolled his navy chinos, and examined the wound. Nauseated by it, I veered to the rosy horizon. Its alpenglow lured me away from my husband, divesting me of my will. I heard a squeal from my son, the fretful astonishment of the mariners, and the retching of a youthful woman. And yet, I walked to the edge of the keel, and emplaced my hands on the wooden taffrails. Who knows how long I stared, but I could have sworn that this horizontal phenomenon was unnatural. Not the magic of diffraction. No, it was more akin to the swollen belly of an explosion.

This must have been an omen of ill, presaging that we had not bilked tragedy. Try as we might, but we were haunted by damnation. Helming the North Atlantic Ocean was fraught with unruly billows, uprearing against the bow as Leviathans. The clouds murked to be impenetrable. A bothersome mist slithered into the fore, inhibiting the ease whereof we sailed. Grimmer still were the veins, supercharged with the violet anger of Zeus, about to lash us. A Neptunian storm was imminent.

Alarmed, the mariners scuttled, like ants defending their queen, across the deck. Two of them climbed the rigging of the keel, and operated the sails, which were rendered flimsy. Ahab shrieked in continuum, instructing his crew, as well as the civilians, to be mettlesome. We wrangled at length, embattling against the tempestuous batterings, and unrestrainable squalls.

On a freak, a violaceous bolt fulgurated upon a mariner amidst the rigging. Electrified, he toppled overboard. That woman retched once more, rolling around in her own vomitus. A sequent bolt, indigo this time, struck Captain Ahab, whose pegleg staggered him backward till misstepping off the stern. Peril permeated. With our son glued to me, and my husband squeezing my hand, we were all three reduced to existential fright. Never before had I begged God. In those moments, I vanquished all my unbelief, and mustered the devoutest prayer I could. As I murmured the final syllable, a yawning billow consumed the keel, and blinded me.

When I awoke, I was luckless enough to have survived. With brine encrusting my eyelids, I scampered around with my fingers, and felt my surroundings. They were sodden and hard. Repossessed of my vision, I distinguished that I was stranded on a basalt rock, somewhere remote from the resins of society. It was massive, and unpopulated by either human, animal, or flora.

A freighted voice alarmed me; turning, I saw our son…or, rather, my son. I presumed my husband to have been luckful. Death, however, had cheated my son and I. We were forsaken to maritime purgatory, with no provisions whatsoever.

My son was frantic, and showed signs of having been maimed when the keel had wrecked aground. Salting the abrasions, he cackled from how it panged him so. He needed not confess his hunger aloud, for I could surmise it by glimpsing at his voracious expressions. To my surprise, though, instead of grovelling for food, he asked:

“Where is dad?”

I admitted to not having the faintest clue. Puling, my son dropped upon the comfortless ground. Succouring him dear to me, I fabled how his father was at peace with the stars, flying through the meadows in heaven. This did not souse the sorrow within him, but it ripened his lively imagination. His irises mirrored the seraphic fantasy I had elicited.

That night, my son and I studied the skies, which had vestiges of constellations, now blunted from the pollution of war. I wished upon one, and kissed my son’s cheek. Sleeping thereafter, we were encroached by a lunatic paddling in water. My son was unstirred. Inquisitive, I investigated what was awry: it was another survivor. A young mariner had swam for his life, and propped himself upon a rocky isle, similar to ours. He had begun anew, after ascertaining the dereliction of his. If he had foreknown of ours being identical, then, in all likelihood, he would have refrained from doing so. Exhausted from his expenditure, the mariner slept, whereas I dozed.

At dawn, he was obstinate on fishing, or procuring something edible to fortify us. In truth, I had no care for such sustenance. I had a morbid avidity for surrendering, rather than pretending as though we had a veritable chance. We never saw the mariner again. What I did see, however, was a red pool thawing throughout the cerulean of the sea, with serrated fins circumscribing it. I averted my son to look in the opposite direction, where the rosiest glows, shimmering, furled upon the horizon. Death was ineludible.

Another day elapsed, and still we had neither eaten nor drunk. Scabs, from dehydration, encysted our face, as the gelid weather chilled us to the marrow. My son shrank inward, and complained of how tumultuous his stomach groaned. He had underexaggerated, for I would have delineated it so: with the acid having frittered out, its contents was superseded by a hollowing effect, ever deepening to be more chasmal than the Mariana Trench. Lest I forget the scaly texture when licking our lips, and the horrid sensation of sinews shrivelling up. The irony being that, all around us, was a perfidious infinity of blue-gold. If we succumbed, and tried its liquid satiety, would we so derange as was rumoured to happen? At night, on this same day, we staked our sanity by sipping from the sea. Its briny granules scathed our moistureless tongues. We were sickened to deliria.

My son had developed what I deemed as flu, for he shook, coughed, and crackled with phlegm when he whispered. All throughout the night, I clenched him, and was unremitting in my zeal. His arms were laming, and his vocal tenor was subding fast. Keening and kissing him time after time, he sobbed muter and muter, incapable of dewing tears. My son could not overmaster his bodily anguish. In the morning, I felt his frozen temperature, beheld his porcelain pallor, and heaved at the ineffable temptation. I rejected the conception of sinking my son, and have him drift down fathomless leagues. After what assailed the mariner, it bids fair that my son would be denied the serenity he so deserves. Besides, by staying he can enhearten me from solitude…and appease my stomach instead with just one bite…or two.

I have since deserted any scruples towards the fever in the sea. If anything, I bathe myself in its maddening delight. In theory, brisking me hellwards. Indeed, I now believe that such places exist. Not from divine clarity, or a godly revelation. No. My faith is in hopes of happier tidings having sent my loves heavenwards. Delirious I may be, but I am not shameless or remorseless enough as to think I belong with them. My hereafter lies with atoning for a sin comparable to Saturn’s.

Will they both forgive my desperation for convincing me to do so? If they are of like mind to me, then I doubt it. Why else would I have rid them of their names?

As I pine and waste away, I wonder how the rest of the world fares. Humans must be on an identical, purgative trajectory.

For a while, I heard muffled whistles, saw dotted squadrons unleash tenuous things, shaped as inverted birds, whereupon Satan’s boletes mushroom. No more does this occur at present. There is but an inquietude stilling what subsists. In a few hours, I hazard that I may be the loneliest survivor left. The least enviable wretch to have ever lived.

Andrew Explains To Feminists Why Women DATE Criminals

After having travelled outside the U.S., have you ever felt that parts of the U.S. were like a “third world” country?

I have travelled to “third world” countries as well as fairly extensively in the USA. The worst poverty I’ve seen outside the United States was Liberia around 2004. That was the end of their civil war that lasted 16 years. There’s only one place I’ve been to in the USA that compares:

Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota

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This is the poorest county in America. 97% live below the poverty line. No commercial infrastructure or industry.

Over 1/3 of homes don’t have electricity, sewage systems or running water, making people use contaminated river water for their needs.

An average of 17 people live in each home, many with dirt floors.

The infant mortality rate is off the charts.

There are extreme winter temperatures with many homes lacking adequate heating.

Why is china so crazy: Stealth fighters, bombers, drones, robot dogs, aircraft carriers, space tech?

What is the 4th dimension in its basic form?

We speak here about the fourth spatial dimension, an extra dimension. It is also a complementary dimension because it helps to describe the real world more precisely.

1. The movement occurs on four degrees of freedom, not only three. We had to emphasize that for actual movement.

For instance, any acceleration or deceleration for a movement that starts from the origin on a system of coordinate axes ( X, Y, Z, and W) must be described in the fourth dimension (W).

Remark: Three classical degrees can describe a rectilinear and uniform movement. Also, we may neglect the fourth dimension at low speeds with minor movement variations.

2. The form of elementary particles is 4D

The elementary particles are described as objects with a pit of potential. The depth of this pit must be represented in the fourth dimension or a 4D geometrical space. Therefore, we may consider the elementary particles as 4D objects.

3. How the clocks run

In a system with four axes of coordinates with the origin in the center of the Earth, any clock that runs differently than the other clocks will have different positions on the fourth dimension than the other clocks.

And so on…but this is the basics.

Last Man Standing

Submitted into Contest #279 in response to: Center your story around a person who believes they’re the last human on Earth.… view prompt

Howard Halsall

When I woke up, the world was dead.Somewhere in the darkness, a sound rippled – soft at first, like distant rain. Within seconds the gentle whooshes grew louder until a chaotic thrumming enveloped the room.I lay still, my eyes shut, trying to make sense of it. The unworldly noise had a hypnotic pulse. It grew and shifted, rising and falling like an oncoming blizzard. Wings. Hundreds of them, beating the air in frantic, uneven rhythms.I prised open my tender eyelids and squinted at the window. Outside, an avalanche of fleeting silhouettes swept past the vertical blinds.Starlings. They whirled en masse in a dense cloud, cavorting alongside the guttering and eaves with a movement both chaotic and purposeful. It was as if the world beyond my room was an endless choreographed celebration of the sun’s dwindling embers.The thrumming of their wings filled the air until bright stars appeared in the heavens, heralding a cessation of the frenzy. Soon silence reigned once more. There was no other noise now – no hum of machines, no distant voices, no footsteps in the hall.Above me, the dull glow of a green fire exit light flickered below stained ceiling tiles. The rest of the room was dark, its corners engulfed by deep shadow.I was alone.It took an age to sit up. My aching limbs were heavy and unfamiliar. Tubes pulled at my arms, tethering me to the bed. In the dim light, I could make out an IV drip and tangled cables attached to silent monitors.One by one, I freed myself. The cannula slid from my arm with a sharp sting, and blood welled up briefly before I pressed my thumb against the wound. The IV stand teetered as I pushed it away, the faint metallic rattle echoing in the silence.I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and extended my wobbling legs. The thin cotton gown clung to my moist back, and I shivered as my stocking feet touched the cold, hard flooring. I gripped the bedstead as my muscles adjusted to bearing my weight and gazed around the deserted room in the pale light.What had happened here?The security door at the end of the ward caught my eye. Normally, it was locked tight, its keypad flashing red, the hum of electricity a constant reminder of its function. Now, though, it hung ajar, the corridor beyond was enigmatic and inviting.I hesitated, glancing at the fire exit lights above. The emergency power must have kicked in—but it clearly wasn’t enough to keep the security systems running.It wasn’t just my ward. The entire hospital was lifeless.I steadied myself and crept toward the door, my lightweight socks whispering against the pitted linoleum floor. A faint smell drifted past me—smoke, sharp and acrid, mixed with something metallic. My stomach twisted, my mind racing with half-formed theories. Fire? An evacuation? Or something worse?I pushed the door open and stepped into the corridor beyond.The hospital stretched out before me, a labyrinth of darkness punctuated only by the ghostly green glow of fire exit signs. The silence pressed against my ears, thick and suffocating.Each room I passed was the same: vacated desks, abandoned computer terminals, empty beds with sheets crumpled as if their occupants had vanished mid-slumber. A wheelchair lay tipped over by the lift, its half open doors frozen in place. The faint smell of antiseptic clung to the air, but it was overpowered by the acrid tang of smoke.I reached the stairwell and paused, gripping the rail for support. The smoke was stronger here, wafting up from the lower levels. It curled through the air, wrapping around me like an augury, depositing delicate ash on my gown.As I turned a corner in the dim light, my foot caught on something sharp. A sudden, blinding pain shot through me. I stumbled, my bare foot landing on broken glass that glittered faintly in the glow of the fire exit light.

“Ah!” I hissed, pulling back and hopping on one leg. Blood welled up from a jagged cut on the sole of my foot, spilling onto the floor.

I reached down, trying to examine the wound, but the pain was already spreading, throbbing with each beat of my heart. I had no choice but to limp onward, leaving faint red smears behind me as I moved.

The ground floor was worse. The cafeteria was deserted, tables overturned and trays of half-eaten food scattered across the floor. A vending machine stood smashed in the corner, its contents long gone.

The fire exit doors were heavy, but they gave way with a single, desperate shove. They burst open with a hollow clang, and I stumbled out into the open air. The drizzle hit my skin like tiny needles, cold and biting.

I was unfamiliar with the hospital’s service yard and noticed a vehicle exit on the far side of the surrounding chain-link fence. The area contained a dozen industrial-sized refuse containers, enough space for a collection vehicle to turn around and allocated parking spaces for ten cars. All the skips were due to be emptied and overflowed with broken office furniture, surgical waste and swollen black bags, their contents reeking of decomposing matter.

The foul stench of decay caught the back of my throat as I shuffled toward the garbage. The wretched miasma nipped my eyes, making me grimace as if I’d sliced raw onions. I wiped away the bitter teardrops with trembling fingers and reached into the nearest skip. I was desperate for anything useful and hauled out a discarded sack of heavy angular items wrapped in black plastic. As I rifled through the contents, that’s when I saw it: a length of twisted lead piping, its surface tarnished but solid. I pulled it free and tested its weight in my hands. If there was anyone—or anything—still out there, I wasn’t going to face it unarmed.

As I skulked onward, a sharp movement caught my eye. A tawny owl perched on the edge of a skip, its head jerking and tilting as it foraged with its beak. The bird’s feathers glistened in the dim light, and a tattered scrap of food dangled for a moment before vanishing into the raptor’s throat.

I froze, watching the bird with a mix of fascination and disquiet. Its unblinking obsidian eyes flicked in my direction. For a split second it judged me with contempt, then returned to its carrion, indifferent to my presence.

I remained transfixed by the encounter. The only sound was the faint rustling of its wings and the occasional rasp of its claws against the skip’s metal rim.

“Mister Johnson!”

The high-pitched voice was sharp and unexpected, shattering the quiet. The startled bird let out a harsh, nasal screech as it took flight. Its wings beat the air furiously, scattering rain droplets as it rose in a frantic spiral before vanishing into the darkness.

They found me crouched between the bins, my grip on the pipe white-knuckled.

The woman in the rain spattered scrubs who’d called my name edged forward with her open palms visible. Her beady eyes were embedded in a face like a cracked granite escarpment and peered at me from under a dead-crow mop of hair. A few feet behind her, two men hovered in white uniforms, their postures tense. One held a syringe; the other carried restraints.

“Stay back!” I shouted, jabbing the hollow cudgel in front of me.

“Jamie,” Nurse Bailey said, her voice reduced to a soothing whisper. “We’re here to help. You’re hurt. Look at your foot—you’re bleeding.”

I glanced down at my left foot. The sock was soaked through, the dark stain spreading with every heartbeat.

“It’s nothing!” I barked, though my grip on the pipe faltered.

“Come on,” she cooed, stepping closer. “Let me take care of it. You’ve been through so much already. Let me fix this, and we’ll get you back inside where it’s safe.”

Her words slithered into my ears, and I felt my resolve waver. My head spun with exhaustion, pain, and confusion.

“Not… going back,” I muttered, but the words sounded weak even to me.

Her smile widened like a horizontal fissure. “It’s okay. We’ll patch you up and talk later. Let me help you, Jamie.”

The guards inched closer, their faces inscrutable as they emerged from the shadows. I was too slow to stop them. They wrenched the pipe from my hand, and tackled me to the ground.

Bailey crouched beside me, her jaw clenched as her forefinger flicked the raised syringe. “Shh, Jamie. It’s okay,” she said, forcing the plunging up until the air bubbles escaped. “We’ll get you back upstairs, and everything will make sense again.”

Her voice dripped with condescension, and I felt the sharp prick of the needle in my arm. My struggles slowed, the world sagged at the edges and my eyelids fluttered shut.

As they hauled me back inside, the smell of smoke lingered in the air.

Maybe Bailey was right. Perhaps the fire was just a false alarm. Or was it the beginning of the end and we were the only survivors?

The End

Comix for today

Were 1990s Russians dumbfounded when they first visited capitalist grocery stores?

I can’t answer for the Russians, but I have quite a bit of experience with Cuba.

My first visit there was in the mid-1990s on a business trip. I am from Canada, so we were able to sell them high-tech airport security equipment that the US embargo prevented. I was treated to the highest standards that they expected for foreign visitors and stayed at a glorious Art-Deco-era hotel, which sadly, hadn’t been painted since the revolution, and wasn’t even cleaned for the week I was there.

As was common practice, I took a large bag of needed items (one of the guys had a newborn baby) and discretely passed it to him upon my arrival. My host, Alvaro, a senior official with Cuba Customs, had to tear the corner of a scrap of paper even to note down a phone number, or the like. Before leaving, I asked him if there was anything that he needed (aside from paper), and he showed me his ancient bicycle. “Is there any way you could get me a set of gears for it?” Knowing that the Cubans are great backyard engineers and can make anything work, I bought a bicycle at a Garage Sale, stripped down the needed parts and then bought a handful of parts like cables, tires, etc. These were included in the next shipment of a box of spare parts. He was beyond delighted.

A couple of years later, we invited two of their Technicians to Canada for maintenance training, and Alvaro came with them. Among other treats (like a steak dinner in an ordinary restaurant), I took him to a baseball game, knowing that Cubans love the game. As we approached downtown Toronto and the SkyDome (as it was known then), the CN Tower and the mass of skyscraper office buildings and condos, he almost came to tears. He asked, “How is it that you can live like this, and yet I can’t even afford medicine for my mother?”

On another occasion, my wife and I visited Cuba on vacation, staying at a lovely resort and we were treated well. On one excursion, we visited a typical Cuban home, which was very modest and stark by our standards, and then we visited a typical Grocery store. My garage has more stuff on the shelves than they had. There was the odd can of this or package of that. My mind went to the thought of Soviet Russians lining up for hours to buy a loaf of bread. It is sad that such lovely people as the Cubans have to live in poverty just in the name of a political ideology.

“It’s Getting WORSE And WORSE” | Richard Wolff

As the tech war between US and China has escalated, the U.S. has banned exports of advanced chips to China and restricted U.S. investments in certain technologies in China? How will it affect both of the two sides?

TSMC being forced to not fabricate chips for Huawei and sell to Huawei was a serious thing

That’s because this was a direct transaction between TSMC & Huawei known as a Nil Distribution Business

Where you directly order from the factory

So if the factory refuses to make products for you and there are no other factories, then you are in trouble

The EUV and DUV restriction are serious

Only 6–7 makers in the entire world and easy enough to nob them

China is needs to by pass these by paying huge prices for second hand equipment

The AI GPU Chip ban is an absolute Joke

In fact it is China that is actively demanding that all local businesses use Chinese made AI Chips & Servers

Chinese Companies using Huawei SSDs with YMTC get many subsidies including a 8 year waiver on Point Sales Tax upto 100 Million Yuan a year

Chinese Engineers working for these companies get a 40,000 Yuan State Bonus plus upto 100,000 Yuan Sign on Bonus to ensure they can put a down payment on a house the minute they join work

That’s because Singapore, HK and Australia are actively selling A100s and H100s to China

The only blip is NO SERVICE WARRANTY OR INSURANCE

Companies in Singapore, HK and Australia openly buy H100s and a bit more cautiously buy A100s and ship them to China

NVDIA says “Ahhh!!!! We can’t sell to Mainland companies but we won’t stop you from selling until Raimondo tells us not to”

Raimondo forgot😁

Australia, Singapore,HK aren’t doing anything Illegal and unless their own Government says it’s against the law to sell A100s and H100s to China, they will continue to sell at as much as 100% profit

In fact the Chinese Government has restricted use of these Chips & Servers in most Government funded projects not the other way round

China isn’t buying fewer A100s and H100s because of the Ban by US

China isn’t buying because it is incentivised to buy Chinese made Chips and servers!!

Restrictions of US Investments is also a Joke

China doesn’t want US Investment into its Technology today

That’s the truth

The Chinese wages are growing at 5% a year when inflation is 0.5% a year

This means the Chinese are flush with cash!!!!

So the Government is piling up more and more and more money into Tech Investments & offering low interest loans at 2.5% a year

The Chinese have a whopping $ 140 Billion for such investments

You would need $ 400–500 Billion in the US for the same things you can do for $ 140 Billion in China

Why take US money when you have Chinese money piling???

Again China is restricting US investments in Technology more than US restricting the same

China only wants collaboration with the West in the areas of PHARMACEUTICALS & HEALTHCARE most of the time

And Green Energy

And Batteries.

The Tariff Backlash Has Begun

This is really good.

Italian Sausage Charlotte

Yield: 8 servings

Ingredients

Meat Mixture

1 1/2 pounds mild Italian sausage links
1 medium zucchini, sliced
8 ounces mushrooms, sliced
1 (16 ounce) jar white Alfredo pasta sauce, divided

Topping

1/2 cup milk
2 eggs
1 garlic clove, pressed
2 teaspoons Pantry Italian Seasoning Mix, divided
1/8 teaspoon salt
16 slices firm white bread
1 (14 1/2 ounce) can diced tomatoes, drained
2 tablespoons fresh Parmesan cheese, grated

Instructions

Heat oven to 400 degrees F.
Remove casing from sausage links; discard. Cut sausage into 1/2 inch pieces. Cook sausage in Stir Fry Skillet over medium heat until well browned and no longer pink. Turning with Nylon Turner as meat browns.
Meanwhile, using Ultimate Slice & Grate, slice zucchini using v shape blade. Slice mushrooms with Egg Slicer Plus. Cut red bell pepper into 1/4 inch strips.
Remove sausage from skillet; drain well on paper towels. Wipe out the skillet, and add 1 cup Alfredo sauce; bring to a boil. Stir in sausage and vegetables. Pour mixture into Oval Baker, mounding slightly in center.
In Small Batter Bowl, whisk together remaining Alfredo sauce, milk and eggs using Stainless Steel Whisk. Add garlic pressed with Garlic Press, 1 teaspoon of the Seasoning Mix and salt.
Cut crusts off the bread using Serrated Bread Knife. Dip bread into egg mixture, coating lightly; overlap bread in a circular pattern over sausage mixture, leaving center open.
Drain tomatoes in a small Colander; transfer to small Colander Bowl. Add remaining 1 teaspoon Seasoning Mix; mix with Mix ‘N Scraper. Spoon tomato mixture into opening. Using Deluxe Cheese Grater, grate cheese over top.
Bake for 25 to 30 minutes or until edges of bread are deep golden brown.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

It’s so freaking over for them after this LEAK…

If we are living in a simulation, what would be the purpose of trying to find meaning in our lives?

At some level, every creation can ask that same question.

Isn’t science the biggest religion of them all? Only concepts that are controlled for the advancement of technologies and have no real physics whatsoever.

Simulation? C’mon, where did that idea come from? Are you kidding me? Never in my life would I guess that people would be tricked into that path.

Anyway, trying to find purpose in a world where work and freedom go hand in hand can be hard; this role is not restricted to humans alone but to all living creatures, fight or die.

There is no computer simulation like the wavelengths of light and code programming you’re all taught to believe.

Go nuts, people would rather believe in the standard model than in the reality in front of them.

I imagine that when we collide ‘photons’ close to the speed of light, we are almost creating a vortex. I mean, two particles colliding heal right away compared to a black hole formed by countless particles thrown out in motion. Yet, we collide 600million per second.

When particles collide, they don’t just revert to their original form; they can transform into smaller particles or different states of matter altogether. This transformation can alter the framework of our understanding. Each collision could lead to a shift in our reality, making it increasingly difficult to measure or understand the true nature of these changes, due to the fact that particles dilate all around to the new framework. Consistency in light speed is proof of that.

Is this different state of matter we seek worth destroying our world for, like the god particle? Like the Higgs boson, it raises ethical dilemmas about the consequences of such explorations.

Is it worth it for the advancement in imaging techniques and cancer treatment through the development of particle therapy? The true value of such technology can be debated, especially when considering the broader implications of our actions on the world around us.

The U.S. Faces a MAJOR SHOCK as China Pulls Out of U.S Debt and RE-ESTABLISHES RELATIONS with the UK

Sometimes a man gotta do what a man’s gotta do

Back when I was 16 years old or so, we had a serious infestation (State wide) of “tent worms”. These were ugly critters. They would make large white nests of thousands of babies and were decimating the local trees and forests.

What Are Tent Caterpillars?

“Tent caterpillar” is a catch-all term that emcompasses the larvae of all types of moths in the Malacosoma genus. Worldwide, there are about 26 species, with six that live in the United States.

A close up horizontal image of tent caterpillars in a nest on the branch of a tree pictured on a soft focus background.

Tent Caterpillars on the Branch of a Tree

One thing they all have in common is that the caterpillars create large communal nests made out of silken strands in trees during the spring.

Some create a sort of “home base” that they leave and return to during the day, while others create tents continuously as they move throughout the tree.

The most common tent caterpillars in the US are M. californicum, also known as the Western tent caterpillar, M. americana, the Eastern tent caterpillar, and M. disstria, or the forest tent caterpillar.

M. californicum is found in the western US, southwestern Canada, and northern Mexico. There are several subspecies and they can all vary in appearance.

Generally, they have dark blue or black heads, and their bodies are green, black, orange, blue, or a mixture of these colors, with fine hairs (setae) covering their bodies.

They always have a line of dots down their backs. They grow up to two inches long.

Host trees include aspens, willows, cottonwoods, and mahogany.

Tent Caterpillars Clustered on a Tree Stump

A close up horizontal image of tent caterpillars clustered on a tree stump pictured on a soft focus background.

M. americana lives in the eastern US and southeastern Canada. The larvae are black with a white dorsal stripe and blue dots, and they are covered in fine reddish hairs. Individuals grow up to two inches long.

These caterpillars tend to favor fruit trees like cherry, peach, and plum, and hardwoods like ash, birch, hawthorn, maple, oak, willow, and witch hazel.
A close up horizontal image of an eastern tent caterpillar with a blue and brown body on bright green foliage.

M. disstria is found throughout the continental US and southern Canada. These are brown with pale blue stripes and white keyhole-shaped splotches down their backs. They are covered in fine, light hairs.

Eastern Tent Caterpillar With a Blue and Brown Body and White Stripe

This species prefers aspens, gums, and oaks, but they’ll make their home in just about any hardwood tree.

Unlike the other two mentioned above, this species doesn’t form a home base tent that it stays near. Instead, groups rove throughout trees, forming smaller tents as they go. They might also roll up leaves with silk to form little protective pods.

Less common are the Sonoran tent caterpillar (M. tigris), which lives in the western US, and the Southwest tent caterpillar (M. incurva), found in New Mexico, Arizona, Nevada, and Utah.

All tent caterpillars are fuzzy, not smooth, and they lack the large tufts of hair at either end that some other caterpillars have.

They also all have either a stripe, multiple stripes, or a broken line of splotches on their bodies.

Because they all look different and there isn’t one defining physical characteristic to distinguish them from other caterpillars, it’s easiest to identify tent caterpillars in general by the characteristic tents they make, and the damage they do to trees.
A close up horizontal image of western tent caterpillars in a nest.

The nests they create are made out of silken strands that emerge from their heads, and they are usually formed in the crotches of tree branches.

The nests start out small and compact in the spring. As the season progresses, the tents grow in size, and they become more loosely woven as they gradually deteriorate due to wind and rain exposure.
A close up vertical image of a large eastern tent caterpillar nest on a tree.

They also look creamy white in the beginning of the season, but they gradually take on a brown hue as they fill with excrement.

By the way, in case you were picturing a tent made out of silk fabric, their nests are actually more similar in appearance to stacked layers of silken hammocks.
A close up horizontal image of a silky nest of eastern tent caterpillars pictured on a soft focus background.

These pests are voracious eaters, chewing up foliage as they crawl along the branches of the trees.

You’ll notice leaves with ragged edges or defoliated branches at first, followed by the entire tree being defoliated in extreme cases.

Interestingly, as the caterpillars crawl around the tree, they leave a silken strand behind them.

If one finds a good branch full of big, juicy leaves, it will leave the thread intact so that its fellow larvae can follow the thread to a nice meal.

But if it goes down a branch without much to eat on it, the caterpillar will sever the thread so that other caterpillars don’t waste their time looking for food there.
A close up horizontal image of tent caterpillars on an apple tree pictured on a soft focus background.

In other words, not only do they create communal housing, but they help each other to find food as well. They’re real team players!

Sometime in the middle of summer, the caterpillars mature fully and leave the nests to pupate, at which point the silk nests fall apart.

Some people group webworms (Hyphantria cunea) into the tent caterpillar category, but they’re different insects. Webworms create a loose nest in the ends of the branches of trees, rather than in the crotch of branches.
A close up horizontal image of a webworm nest on foliage pictured on a soft focus background.

Webworms are also active in the summer and fall rather than the spring.

Anyways…

All of the trees were dying and these borg-like critters were replicating faster than shit.

And we all were trying to kill them off by burning their nests.

And yuppur. I go that job.

So I got a long pole, and attached a gasoline soaked rag at the end, held with wire, and lit it, and started burning off all the nests. Of course, my mother and sisters didn’t want to have anything to do with this nasty task, and my brother always made himself scarce when the job needed to be done.

Such is life.

Don’t you know.

Well, I did the nasty job and forgot all about it. But I’ll tell youse guys one thing. Sometimes a man gotta do what a man’s gotta do.

Nothing that I “signed up for”, but an ugly task that needed to be done.

Today…

What was Joseph Stalin like as a person?

He was a monster. A computer, with very little empathy.

Stalin was known for his strong memory and intelligence, which he used in diabolical ways. Stalin never forgot an insult and remembered everything.

He had spies planted everywhere, and he always knew what was going on one way or other.

A typical day in his life consisted of getting a list of names of thousands of people, and meticulously spending hours deciding who lives and who dies. A strike through meant that they are too be spared. A small cross at the margin sent them to their deaths.

He even killed people right across the hallway of his Dacha.

Here is what his secretary told about Stalin

Stalin said -” I will dictate you my text. You don’t dare make a single mistake, not even a comma or a letter. If you make a spelling mistake or express things badly, then you will be fired immediately.”

Lenin wrote in his will –

Stalin is too coarse and this defect, although quite tolerable in our midst and in dealing among us Communists, becomes intolerable in a Secretary-General. That is why I suggest that the comrades think about a way of removing Stalin from that post.

Interestingly, he was very frugal by nature and didn’t want any riches or luxury. But there was 1 thing that he wanted completely, and that was Absolute power.

He had a two faced personality, and could appear warm as well. But people around him would disappear one by one.

Later Stalin’s wife saw the monster that he was.

And she left him forever.

Then, Stalin lost any humanity that was left in him.

Between July 1937, and November of 1938, he has had 800,000 Russians executed.

1,500 victims per day, one every 57 seconds.

He also kills away her family members one by one.

After the genocide, he put all the blame on the chief of the secret police, Nikolai Yezhov who carried out Stalin’s dirty work.

He calls him a rat, a bloodthirsty renegade. He accuses him of having murdered hundreds of innocent people behind his back,and of being a spy on payroll for the British, the Germans and the Japanese. He even charges him with being an alcoholic, a degenerate and a sodomite.

Finally he has Yezhov tortured and executed.

Also there’s this story.

After his wife’s death, he stayed almost completely isolated.

The only person who knew him closely was his maid- Valentina, an illiterate woman with no interest in politics, and who took care of him daily.

But as karma would have it, he had a fitting death, and suffered in a way that befit his actions.

On March 1st,1953, Stalin shut away in his office, did not appear for the entire day. He had had a major stroke, and there was no one to help him.

His agony lasted five days.

His entourage didn’t dare disturb him. When at last the Kremlin courier entered the office, he found Stalin unconscious, lying on the floor, drenched in urine.

Stalin died the same way that he governed, alone in his office.

China Full Retaliation Begins: US Imports Canceled, Severe Export Cuts, USD Asset Sell-Off Next

What are your views on China slapping 34% reciprocal tariffs on US products?

It was virtually instantaneous

This gives me the impression that the Chinese have made their decision that they won’t lie down and take anymore nonsense from the US

Our friend Shun Bot who seems to have Disappeared from Quora would be pleased

My belief is China has already mapped out a worst case scenario for their exporters and estimated 60% and even 100% Tariffs to the US and re calibrated their calculations

Why China hit the US immediately

I think China finally decided to challenge the mantle of the US, as the second largest economy and decided to respond as a show of force to Trump

The Public in China are absolutely firmly behind Xi and China and they want to defeat the US now.

The Chinese have had enough

Whether they win or lose in the end, they are going to fight and come hard after the US

Iphone expensive

The Chinese made Iphone would now cost $ 1,390 in the US against $ 1,120 while the Indian made Iphone would cost $ 1,376

Had India not had a 27% Tariff, Indian Iphones would have been $ 1,152 Or around $ 238 cheaper

A Vietnamese Made Ipad would cost $ 1,041 instead of $ 849

If the Ipad relocated to India, it would cost $ 1,139 because of the 27% Tariffs and $ 942 without Tariffs

Within China – the Iphone would cost 10,079 RMB instead of 9999 RMB due to a 80 Yuan tariff on a particular import from US that costs $ 32.50

US Beef & Poultry expensive

Chicken Breast from a US Importer would now cost 26.65 Yuan for 300 Grams retail against 18.42 Yuan from other importers

Pharmaceutical APIs and Drugs

US has exempted all Pharmaceutical Drugs from any tariffs until 31/5/2025 until further review

However China can impose an Export Duty of 34% on 5 Key APIs needed for Alzheimer’s Patients, Hunting patients, Parkinson’s Patients, Dementia Patients & BPD Patients

That could raise the cost of a drug from $ 126 a dose to $ 177 a dose or $ 204 extra per month

70% Immunotherapy drugs are sourced from Chinese material and their cost could rise from $ 1000 a dose to $ 1470 a dose which could mean $ 7,000 extra for a patient

Services

China is a net exporter of goods to the US but holds a $ 39.85 Billion deficit in SERVICES

This means US sells services worth $ 40 Billion more than China sells services to the US

If China imposes a 34% tax on US based services, then Iphone users could end up paying an average of 55 Yuan a month on Tariffs or 660 Yuan a year which they don’t have to pay with Harmony OS

Microsoft retail users could pay 454 Yuan a year in Tariffs and Corporate users can pay 1,970 Yuan a year per license

US Financial services could be forced to pay an optional 34% on profits

I think China has decided enough is enough

They are tired of being attacked all the time and their people expect action!!!

Yesterday the markets crashed by 1600 Points and there was a panicked $ 647 Billion sell off , highest daily sell off since Enron

Part of it was due to China’s salvo

Its Game on regardless of the final outcome

Michio Kaku: “What We Found Inside the UFO Drone Shot Down by a Man Is TERRIFYING”

Fiction, I believe.

How do you picture your future?

Like this?

Hope not.

Do British people understand that if they came to America to work and settle here they too could have nice things like three meals a day, gas, electricity, a nice car, a big house, and indoor plumbing?

My wife and I left New Zealand in ‘97 for her post-doc in Denver, Colorado. Very soon we were living the American Dream: her work was going well, I had started up my own business in Boulder, and we’d put money down on a place halfway between our respective places of work.

The future looked great, and we prepared to build a family.

Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold then happened to walk into their local high-school and kill a lot of Americans.

We knew the family of one of the youngest victims.

We waited for change. This, surely, wouldn’t be allowed to happen. Things would change.

Wouldn’t they?

We left in 2001 for Europe.

You can keep your freedom, your money-for-death healthcare system and your nice things like three meals a day, gas, electricity, a nice car, a big house, and indoor plumbing. We have all that here, plus ABSOLUTELY no fear that we’ll meet a FREEDOM LOVING nutter who exercises their 2nd amendment.

Bubble Up Skillet Dinner

Yield: 6 servings

Ingredients

1 green bell pepper, coarsely chopped
1 red bell pepper, coarsely chopped
1 small onion, chopped
2 garlic cloves, pressed
16 ounces seasoned pork or beef taco meat
1 (10 ounce) can red enchilada sauce
1 cup frozen corn, thawed
1 1/2 cups refrigerated prepared masa (dough) for tamales

Instructions

Chop peppers and onion with Food Chopper; set aside.
Place seasoned beef in Large (10 inch) Skillet. Cook beef mixture over medium-high heat 10-15 minutes or until meat crumbles and begins to brown. Remove skillet from heat; carefully drain fat.
Add peppers, onion, corn and garlic pressed with Garlic Press to skillet. Stir in enchilada sauce; mix well using Mix ‘N Scraper(R). Gently drop 12 level scoops of prepared masa mixture using Medium Scoop on top of meat mixture. Cover skillet with lid.
Return skillet to stove top. Simmer over medium-low heat 14 to 16 minutes or until masa is slightly puffed and begins to set. Remove skillet from heat; place on Silicone Hot Pad/Trivet.
Serve immediately using Nylon Spoon.

Nutrition

Per serving: Calories 370, Total Fat 2g, Saturated Fat 8g, Cholesterol 65mg, Carbohydrates 65g, Protein 18g, Sodium 300mg, Fiber 4g

Attribution

Pampered Chef

“BE CAREFUL! United State Will Not Save You…” – Jeffrey Sachs’s Last WARNING

Speaking pure truth.

Nutri Inc.- 2183

Cecilia Englishby

His Majesty, King Willforth the Second of Engalsea, Master of the European-Islands, The Grand Regent of the Dependencies, Baron of the Dessert Lands, Lord of the Caribbean North, and Prince and Great Steward of the Unclaimed Empire, sat before the comfort of a roaring fire in the Royal media room; waiting for The Family to finish dinner. He hadn’t turned on the lights, wanting to remain alone as long as possible.Willforth had left them halfway through the third course, too anxious to eat any more. Without ceremony he pushed aside a delicate plate of bone china, containing partially consumed quail, asparagus and wild rice, and left the room.Johnathan Jacob Rush, the most virulent Voice of The People yet, would finally give The People exactly what they needed; the Stability and Peace of Royal Order.Willforth hated the man, but had to admit that Rush touted his trash with flare. The People listened to him.“Two whiskeys! Neat!” He commanded of a room in shadows; an unseen valet scuttled to acquiesce.He poured over the data within the folder, not noticing the drinks silently being deposited next to him. Flicking through the contents, settling on the carefully crafted speech they had edited and returned to Rush earlier in the day. He read each line carefully, looking for flaws but found none.He unwillingly recalled the headlines contained in the spread of newspapers delivered earlier.**Rush Hour after Curfew – JJR to beat the Clock at Nutri Inc. Live this Friday @ 22:00.** **Nutri Inc. on the Stand – Rush to Expose All in Rush Report – 20 Sep 2183**Thinking of them just annoyed him. He’d seen them and approved them as appropriate material for the sanctioned opposition. Just enough to get them all excited. Yet, he now considered them too brash and questioned his decisions.“Leave us.” The firm voice of a woman used to being obeyed disrupted his reverie. A handful of servants bowed and curtsied out the door. Willforth glanced up at his Heir and eldest child with hidden pride. She appeared regal this evening.She made her way to the drinks cabinet behind him, and he listened as she loaded a drinks-cart with liquor, mixers, ice, fruit and an assortment of snacks for the evening. She parked it behind her seat, sat down and took up the whiskey he had ordered for her; taking a sip, she exhaled contentedly.“Relax father.” Her voice was trained silk. “You’ve executed every move perfectly.” She gestured at the speech in his hands. “It’s a masterful blow; not only to Rush, but The Movement as well.”This relaxed him enough to deposit the speech back on top of some pictures of Rush kissing a woman that wasn’t his wife, and shut the folder, slotting it away in a convenient nook next to his seat.“I am glad you approve.” He offered blandly, not wanting her to see his relief.Rush was just the latest voice of descent amongst Willforth’s people, no different from the last, yet… he somehow made Willforth uncomfortable. Willforth had considered silencing him, but had opted for breaking him instead. He wanted the voice of Descent to become one of Order.“The photos brought it all together” his daughter voiced, disrupting his thoughts once more.” We’ve never been able to get anything on him before them…”“Evelyn, It took years.” He downed his glass in one gulp. She took it off him and leaned back to fill it as he spoke. “But one lucky lady managed to catch him with his pants down.” He chuckled wryly. “Old Martin told me his face went as white as sun-bleached bread when he showed Rush those photos… He said Rush actually begged!” Willforth didn’t hide his pleasure in knowing that the mighty Rush had been reduced to his knees.“He’s human after all!” Evelyn cheered. “And where there is smoke, there’s fire… I bet there are other women out there…”Willforth just smiled at his Heir, she certainly understood the value of a hefty blackmail folder.“You know; all we really need is the one true story.” He tried to sound wise. “Rush is ego driven, and has staked everything on a pristine reputation. People like that trip easily, and they fall hard.”“I suppose we could get a collection of fakes set up. If we spin the one solid bit of evidence as though he’s actually a rotting corpse of a degenerate….” The wheels in her mind were spinning. “Then Old Martin should have no problem recruiting a couple of vultures to add voices to those lies.”“That’s a good idea. If he ever steps out of line, we’ll bury him.”“Hmmm.” Evelyn affirmed through pressed lips as she took another sip of her whiskey. “Till the day that becomes necessary, his pristine reputation is Ours to utilize.”

Lights flicked on brightly as a young man stepped into the room, smiling widely at them as he did so. Willforth caught sight of the Three Blooms of The Movement pinned to his lapel and suppressed his frustration, choosing to ignore their presence instead, as he had been for weeks.

“He certainly has the Ear of The People.” He chimed.

Willforth felt he loved all his children equally, other than Evelyn of course; a King’s love for his Heir exceeds all other forms of love. However, he had to admit that his youngest son Gregory inspired nothing but contempt from him.

“Now, thanks to some indiscriminate pictures, he’s going to bend that Ear to our lips.” Gregory sauntered over to the cart and poured himself a generous portion of rum into a waiting tumbler, topping it off with cola, ice and lemon. Willforth wondered just how much of their conversation his son had heard.

Gregory’s views and opinions had darkened the wool of his character within The Family’s social circle, yet he seemed to relish his post as the Black-Sheep.

“Evelyn is not wrong. I personally think your best move was giving him full journalistic access to the labs at Nutri Inc., exactly what he wanted from the beginning.” He strolled to a chair waiting in the back of the room and flopped into it nonchalantly.

Evelyn retaliated. “Exactly why Father’s move is so brilliant! We are giving The People exactly what they wanted, not knowing their Righteous Voice is nothing but a puppet tied with Our strings.”

Willforth continued. “Need I remind you Gregory; we confiscated every scrap of footage from his team that day? He left with our approved content only. The Censors were efficient.”

“Thank you, father.” Gregory replied through a chuckle. “But tell me; is that marionette really all that well strung?”

Willforth didn’t get a chance to respond; his Queen had entered, his remaining children filing in behind her. They were closely followed by the six highest ranking members of his Council; Finance, Energy, Tech, Food, Medicine and Entertainment. The servants reappeared to serve them all drinks as they caught up on how each other’s interests were fairing, only really caring as their own were inextricably linked to theirs. The Queen took her seat opposite her husband near the fire, once settled; the rest of the room found and took their allocated seats as well.

Willforth nodded at Evelyn, satisfied that The Family were present. She rose dutifully and looked at the servants. “Leave us, and close the door firmly on your way.”

She locked the door behind them and dimmed the lights; grabbing the remote from the side-table, leaving the door key in its place. Evelyn switched on the HoloScreen. An advert of Nutri Inc.’s latest beef flavored protein burgers materialized within the room. It was almost time.

The advert faded and Willforth found himself staring at the self-satisfied and smug face of Johnathan Jacob Rush. Willforth found joy in knowing it was just a facade. That perfect face wearing his forties with ease was nothing more than a shiny little arrow resting in a Royal quiver.

For fifty minutes, The Rush Report ran as scripted; officially approved reports followed officially approved interviews.

Then at last, the reason they had gathered at all this evening, finally dawned…

“I think we’ve all waited long enough”

Rush opened in honeyed tones.

“The curfew’s in force, and you my enlightened audience, have nowhere else to be. For the next ten minutes, you have nothing else you need to do… The kids don’t need to be in bed yet… the droids can deactivate themselves…”

Willforth felt himself leaning in a bit, hoping no one noticed.

“I promised you all that I would get into Nutri Inc.”

Rush leaned in towards the camera conspiratorially, as if in response to Willforth’s unwitting invitation.

“That, I would show you the Truth. Well, I have finally delivered!”

A hollow backing track followed Rush’s words. Willforth smiled as the effect cheapened the delivery.

“So, without further ado, I will take you on my journey!”

More canned applause rang through the sound-system.

“Before I begin, can I just say thank you to the lovely employees who made my time at Nutri Inc. so memorable.”

Sanctioned videos of staff blended over his words as he faded from the projection; smiling faces working productively at their stations, lab technicians loading petri dishes on official looking shelves.

“As we all know, Traditional farming has been impossible for over a century.”

Rush didn’t miss a line. Willforth felt captivated and wondered how Rush’s magic was working for his audience this evening.

“Resources that once sustained nations diminished as our population grew. Land that once maintained the relevant agriculture to feed us had to be sacrificed for essential infrastructure; schools, hospitals, entertainment complexes, roads, housing… you get the picture.”

The same ancient pictures children saw in the history books took shape before them. Satellite images of Earth showing the ever expanding industrial footprint of human activity, concrete and smoke gradually creeping outwards, spreading and choking the planet as the glorious greens and blues faded into obscurity.

“A new solution in maintaining the supply of nutrition was urgently needed. Nutri Inc. provided us with that solution.”

His words were perfectly complimented with a motivational crescendo of music.

“They have since been the leading supplier of all our nutritional needs.”

Controlled pictures of the most common supplements and food items solidified and faded through the display.

“I suppose we all know these, don’t we?”

The HoloScreen image had locked on a picture of Nutri Inc.’s most profitable product; a large bottle of Nutri-Tabs.

“Just one tablet contains all your dietary requirements for an entire day, and works best with plenty of water.”

The journalist droned on in the background about the technical specifics as more images approved by Royal Decree emerged before them. The details were rather tedious as Rush discussed everything from sifters, funnels and the rapid flow of the conveyors taking large quantities of chalk to be mixed with the very best nutritional additives that science had to offer. Pictures flowed harmoniously to support each statement of efficiency and consideration, just as designed.

He leaned back and sighed as Rush moved into the segment on meals. He listened as he enthusiastically discussed how the Government had ensured that everyone could eat at least one complete Nutri-Meal a week, and how it was perfect for the hasty pace of modern life.

“As you can tell, I had a very busy and informative day!”

Willforth made himself comfortable as he recognized Rush was nearing the end. His favorite part was coming up. The part he inserted on the page himself.

Rush was leaning back in his seat with a tired smile on his face. Willforth smiled in reply, eager for him to continue.

“For years now, I’ve been telling all of you that our Royal rulers have been lying to us.” Rush hesitated for several seconds, as if unwilling to continue, but then appeared to pull himself together awkwardly.

“Sorry folks…”

He chuckled, averting his eyes like a child who’s found he’s been caught short.

“It’s just… it’s not easy to admit when one has been fooled, you know?”

Willforth considered it a nice touch of recovery as Rush continued his recitation.

“For years, I have been laying accusations at Nutri Inc.’s door, at many doors if I am to be truthful. I told you they were drugging us, keeping us enslaved. That the most powerful industries weren’t actually operating separately, but together to keep us complicit and numb.”

Another pause, but much shorter this time… it added to the drama of the moment and Willforth felt a sense of victory swell in his chest as Rush’s delivery brought life to his dictation.

“I told you that Tech and Entertainment control what you see and do; that Medicine and Food work together to keep you locked in a cycle of dependency. I’ve mocked how Energy supports them all, and how Finance owns them all. And I’ve mocked you, my audience, by cautioning you that our addiction to this incestuous system would keep us under thumb….”

Another silence followed these words, Rush had averted his eyes, this time just as instructed.

“Yet, my fervent outcries of injustice only fanned the flames of chaos. I never wanted anyone to get hurt…”

Rush had looked up at the camera with sincerity. Willforth was impressed with the journalist’s performance.

“I promised that if I was wrong… I would admit as much, and that I would apologize; Live, to you all; begging forgiveness from my knees.”

Willforth waited, his heart fluttering.

“Did you know that our King still eats actual food? Like, from slaughtered animals and gardens?”

Rush had delivered a rather blunt broadside; the room roared with panicked outcries of disbelief. Willforth emptied the contents of his mouth, spraying whiskey through the HoloScreen’s projection.

“In fact, here is a picture of the Third Course he didn’t finish this evening!”

And there it was; that spiteful quail carcass, left pecked at on a bed of rice, was staring back at him.

“How is this bastard still on the air?!! Willforth roared at the room in general, his eyes locked on his dinner.

“I don’t know father.” Evelyn rushed to the door to unlock it. But the key was not where she’d left it.

She frantically tried to pull it open, yelling for the servants to come.

“Our Royal Rulers and the Ruling Class, the One percent with all the power, eat like this every day! Not a single member of the Royal family have ever once consumed a Nutri-Tab, nor have they had to endure a full spectrum of food that all pretty much kills you. Nor the constant pang of hunger for that matter… Then one has to consider the reason we endure them at all… We, as a species, agreed to stop abusing other living creatures.”

New and unapproved pictures materialized on the HoloScreen. Richly appointed farmlands filtered through the projection matrix, blending into gardens sprawling around palaces and the most affluent areas; all sectioned off and inaccessible to the general public. In the back of the room, Gregory was howling with laughter.

Rush continued to rage at the camera, passionately exclaiming how he had been right all along.

“I confess; I never expected there to be so many ingredients!”

Pictures of substances that had been banned for centuries appeared next to the smiling faces he had thanked earlier, none of them were smiling any more.

Cinnamyl Anthranilate – (Liver Cancer!);

Coumarin – (Liver Toxicity!);

Ethyl Acrylate – (Cancer);

Rush ranted and raved as financial records started emerging. The room grew still and Willforth felt himself sink into his chair, hoping it would swallow him. They were the actual records, connected with convenient emails directly from the Medical board; they would supply these substances for use in Nutri Inc.’s products, ensuring the majority of the public had repeat medical prescriptions by the age of forty.

“You may be wondering how it is that I am still on the air?” He waved a hand and cameras pivoted, showing the studio; the entire crew and security team wore Three Blooms pinned to their lapels. Members within the tiny control office waved at the camera panning over them with obvious delight.

Finally, it turned back to Rush, and he too wore Three Blooms.

“That is because the movement is much bigger than you realize Willforth.”

The room gasped into silence, Rush hadn’t even used a royal moniker.

“If only you had considered feeding more people, this would have been harder for us.”

Rush was smiling gently, his eyes looking weary as he shrugged casually for the camera.

“Your very servants who prepare and serve you those meals haven’t even been allowed to finish your discarded plates! They aren’t coming back Evelyn.”

She had resumed her efforts in opening the door, but stopped, stepping back cautiously.

“Oh! The pictures you have of me?”

As he spoke, those same pictures materialized on the HoloScreen. They blurred into a video of the two, seated on the bed. As their lips parted, the woman removed a blonde wig to release a cascade of rich auburn hair. She got up and proceeded to remove her makeup directly before the lens of the camera. A couple of prosthetics were peeled from her face, diminishing previously highlighted features. Mrs Rush waved for the camera.

Willforth’s heart rate increased as Gregory’s laughter rang through his ears from the back of the room.

“Father?!” It was Evelyn, Willforth turned his head to see her at the window; a red glow had flushed her face. “Father, I think I see…” She stared off into the distance, her mouth slightly agape.

Willforth wanted to feel concern, but he just watched with doe-eyed apathy as Gregory joined her at the window, leaning against the frame. He had his back to his father as he laughed once more, abrading Willforth’s eardrums further. “Well Shit!” He managed at last. “Evelyn sees torches father, lots and lots of torches.”

Homeless Crisis: Middle-Class Americans on the Brink of Homelessness

Shorpy

On CAM: 200 Ukrainian and NATO Soldiers Along With 30 Units of Equipment Were Destroyed In YUNAKIVKA

Macaroon Brownie Tart

Yield: 12 servings

Ingredients

1 refrigerated pie crust (from 15 ounce package), softened as directed on package
1 (8 ounce) box fudge brownie mix
3 eggs, separated
1 tablespoon water
1/2 cup semi-sweet chocolate morsels
1 package (7 ounces) sweetened flaked coconut
1/2 cup Half-and-Half
1/4 cup sliced natural almonds

Instructions

Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
Gently unfold crust onto lightly floured surface; roll to an 11 1/2 inch circle. Press into bottom and up sides of Tart Pan using Fluting Tool to create fluted edge. Prick bottom of crust; set aside.
Combine brownie mix, egg yolks and water; mix until smooth and spread over crust using Small Spreader. Sprinkle chocolate morsels over brownie mixture.
Combine egg whites, coconut and half and half; mix well. Spoon coconut mixture evenly over chocolate morsels. Sprinkle almonds around edge of coconut mixture.
Bake 40 to 45 minutes or until edge of crust is deep golden brown and center is set.
Remove from oven; cool 1 hour.
Serve slightly warm.
Slice using Nylon Slice ‘N Serve®.

Nutrition

Per serving: Calories 320, Total Fat 18g, Saturated Fat 10g, Cholesterol 60mg, Carbohydrate 36g, Protein 4g, Sodium 200mg, Fiber 2g

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Life of Eskimo – Women Allowed to Sleep with Guests Freely – Travel Documentary

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Hog-Wild Hullabaloo

Ah, yes, dear reader! You’ve returned for yet another tale of my unmatched brilliance, haven’t you? I must admit, solving mysteries and restoring order to this farm is a full-time job, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Today’s story is one of squabbles, schemes, and a whirlwind of chaos that involved a stubborn pig, a sneaky raccoon, a meddlesome mouse, and, somehow, a donkey and a horse. It’s a tale of misunderstandings, mayhem, and, ultimately, reconciliation. Sit back and enjoy the uproarious account of The Hog-Wild Hullabaloo.

The Disagreement

It all began one sunny morning as I basked in the warmth of my favorite spot atop the barn roof. The farm was peaceful, the animals were content, and everything was perfectly in balance—until, of course, it wasn’t.

From the direction of the pigsty came the unmistakable sound of shouting. Well, it wasn’t quite shouting, but it was as close to shouting as a raccoon and a pig could manage.

“I found it first!” Rufus’s voice echoed across the farmyard.
“Found it? You were snooping in my mud pit!” Porkchop bellowed, his voice thick with outrage. “It’s MINE!”
“It was just lying there!” Rufus retorted. “Finders, keepers!”

Curious—and mildly annoyed—I leapt down from the roof and padded toward the commotion. A small crowd of animals had already gathered, including the ever-nosy hens, who were whispering furiously to one another.

“What’s going on?” I asked, weaving through the crowd until I reached the center.

Porkchop stood in his mud pit, splattered from snout to tail, glaring at Rufus, who was perched on the fence with something shiny in his paw.

“This thief,” Porkchop growled, pointing a muddy hoof at Rufus, “stole my prize turnip!”

“It’s not a turnip,” Rufus said, holding up the object in question. “It’s a gold coin! And you can’t ‘own’ a coin if it was buried in the mud. That’s treasure!”

The hens gasped dramatically. “A GOLD coin?!” Harold the rooster crowed. “What’s a gold coin doing on the farm?”

“That’s what I’d like to know,” I muttered, my tail flicking thoughtfully.
Enter Sylvester

Before I could say another word, Sylvester the field mouse scurried onto the scene, looking as self-assured as ever. He climbed onto a nearby rock to address the crowd.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, his high-pitched voice cutting through the chatter, “as an expert in shiny things, I’d be happy to examine the coin and determine its true ownership.”

“Who made you the judge?” Porkchop huffed.

“I did,” Sylvester said with a smug grin. “Because I’m the smartest one here.”

“I resent that,” I muttered, though no one seemed to hear me.

Rufus reluctantly handed the coin to Sylvester, who sniffed it, tapped it, and held it up to the sunlight. “Interesting,” he said, stroking his tiny whiskers. “This is indeed a gold coin, likely from an old stash buried here long ago. However, since it was found in the mud pit, I’d argue it technically belongs to Porkchop.”

“Yes!” Porkchop cheered, stomping his hooves triumphantly.

“BUT,” Sylvester added, holding up a paw, “Rufus technically ‘discovered’ it, which means he has a claim to it as well.”

“Ha!” Rufus said, sticking his tongue out at Porkchop.

The two began arguing again, and I rubbed my temples with a paw. “Enough!” I shouted, silencing them both. “It’s just a coin. Surely we can resolve this without—”

Before I could finish, Sylvester interrupted. “I have an idea! We’ll hold a contest to determine who deserves the coin. A test of skill, cunning, and… uh… mud-pit diving!”

“Wait, what?” I said, but it was too late. Sylvester had already scurried off to prepare the “contest,” leaving me to deal with the increasingly agitated crowd.
The Contest

By the time Sylvester returned, he had somehow roped Gerald the donkey and Buttercup the horse into his scheme. Gerald was carrying a bucket of apples, while Buttercup had a rope tied around her neck that Sylvester claimed would be used for “obstacle courses.” The hens, of course, had decided to act as referees, though their overly dramatic commentary was about as useful as a screen door on a submarine.

“All right!” Sylvester announced, climbing onto Gerald’s back. “The contest will consist of three challenges: apple bobbing, a rope pull, and—naturally—a mud-pit dive. The winner gets the gold coin and eternal bragging rights!”

“This is ridiculous,” I muttered, but no one was listening.

The Chaos Ensues

The first challenge, apple bobbing, was a complete disaster. Rufus tried to cheat by using his paws instead of his mouth, which led to Porkchop accusing him of foul play. Meanwhile, Gerald accidentally spilled the bucket of apples, sending them rolling across the farmyard. The hens chased after them, clucking furiously, which only added to the confusion.

The second challenge, the rope pull, was even worse. Buttercup accidentally stepped on the rope, causing Rufus and Porkchop to collide in a tangle of limbs, mud, and feathers. Gerald, trying to help, ended up tripping over his own hooves and landing in the mud pit himself.

By the time we got to the third challenge, the mud-pit dive, the farm was in complete chaos. Rufus belly-flopped into the mud with a dramatic splash, while Porkchop executed what he called a “perfect cannonball.” The hens, now covered in mud themselves, declared it a tie, which only reignited the argument.

The Resolution

As the chaos reached its peak, I decided enough was enough. I leapt onto the fence and let out a loud, commanding yowl that silenced the entire farm.

“Stop this nonsense right now!” I said, glaring at Rufus, Porkchop, and Sylvester in turn. “This coin isn’t worth tearing the farm apart. If you can’t settle this like civilized animals, then no one gets it.”

The three troublemakers looked at each other, then at me, and finally at the crowd of mud-splattered, exhausted animals around them. Slowly, their expressions softened.

“You know,” Rufus said, scratching his head, “it’s just a coin. I don’t even know what I’d do with it.”

“Me neither,” Porkchop admitted. “I just didn’t want him to have it.”

Sylvester sighed and waved his tiny paw. “Let’s just put it back where we found it. Maybe it’s better left as a mystery.”

With that, the three of them worked together to rebury the coin in the mud pit, and the farm slowly returned to normal. Buttercup and Gerald cleaned up the mess, the hens resumed their endless gossiping, and I finally got a well-deserved nap.

The Moral of the Story

Sometimes, the things we fight over aren’t worth the trouble. What truly matters is working together, finding common ground, and, above all, knowing when to let go—because friendship is far more valuable than any gold coin.

The End.

Are people exaggerating about the American health care system or is it that bad if you don’t have insurance?

Yes, it’s bad.

A few years back, my dad’s business had a fire. While busy dealing with the aftermath, he was 3 days late on his & mom’s health insurance.

Guess what, my mom had to be rushed to the hospital with a liver infection during those 3 days. The operation and the subsequent 1-week hospital stay cost $105,000. My sister, who was in charge of the ICU at that hospital, helped negotiated an installment payment plan to help ease the financial pain.

While my parents didn’t claim medical bankruptcy, medical bankruptcies are actually common enough in the U.S. Sometimes, even with insurance, many procedures are not covered, or not fully. Yes, and we claim to be the wealthiest country in the world. There’s something wrong with the system.

Cute Kittens AI art

My attempts at kittens and poker.

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Recent Terror Attacks Have CIA Fingerprints All Over Them! w/ Whitney Webb

Don’t Blink or We’re All Gone

John-Paul Cote

BIG IDEAZ16 February 2032YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH. I CAN’T.It is the most secret, most secure facility in the world–it’s thousands of feet under New York City. And the research being done will make us all question our very place in the universe.=========================Sindy ChenStaff Reporter, Big IdeaZMy life will never be the same. The burden of the secret I know has made me question the meaning of existence itself.Out of millions of journalists, I am the one that Project Starlight asks to come for a visit.Project Starlight. I’ve never heard of it and likely you haven’t either. You will find no mention of it in any government documents or reports. You will find no mention of it on social media. You will never find it mentioned in the darkest reaches of the internet. No conspiracy theories. Nothing. This is truly incredible because Project Starlight is working on the most important finding of all time.I exaggerate not. There is no embellishment in what I am saying. We depend on the devotion of these scientists to maintain reality as we know it.The elevator ride takes thirty minutes to reach our destination. I wish they had warned me before we started because I need to use the bathroom by the time we reach the bottom. My escort is silent all the way down, refusing to acknowledge me, never mind answering questions. The doors open to reveal a huge concrete area. It looks like a factory floor with machinery and equipment buzzing around. And behind all the action is a set of three massive steel doors. They are easily thirty feet high. Behind them is the universe’s greatest secret, I have been told.We approach the guard post, controlling the doors. My escort and I hand over our security cards and asked to place our faces in an oval mold. I’m told not to move for my retina scan, and they sampled my DNA from my breath to confirm who I am. The guard nods that we cleared.With that, a voice comes over a loudspeaker telling everyone to stand back as the doors rotate open. They are at least twenty feet thick with cylinders that interlock them. There is no force in the world that could make those doors move unless they want to.I am met by an old friend. Dr. Brandon Hawkins and I met at Brown University. I was studying journalism while he was in Theoretical Physics. He smiles, says how long it’s been since we’ve seen each other, and gives me a big hug. I ask him why I’m here. It’s obvious not to catch up on old times.

“I’ve invited you here to blow your mind,” he says.

Brandon waves off the escort and guides me through the doors. I am at a loss to describe what I see. As Brandon tells me, the glass corridor we are walking through is taking us through the middle of “The Machine”, which he says in a solemn and yet mocking tone. There are tubes, wires, lights, and who knows what else I can see. There is one tube that catches my eye. It contains a pulsing light that rushes along it. Brandon tells me it generates the field that protects us from the reality of our situation.

The reality of our situation? What does that even mean?

US Recession Shock: USD Crashes, US Retirement Savings Meltdown, Importers Eat The Tariffs

We blew past a “Recession” and now we are on a speed-boat towards a full-on Depression.

“I have invited you here to blow your mind.”

“It will all be clear in a few minutes,” he says. Despite the complexity of what they do down here, the explanation, he tells me, is simple enough but takes time to believe.

After an hour’s tour of the facility, Dr. Brandon and I reach the control room.

This is where it gets real.

Brandon introduces me to the research and technical team. They all look at me in awe, as if I am an extraterrestrial or perhaps a movie star. Out of the crowd, one woman approaches. Dr. Avery Moore.

“This is an incredible event, meeting you finally,” she says.

More and more, I feel this is not just a visit for me as more of the team members come forward and introduce themselves like they are meeting a rock star. I’m not sure how to take this.

This is when Brandon asks if I want a seat. They have something to tell me. I take the offered seat because it feels like I am about to be told God exists and here he is.

I wish that was what they tell me.

“Over thirty years ago, a group of researchers working at a lab in Los Alamos, New Mexico discovered a disturbing pattern,” Brandon started. “The world seemed to blink out of existence, then come back. No one was aware of this non-existence. And it happened regularly. The way they discovered it was with microscopic variables in their quantum measurements. Variables at the smallest levels they could observe at the time and, since then, observed even further down into the quantum realm.”

The crowd of scientists and technicians continues to stare at me in awe. I shift in the chair uncomfortably as the attention is beyond unnerving.

“What we have found since then is that the existence we believe in is a lie. Reality is a relative thing. It depends on one factor and one factor alone.”

Brandon stared into my eyes, telling me he was being honest and open about what was being said.

“That one factor is you.”

I don’t know how to respond. It sounds like the most ridiculous thing in the world.

“This planet, this galaxy, this universe, and everything in it did not exist until you were born.”

“This planet, this galaxy, this universe and everything in it did not exist until you were born.”

I check to see if I’m asleep or dreaming. I then check for exits. If everyone believes this, then they are the craziest group of people I have ever met. I have interviewed god-like dictators, world-ending cultists, and flat earthers. This beats them all.

“I know. It sounds insane. Beyond insane, but it is true. Before you, there was nothing. Before your first conscious moment, there was no existence. Now all of reality only exists when you are conscious. Every time you go to sleep, whether it’s grabbing a quick nap or a good night’s sleep, everything disappears. There is only you and a void until you wake up again and everything returns.”

Insanity, pure insanity.

“It’s all true. Our past, our present, every star, every planet, every particle exists because you do. Our work here is simple. We want to ensure that reality will continue to exist once you,” he pauses, looking for the right words, “pass on. Right now, once you are dead, we and everything for billions of light years in space and time will disappear forever.”

I blink. People seem to jump for a moment as if they believe what Brandon is telling me.

“Don’t worry, that pulsing light you saw when you came in, that’s a field that we have created that separates us from you. In here, we do not disappear when you lose consciousness for whatever reason. Our goal is to extend this field either indefinitely or collapse it around you. Until then, you could go out tonight, choke on a peanut, and it’s all over for everything from the quantum level on up to the universe.”

It’s then I notice the two large digital clocks running in the room. One is counting up and the other counting down.

“The one counting up is your current age. The one counting down is the estimated amount of time you have left in your life. That’s our deadline and we are so close to reaching our goal.”

How did this all happen? How can it be true? What about my mom? Didn’t she give birth to me? She must have existed before me.

“What we have unravelled so far is that you merely can into being. You were never born. That is, what we call, Permanent Transient Construct. At the moment of creation, your subconscious created a mother that gave you birth, a father that had sex with your mother, vocations or careers that they had, an extended family, people, nations, the world, the universe, and history to fill it all in. As you have grown older, your subconscious has created more of this PTC. The problem is that your conscious mind is maintaining this construct. Thus, when you go to sleep, it all stops because your conscious mind stops. We and everything else disappear and it creates a void. Not even nothing, an actual void where even nothing is not real. You wake up in the middle of the night and suddenly we are back. You fall back to sleep, and we are gone again. We do not notice this because your subconscious fills in the parts we need.”

If they have kept me in the dark this long, then why tell me about this now?

“Because the risk levels of your activities have increased significantly over the last year. The countdown clock has decreased. The meter we have measuring risk factors and the chances of you dying early has gone into the red. You have entered a kind of midlife crisis where you are questioning yourself and then challenging yourself to make you feel alive. We had little choice but to bring you here and tell you the truth.”

It was hours and maybe days that Brandon and his team show me the evidence. I refused to believe it until I finally did.

Everything exists because I do. Unlike what many people think, I am the centre of the universe. The centre of reality. Time, space, and the consciousness of trillions upon trillions of beings are all because of me. Every atom, every particle, all of it. It’s me.

This is a lot of pressure to put on someone who is only thirty-eight years old. It is taking time to adjust to my responsibility, but I am.

I don’t know how long I will be down here in Project Starlight. I have now agreed to stay safely confined so that you and everything else may be. Brandon and his team tell me they could be mere months away from finding the solution. Until then, I will stay here until the world is truly safe from me.

Women’s Boobs EXPLODE After COVID Vaccine, Many Women Report Vaccine Causes BOOB GROWTH

Ugh. Not fake news…

What is China’s current fighter jet production capacity across all facilities?

China has several dedicated aviation manufacturing plants, the most important of which are the Chengdu Aircraft Industry Group and the Shenyang Aircraft Industry Group. These facilities are not only responsible for the production of fighter jets, but also involve related research and development and testing work.

As of mid-2024, China’s J-20 fighter production has exceeded 300 aircraft, indicating that China has already achieved considerable scale and capability in the production of fifth-generation fighter aircraft.

China’s fighter research and development has undergone a transformation from imitation to independent design, especially in the integration of stealth technology and avionics equipment. The J-20 is considered a fifth-generation fighter jet that meets international standards and has strong stealth capabilities and combat performance.

China is actively developing the next generation of fighter jets, which are expected to have more advanced technology and stronger combat capabilities. The development of these new fighter jets will further enhance China’s air combat capabilities and military projection capabilities.

China’s fighter production capabilities have shifted from the imitation stage of the past to independent research and development and production, and have strong technical strength and production scale.

Aromatic Chicken Curry (Vietnam)

Ingredients

2 medium-size potatoes, cut into chunks
4 tablespoons peanut oil
8 shallots, minced
4 stalks fresh lemon grass, minced
3 garlic cloves, minced
2 fresh hot red chiles, minced
2 tablespoons best-quality curry powder
1 pound skinless, boneless chicken breasts, chopped into bite size pieces
1 teaspoon sea salt or 1 teaspoon fish sauce
1 (14 ounce) can coconut milk
1 (14 ounce) can chicken broth
Fresh basil leaves

Instructions

Fry the potato chunks in the oil until nicely browned, then drain them on paper towels.
Add the shallots, lemon grass, and all of the spices to the pan, and stir-fry for a few minutes.
Add the chicken and cook, stirring, until it is opaque.
Add the potatoes, salt, coconut milk and chicken stock. Bring to a boil and then simmer gently for about 30 minutes.
Garnish with basil leaves before serving in bowls with rice.

Wife About To Be Outed After Husband Learns She Didn’t Pay For Nursing School By Traditional Means!

When the sexy under-carriage sounds go a bumping under our television set

Here’s a story about sex noises from beneath our television set.

Now, the time was in a mobile home park in Kokomo, Indiana.

It was a fairly well-maintained complex, all in all, and we lived close to a neighbor who was a single mother. She had a 16 year old son and a 14 year old daughter. They were all nice.

The teenagers were… well, typical teenagers.

Well, from time to time, we would hear sex noises. But could never ever figure out where they came from.

Now the walls in a mobile home were paper thin. I mean it. They were made out of cheap materials, often paper products. So yeah you could hear anything.

And from time to time we would hear heavy breathing. Low moaning, and a couple scuffling sounds.

Initially we thought it was just cats or rodents that moved in under the mobile home. But sometimes the sounds were unmistakable. Yeah. Some one was a having sex … somewhere. Couldn’t figure out where though…

Well, it wasn’t like the noise continued all the time.

It came and went. Maybe once every two weeks or so.

Nothing to worry about.

Then nothing for a few months.

My wife then got to talking with our single-mom neighbor. And why her kids were no longer living with her.

What had apparently happened is that the 16 year old boy (from one father) was having sex with his 14 year old sister (from another father). And they got caught and separated from each other.

Now the boy, and the girl were both willing participants. But since both were underage, it was a rape / incest event. Taking place in our mobile home park. And many times under our mobile home.

Apparently, the girl or the boy, would pull aside our trailer skirting, get underneath our mobile home, and go at it like rabbits under our living room.

Here’s what mobile home skirting looks like…

The kids would pull it aside, and crawl under the house.

We had cheap vinyl skirting. Not the composite skirting in the pictures above. For, after all, this took place in the late 1980’s.

Gerald Ford was President (I think). Maybe Regan. But before Clinton. That’s for certain.

LOL

Anyways, that is what happened, they would open up the skirting, Get under the trailer. Pull down their pants and hump like there’s no tomorrow.

In the muddy grass under our living room.

…

Mystery solved.

No judgement. Life in a Indiana trailer park in the 1980’s.

Real life drama…folks.

Sheech!

I don’t know much more than that. She moved away a month or two later. And that, was that.

Life is strange and colorful.

Today…

Tariff That DESTROYED the American Economy in Just Weeks

Learn some history. Not a bad video. Learn something.

Layered Chicken Mole Bake

Yield: 8 servings

Ingredients

12 (6 inch) corn tortillas, cut into halves
8 ounces cooked, boneless, skinless chicken breasts, coarsely shredded(2 cups)
1 medium green pepper, chopped
1 cup frozen corn, thawed
1 cup canned black beans, rinsed and drained
1 cup prepared mole sauce
6 ounces Chihuahua cheese, grated (1 1/2 cups), divided
1 plum tomato, seeded and chopped
2 tablespoons fresh cilantro, finely chopped
Sour cream (optional)

Instructions

Heat oven to 400 degrees F. Lightly spray bottom and sides of Springform Pan with vegetable oil using Kitchen Spritzer; set aside. Cut tortillas in half using Pizza Cutter; set aside.
Coarsely chop cooked chicken and green pepper using Food Chopper. Combine chicken, green pepper, corn, black beans and mole sauce in Classic Batter Bowl; set aside. Grate cheese using Deluxe Cheese Grater.
Arrange 8 tortilla halves in bottom of pan. Top with 1/3 of the chicken mixture and 1/2 cup of cheese. Repeat layers 2 more times using remaining ingredients.
Bake 18 to 20 minutes or until cheese has melted. Meanwhile, core tomato using The Corer(TM). Finely chop tomato and cilantro using Utility Knife. Remove pan from oven; place on Simple Additions(TM) Medium Square. Run releasing tool around sides of pan. Release and remove collar from pan. Sprinkle tomato and cilantro over top of tortilla bake.
Cut into wedges using Chef’s Knife.
Serve immediately with sour cream, if desired.

Notes

Substitute 1 1/2 cups shredded Mexican cheese blend for Chihuahua cheese.

In a hurry? Substitute cooked rotisserie chicken (available in most supermarkets) for boneless, skinless chicken breasts. Depending on its size, a roasted chicken can yield 4 to 6 cups of chopped chicken.

Nutrition

Per serving: Calories 440, Total Fat 21g, Saturated Fat 8g, Cholesterol 60mg, Carbohydrates 42g, Protein 22g, Sodium 1210mg, Fiber 7g

Attribution

Pampered Chef

In which technological sectors has China achieved complete independence from US suppliers?

Let’s instead talk of sectors where China is still dependent on Critical Processes Or Core Technology Or Mother Machines Or Key High Grade /Advanced Components – on the US Led Collective West (Includes Japan)

That’s easier because China has broken free of the West in several areas over the many years

#1 Commercial Aviation

- Aircraft Body (Composite Materials)
- Aircraft Commercial Engine (GE & Safran)
- Navigation Equipment

China has achieved Indigenous production in Landing Equipment, Wheels & Tyres, Aircraft Body (Duralium),Wind Tunnel & Cabin Pressurization Equipment

#2 Computing Applications

- Advanced Chips (3 nm to 5 nm Architecture)
- GPU Chips
- Coating Materials
- Optoelectronics
- EUV Technology (2 nm to 7 nm)
- DUV Technology (7 nm to 14 nm

China has achieved fully indigenous integration of Chips >= 28 nm and Lithography Machines >= 28 nm

#3 Robotics

- Advanced Lenses & Optical Sensors (Zeiss)

China has achieved Indigenous supply chain in everything else including Battery, Separators & Microcontroller Design and Manufacturing

#4 Pharmaceuticals

- Antiviral RNA Base Materials
- Fourth Generation Inhibitors
- Interferons
- Immunomodulators
- Taxanes
- Hormone Preparations
- Gene Sequencers

#5 Healthcare

- Optical Equipment including Lasik Equipment
- Advanced Scanning Equipment

China has commercialized its own MRI Machines, PET Scan Machines, Ultrasound Machines & ECMO Machines

These are the areas where China has decided to spend 3 Trillion Yuan ($ 400 Billion) including 1 Trillion Yuan just for the Computing Sector in the next 5 years

Some areas where China achieved Total Independence from the Western Technology between 2005–2025 were in :-

A. Aerospace

B. Green Energy

C. Radar Technology

D. Ramjet Engines, Thruster Engines

E. Stealth Materials

F. Gyroscope Control

G. Guided Control, Avionics & Electronics

Chinas achievements in the last 15 years (2010–2025) have been nothing short of spectacular

They have broken the chokehold of the West in 7 Key Sectors

They had already broken the Chokehold of the West in Nuclear Power Generation, Cybersecurity & Advanced Computing Software between 2005–2020

main qimg 554f8918ac12807c9c108719a4051e10

Xi has targeted 2035 by which to fully achieve Independence in all areas plus dominance in the areas of

Artificial Intelligence, Quantum Computing, Aerospace & Cloud Dominance

My Girlfriend Dumped Me Without Any Real Explanation, How Do I Become The Guy That NEVER Happens To?

Are Chinese & Japanese Aryans in any way? Or Were they Aryans hundreds or thousands of years ago?

Around 1278–1245 BC, the Aryans invaded China.

Fu Hao, the wife of the Shang king Wu Ding, led an army of 15,000 and defeated them.

All the captives were killed.

This was recorded in Chinese oracle bones; in 1976, Chinese archaeologists found Fu Hao’s tomb and confirmed this record; they also unearthed the bones of Aryan captives.

Normally, captives of war would be treated as slaves.

But these captives were all killed. Because these Aryans looked different from the Chinese; Fu Hao thought these people were ghosts, not people.

Exclusive

Chris Miller

“Rufus! Come in. We loved your latest piece on the migrant situation in the Mediterranean. You’re really broadening the horizons of the readers of the Post.”

“Our readers already have pretty broad horizons.”

“Of course they do. They read the Post!”

Rufus sat in a windowless room, empty apart from the plastic chair that he sat on, opposite a man in a white polo shirt and khaki pants. The man wore a lanyard with an empty transparent I.D. wallet and a pen hanging from it. Rufus lived for information, and had almost none. Introductions seemed to be the place to start.

“I’m Rufus Kenton from the Washington Post, and you are?”

“Yes! I am. And you are too, Rufus. Both of us present here today. Thank you for coming along. We love your work and we were very keen that it be you who got access to our facility.”

“Ok. Who’s we? I’m going to assume you’re an agent. May I record this?”

“Record away, Rufus.” The voice was avuncular Texan. The speaker, tightly bald and leather cheeked, leant forward to rest his elbows on his knees. His pen swung on its lanyard and clicked against the cheap plastic seat. Had muscle gone to fat, or was it just undercover? Either way, the man was two of Rufus.

“C.I.A?” said Rufus, keeping his words to a minimum and letting his eyebrows do the heavy lifting.

“I used to be in the C.I.A.,” said the man. The crows feet at his eyes went up a shoe size. “Still am. But I used to be too!” he sat back in his chair grinning. It creaked as he folded livestock arms.

“And you’ve invited me here to work on your tight five-minute stand-up set?” said Rufus, clicking his own pen and opening his note book.

“Relax, Rufus. We love journalists these days, we brought you here so we can work together. We’re on the same side.”

“I’m an independent journalist. I’m on the side of truth.”

“And justice and the American way?” said the agent with a gentle frown of sincerity.

“Sure, but truth comes first. So, what is this place?”

“This, Rufus, is the most secure lab in the world. A football field of razor wire in every direction, anti-drone fields, automated sniper turrets. This place has its own F35 guard dog on round-the-clock standby. It has a bunker from the nineteen fifties which has been pimped with some tech which is still going to look pretty damned impressive in the twenty fifties.”

“Why?”

“Exactly! I knew we had the right man for the job. Anybody in their right mind would ask why, and you, Rufus, are going to tell them.”

“I’m going to tell them the truth.”

“Of course you are. That’s your job. Which theory of truth do you currently subscribe to?”

“Truth, reality, I’m going to tell people what I find here today.”

“Oh, we’re counting on it. Now, I’m a plain old correspondence theory man myself. The truth arises from the correspondence of language, thought and such like, to a mind-independent world. Seems like our world is more mind-independent than ever! Am I right? Ha! Nah, Veritas est adaequatio rei et intellectus – Truth is the adequation of things and intellect; Isaac Israeli via Aquinas.”

“Nice to know they’re teaching Latin at Langley.”

“Surprised? You don’t think they keep me round just ‘cos I can kill a guy with a pen, do you?”

Against his better judgement, Rufus liked the guy. So what if he really could kill him without breaking a sweat? Rufus was not octagon material; it was not that impressive a boast. But Rufus was no coward, so it was not much use as a threat either, if that’s what it was, and not just another joke, not that the two things were mutually exclusive. In conclusion, Rufus just shifted uncomfortably in his chair and looked down at his notepad.

“Relax! I’m only joking,” said the man. “I wouldn’t need a pen. Are you ready to take a look around?”

Rufus had had a bag over his head since he got in a chopper of the roof of the building he’d been told to report to. It had not been removed until he stood outside the room he was now in and he had no idea how much time had elapsed, how far he had travelled or in what direction. He could have been in one of half a dozen states, maybe seven, maybe eight or nine if you counted irritation and confusion, states he seemed to visit with increasing regularity. He was ready to take a look around.

“Let’s go.”

The corridor outside the room was lit by a thin arboreal glow of emergency lighting. The agent walked ahead of him, fleetingly green as they passed under the long passage’s evenly spaced exit signs. After what Rufus judged to have been about a minute, time measured by his unacknowledged humming of The Fugs’ C.I.A. Man, they reached an unmarked door. To Rufus’s left a dark space with a tiny exit sign floating in it, marking the invisible length of a perpendicular corridor. The agent saw Rufus looking to his left at the tiny eye-test of an exit sign.

“No, it’s in here,” said the agent, opening the door and disappearing through it. Rufus followed him into a room which was industrially dark.

“So, you promise to write about what you find here?” asked the agent.

“Certainly,” said Rufus.

“Good! We need it out there. We need the internet full of it. We need…”

“You’re going to get the truth, whether it’s what you need or not. But I guess it would be easy enough for you to silence me if you wanted to? You could do it here and now, with your pen,” said Rufus to a black absence where he imagined the agent might be standing.

“No! No, no, no, Rufus.” The voice came from the opposite direction to the one in which Rufus had pointlessly turned his head. “It’s not like that at all. And anyway, like I said.” The voice now came from behind him. “I wouldn’t need a pen.”

Rufus peered into the black, trying to breathe steadily and control a heartrate that evolution was attempting to increase with every second spent in the vulnerability of sightlessness.

“Now, Rufus, write the truth if you want, but please try and appreciate that in my business it’s really the value of information that matters, regardless of whether it can be proven to be true or not.”

“Surely information is more valuable if it’s true? We have to confirm if things are true.”

“Well, ah, Rufus. So, y’know Socrates, right?”

“I know of him.”

“Well one day one of Socrates’ buddies runs up to him and…”

“Ah Jesus, come on, man.”

“One of his buddies runs up and says, ‘You’ll never guess what I heard about Diogenes.’”

“Just turn the lights on.”

“’Whoa!’ Socrates replies, ‘You gotta pass the Triple Filter Test first,’ and his buddy’s like ‘Triple filter?’ and Socrates is like, ‘I’m going to filter what you say. The first filter is truth. Are you absolutely sure that what you are about to say is true?’ and his buddy’s like, ‘Maybe, dunno, just heard it.’ And then Socrates is like, ‘Ok, possibly not true, so filter two, the goodness filter. Is what you are about to tell me something good?’ and his buddy gets a bit flustered and he’s like, ‘Nah, pretty bad actually.’ And so, Socrates is like ‘Mmhmm, third test; is this information going to be useful to me?’ and his buddy’s pretty embarrassed by now and he’s like, ‘Well, no, not really.’ So, Socrates is like, ‘So you were going to tell me something that might not have been true, good, or useful. Why tell me or anyone else such a thing?’ and the guy’s feeling pretty bad and he realises this must be how come they say Socrates is so wise…”

“And it also explains why Socrates never found out that Diogenes was banging his wife.”

“You heard it! Ha! You do understand.”

“Just turn the lights on.”

“If I do, you’ll see the truth, but not the value. We need you to create the value, Rufus. That’s what you’re here for. We need information out there. Lots of it. Generated from this beautiful big resource magnet of a lab. It doesn’t have to be true, it doesn’t have to be good, but whatever it is, it’ll be useful and it’ll be ours. And it’ll be a good reason for all of our less enthusiastic supporters to keep their eyes on this place, instead of anywhere less convenient.”

“Please just turn the lights on.”

“This room is completely empty, Rufus. I can leave the lights off so you can’t see anything, or I can turn them on, so you can see nothing. Either way, you’re reporting the same truth. You want ‘em on?”

“Please.”

“Happy writing, Rufus.”

An analogue clunk announced a staccato strobe and the room bounced in and out of existence before settling into its vast reality. Rufus stood alone in an echo-ready hall. It was completely empty.

The Americans Are Making a HUGE Mistake About China

Absolutely each word is a treasure!

What are some things you learned while running your first marathon?

26.2 miles is a long way to run
Halfway isn’t halfway
Lubricant, in all the right places, is your best friend
Even a soft sports vest can be like sandpaper to unprotected nipples after 20 miles of running, sweating and rubbing
I would look into buying cushioned socks with specific left and right feet
Trainers with plenty of room in the toe area are a must
You need to hydrate before you feel the need to: little and often is best
If you’re running on carbs (as opposed to a fat-adapted diet), take gels, sweets and other carb-fuels well before you feel the need to. In fact schedule them in
The first 18 miles are easy; it’s the last 8 that make it a marathon
Without proper training, including plenty of long steady runs, the last 8 miles can feel like 30
Running into a slight headwind at mile 23 can feel like pulling a truck
The urge to stop can be utterly overwhelming in the final few miles
You don’t lose that much time by walking for a while, if you really need to. Just don’t stop completely or you’ll have trouble moving again, and then you’ll lose a lot
A cheer, even from a random stranger, can revitalise you, helping you find some energy within, when you thought it was all but gone
In spite of it being hard, I learned that I could actually do it
Finishing a marathon is an emotional affair: expect to cry at the finish
It wouldn’t be my last

Who were the Sullivan Brothers? Why are they important?

Originally Answered: Who were the Sullivan Brothers? Why are They important?

The 1930’s – it was the time of the Great Depression. With jobs scarce and tensions rising in Europe and the Pacific, many Americans turned to the military for employment. Because of the times, it was quite common for family members to enlist together and serve in the same infantry unit, or aboard the same ship. It made for a “touch of home” in an otherwise “non-homey” environment.

But this practice sometimes led to tragedy, none more tragic as was painfully demonstrated with the sinking of USS Juneau (CL-52), which killed all five Sullivan brothers. This was one of the incidents – but by no means the first – that led the United States to implement the Sole Survivor Policy.

Gold Star flag

The five Sullivan brothers, sons of Thomas and Alleta Sullivan of Waterloo, Iowa, were:

George Thomas Sullivan, 27, Gunner’s Mate Second;

Francis Henry “Frank” Sullivan, 26, Coxswain;

Joseph Eugene “Joe” Sullivan, 24, Seaman Second Class;

Madison Abel “Matt” Sullivan, 23, Seaman Second Class;

Albert Leo “Al” Sullivan, 20, Seaman Second Class.

The brothers joined the Navy to avenge the death of a friend, Bill Ball (their sister’s boyfriend), who was serving aboard the USS Arizona, when he was killed on December 7, 1941. The irony here is that Masten Ball, Bill’s brother, was also on the Arizona but survived – more on that…

The Sullivans enlisted January 3, 1942, with the stipulation that they serve together. In mid-1942, the Navy promulgated a policy of separating siblings, but this policy was not strictly enforced by any means. George and Frank had served in the Navy before, but their brothers had not. All five were assigned to the light cruiser USS Juneau.

During the naval Battle of Guadalcanal (November 13, 1942), Juneau was crippled by a Japanese torpedo. As Juneau was leaving the area with other surviving US warships, IJN submarine I-26, fired two torpedoes at the crippled heavy cruiser USS San Francisco. While they both missed their intended target, Juneau wasn’t so lucky. A torpedo hit the thinly armored light cruiser at or near the ammunition magazines, and the ship was instantly blown in half. Where seconds before a 541-foot-long cruiser had been, now there was nothing but an enormous cloud of smoke and debris. The Juneau disappeared from view and sank in less than 20 seconds.

Captain Gilbert C. Hoover, the senior officer of the US task force, doubted that anyone had survived the explosion and believed it would be reckless to look for survivors, for doing so would expose his wounded ships to a lurking Japanese submarine. Therefore, he ordered his ships to continue on towards Espiritu Santo, but Hoover had USS Helena signal a nearby US B-17 bomber on patrol to notify Allied headquarters to send aircraft or ships to search for survivors.

And there were survivors, approximately 100 of them. Unfortunately, the crew’s report of the location of possible survivors went unnoticed for several days before it was realized that a rescue mission had never been ordered. A belated air search began. During this time, the survivors of the sinking – many of whom were wounded and burned – were exposed to the elements, hunger, thirst, and shark attacks.

Eight days after the sinking, ten survivors were found by a PBY Catalina search aircraft and fished from the water. The survivors reported that Frank, Joe and Matt were all killed instantly, Al drowned the next day, and George survived for nearly a week, before suffering from delirium as a result of ingesting sea water. He climbed over the side of the raft and fell into the water, never to be seen again. In all, 10 men survived the sinking, but 687 did not.

Two months later, Tom and Alleta Sullivan were finally informed of their sons’ fate. That morning, as Tom was preparing to go to work, three men in uniform – a lieutenant commander, a doctor and a chief petty officer – approached his door. “I have some news for you about your boys,” the naval officer said. “Which one?” asked Tom. “I’m sorry”, the officer replied, “All five.”

The five Sullivan brothers – from left to right: Joe, Frank, Al, Matt, and George

The Sullivans were not the only brother sailors on board the ship. Records show at least thirty sets of brothers served on the Juneau. All died.

Even more astonishing were the 38 sets of brothers that served on the USS Arizona – including three sets of three brothers and a father-son set. Of the 79 siblings onboard the Arizona, 63 were killed and 23 complete sets of brothers were wiped out. Of the three sets of three brothers: the Beckers, the Dohertys, and the Murdocks, only one from each set survived, while the Warriners were the only set of USS Arizona brothers to survive. Of the father-son set, Thomas Free, and his son, William, both perished. The USS Oklahoma had 8 sets of brothers, including a set of three, the Barber boys. All three of the Barbers died at Pearl Harbor.

But the USN did not have a monopoly on siblings serving together, at the same time, same unit, or same theater of operations. Before the Sole Survivor Policy was officially implemented in 1948, several occasions occurred when sole survivors were excused from active service:

The Borgstroms, of Thatcher Utah, were four American brothers (including a set of twins) killed over a six-month period during World War II:

Clyde Eugene Borgstrom, 28, killed March 17, 1944, in Guadalcanal, U.S. Marine Corps;

LeRoy Elmer Borgstrom, 30, killed June 22, 1944, in Italy, U.S. Army;

Rolon Day Borgstrom, 19, killed August 8, 1944, in Yaxham, England), U.S. Army Air Forces;

Rulon Jay Borgstrom, 19, killed August 25, 1944, in France, U.S. Army.

Their parents successfully petitioned for their fifth son Boyd, who was also on active duty, to be released from service. Their sixth son, Elton, who had not yet reached conscription age, was exempted from the military.

The three Butehorn brothers of Bethpage, New York, Charles, Joseph, and Henry, were all deployed during World War II. Charles was killed in action in France (November 1944) and Joseph was killed in action in the Pacific (May 1945). The War Department ordered Henry, who was serving with the USAAF in Italy, home.

In the case of the Niland brothers, G-2 believed that all but one of four siblings were killed in action (although the eldest brother, Edward Niland, serving in the USAAF, was later found to have been a POW in Burma). Steven Spielberg’s film “Saving Private Ryan” was loosely based on the story of the Niland brothers.

The Borgstrom, Butehorn, and Niland stories occurred before the Sole Survivor Policy was put into effect in 1948, but it’s their stories, and the stories of the siblings killed on the Arizona, along with the 60 sibling deaths of the crew of the Juneau – which included the five Sullivan brothers – that pushed the services to actively enforce of Sole Survivor Policy.

Per Wikipedia:

“The Sole Survivor Policy or United States Department of Defense Directive 1315.15 (a.k.a. “Special Separation Policies for Survivorship”) is a set of regulations in the United States military, partially stipulated by law, designed to protect members of a family from the draft during peacetime, or from hazardous duty or other circumstances, if they have already lost family members to military service.” However, the policy does not prevent the excused family member from reenlisting.

——————————————————–

Coming full circle to close our story, on Saturday, March 17, 2018, the wreckage of the USS Juneau was discovered off the coast of the Solomon Islands by the expedition crew of RV Petrel:

USS Juneau, March, 2018

May all your shipmates rest in peace

The Daily Shorpy

How do you think the US and China negotiations on fentanyl trafficking will turn out?

Question: How do you think the US and China negotiations on fentanyl trafficking will turn out?

Answer:

Nothing will come out of it.

Because the entire “China and fentanyl” thing started from a single post back in 2018 from a Mexico port about how they suspect a shipment from China contains fentanyl precursors materials.

For the chemistry illiterate, any material that goes into making actual fentanyl family of drugs can be called precursors. An extreme example will be water can technically be count as a fentanyl precursor because water is used in most chemical manufacturing process.

And I bolded the “suspect” part because later the Mexico site took down their post, because the Chinese reacted immediately after the possibility of drugs. If those that don’t know, China has one of the most strict drug laws on the planet, so any time there is a possibility of drug smuggling, there is a huge investigation towards it.

However, US government seized the (now taken down) post from Mexico as a life line to explain away the rampant drug problem within US. Apparently it has nothing to do with the whole drug infested culture in US since the 19th century, it is all China’s fault.

So the talks will result in nothing. Both China and US government already know China has nothing to do with the issue. The entire thing is a show for US voting audience.

Americans Have LOST ALL FAITH in the Job Market, and Don’t Want to Work Anymore.

The Biosphere Project

Jillian Puckett

Stepping out of her car, Sarah adjusted her notepad and checked her camera equipment. She was prepared to document every detail, determined to expose any wrongdoing that may be lurking behind the lab’s fortified walls. A security guard approached her, scrutinizing her identification before finally granting her access.

Inside the facility, Sarah was guided through a maze-like corridor, taking note of the reinforced doors and surveillance cameras at every turn. The atmosphere was tense, with scientists in white lab coats scurrying about, engrossed in their work. The air carried a distinct smell of chemicals, hinting at the complex experiments being conducted.

Her guide led her into a spacious laboratory filled with state-of-the-art equipment. Sarah’s eyes widened as she observed the rows of high-tech machinery, each with its own purpose and intricate design. She struggled to comprehend the magnitude of what was being developed here.

Dr. Rachel Lawson, the lead researcher, greeted Sarah with a warm smile. “Welcome, Sarah. We’re delighted to have you here today. I hope you’re ready to witness something truly groundbreaking.”

Sarah reciprocated the smile, her curiosity piqued. “Thank you, Dr. Lawson. I’ve heard so much about the work conducted here. I’m eager to know more.”

“Follow me,” Dr. Lawson said, leading Sarah toward a sealed chamber at the far end of the laboratory. The security measures surrounding it were seemingly impenetrable, indicating the significance of whatever lay within.

As they reached the chamber, Dr. Lawson scanned her identification card, and the heavy doors hissed open, revealing a sight that left Sarah speechless. Inside the room was a massive enclosure containing a lush, verdant landscape. Towering trees, vibrant flowers, and a winding river coexisted within the glass walls, creating an ethereal oasis in the midst of the sterile lab environment.

Sarah’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What is…? How is this possible?”

Dr. Lawson beamed with pride. “Welcome to our Biosphere Project, Sarah. We have developed a revolutionary system that replicates entire ecosystems within a controlled environment. It’s a breakthrough in sustainable agriculture and biodiversity conservation.”

Sarah’s mind raced, realizing the potential impact of this discovery. “This could change everything! The possibilities for food production and environmental conservation are immense. Why hasn’t this been made public?”

Dr. Lawson’s expression turned somber. “The project was classified due to the potential misuse of such technology. We wanted to ensure its safety and ethical use before revealing it to the world.”

Sarah’s journalistic instincts kicked in. “But what kind of misuse are we talking about? Are there any risks associated with this project?”

Dr. Lawson sighed, her eyes reflecting a mixture of concern and responsibility. “There are several potential misuses we have considered. One of the key concerns is the possibility of using the Biosphere Project to create controlled environments for the development of dangerous biological weapons. The ability to sustain life within enclosed ecosystems could be exploited to cultivate and engineer deadly pathogens, posing a grave threat to global security.”

Sarah’s mind raced, realizing the magnitude of the situation. “So, the secrecy surrounding the project was to prevent such misuse?”

“Yes,” Dr. Lawson confirmed. “In the wrong hands, the Biosphere Project could unleash unimaginable devastation. We had to ensure that the technology was fully developed, with safeguards in place, before considering its release to the public.”

Sarah’s journalistic instincts kicked into high gear. “Dr. Lawson, the world deserves to know about this project. Its potential benefits are immense, but the risks must be brought to light as well. We need transparency to prevent any clandestine misuse.”

Dr. Lawson nodded in agreement. “You’re right, Sarah. We have been deliberating on the best way to strike a balance between sharing the breakthrough and addressing the risks. We understand the importance of public awareness, but we must also proceed with caution.”

Sarah contemplated the situation, realizing the weight of responsibility that rested on her shoulders. She knew she had the power to expose the truth, but she also had to be mindful of the potential consequences. After a moment of reflection, she made up her mind.

“Dr. Lawson, I would like to collaborate with you on this. Let us work together to devise a plan that ensures the responsible disclosure of the Biosphere Project. We must inform the public about its potential benefits and the risks it carries. By doing so, we can foster a global dialogue and ensure that this groundbreaking technology is used for the betterment of humanity.”

Dr. Lawson’s eyes shimmered with gratitude. “Thank you, Sarah. Your willingness to approach this with caution and responsibility reassures me. Together, we can make a difference and shape the future of this remarkable project.”

Over the following weeks, Sarah and Dr. Lawson collaborated closely, carefully crafting a strategy to share the story of the Biosphere Project with the world. They engaged in extensive discussions, consulting with experts in various fields, assessing the potential risks and benefits, and establishing frameworks to ensure the technology’s responsible use.

Finally, the day arrived when Sarah’s exposé on the Biosphere Project was published. The article detailed the groundbreaking technology, its potential benefits for sustainable agriculture and biodiversity, and the risks associated with its misuse. It ignited a global conversation, prompting governments, scientific communities, and environmental organizations to come together and establish regulations and oversight mechanisms to safeguard the technology’s ethical use.

The public’s response was overwhelming. Many were captivated by the possibilities the Biosphere Project presented, while others expressed concerns about its potential risks. Yet, the conversation fostered by Sarah’s article allowed for a balanced and informed dialogue, leading to a collective commitment to responsible innovation.

As time progressed, the Biosphere Project was gradually integrated into society, with stringent regulations in place to ensure its ethical use. It revolutionized agriculture, enabling sustainable food production in regions affected by droughts, extreme temperatures, or limited arable land. It played a crucial role in conserving endangered ecosystems, allowing scientists to study and protect fragile species within controlled environments.

Sarah’s collaboration with Dr. Lawson continued beyond the publication of her groundbreaking article. The two worked tirelessly to address the concerns raised by the public and to refine the regulations governing the Biosphere Project. They became advocates for responsible innovation, traveling the world to speak at conferences and engaging with policymakers, scientists, and environmentalists.

Their efforts led to the establishment of an international committee dedicated to monitoring and regulating the use of biosphere technology. This committee consisted of experts from various fields who worked together to ensure that the Biosphere Project was used solely for peaceful and beneficial purposes.

Under the committee’s oversight, the Biosphere Project flourished. It continued to enhance food production and conservation efforts, transforming arid regions into thriving agricultural centers and contributing to the preservation of endangered species and habitats.

Sarah and Dr. Lawson’s collaboration also sparked interest from other scientific communities and research institutions. They began to share their knowledge and expertise, collaborating on similar projects around the world. This global collaboration further advanced the field of biosphere technology, expanding its applications and ensuring that the benefits reached far beyond the walls of the original research facility.

As the years passed, the Biosphere Project became a symbol of responsible innovation and the power of transparency. The public’s trust in the technology grew, and the regulations and oversight mechanisms put in place served as a model for other groundbreaking scientific advancements.

Sarah and Dr. Lawson’s efforts were recognized with numerous awards and accolades. They were hailed as pioneers who had not only uncovered a remarkable breakthrough but had also navigated the delicate balance between progress and caution.

Sarah’s experience with the Biosphere Project had a profound impact on her as a journalist. She realized the importance of responsible reporting, understanding the potential consequences of revealing groundbreaking technologies without careful consideration of their risks. She became an advocate for responsible journalism and used her platform to raise awareness about the ethical implications of scientific advancements.

Dr. Lawson’s dedication to the Biosphere Project never wavered. She continued to lead research and development efforts, ensuring that the technology evolved responsibly and with the utmost regard for the environment and humanity’s well-being.

The legacy of the Biosphere Project lived on, not only in its contributions to sustainable agriculture and conservation but also in the lessons it taught about responsible innovation. It served as a reminder that groundbreaking discoveries could shape the world positively, but their potential risks must be addressed proactively.

Sarah Mitchell and Dr. Rachel Lawson’s collaboration became a symbol of the power of partnership and the importance of ethical decision-making in the face of groundbreaking scientific advancements. Their story inspired countless others to approach innovation with responsibility, shaping a future where progress and humanity’s welfare walked hand in hand.

False Flag For War in South Korea Coup

Carl Zha speaks to ‪@JamarlThomas‬ about insane details coming out of South Korean coup investigation including allegations of South Korean military to stage a false flag attack against South Korean Parliament.

This was apparently done in order to provoke a military confrontation with North Korea in order to justify imposing Martial Law.

And this is why South Korean Parliament have impeached the President and Acting President of South Korea

What is the most chilling missing persons case you have ever seen?

Let’s not get into the “ever” part simply because I’m a cop.

we, the cops, see things every day that trump whatever we’ve experienced before. Human dignity keeps hitting new lows for reasons I can’t even begin to comprehend.

Just three days ago, we arrested a guy because we suspected he might have something to do with the sudden disappearance of his cousin, a young, well-off businessman who had seemingly vanished into thin air. The suspect, a butcher, was the last known person to have been in contact with him according to the investigation.

main qimg 075c0711bfcc2c5e02223381158581d1

During questioning, he confessed.

He had called his cousin over to his house and, once he arrived, shot and killed him. The motive? Money. Plain greed.

If you’re wondering where the chilling part is—come on. Isn’t murder already a gruesome and chilling act on its own?

Well, here’s where it gets worse. After killing his cousin, the suspect dismembered the body, put the pieces in a very large karahi (wok), and melted them over a fire using chemicals. Once the remains had turned into liquid, he discarded it in an empty plot.

So, that was just three days ago. By no means is this the most chilling case, but what a disgraceful disregard for human life.

A continuous, soul-draining pattern of evil people doing unspeakable things.

Hawaiian Chicken Wreath

Ingredients

2 (8 ounce) cans refrigerated crescent rolls
1/2 cup mayonnaise
3 tablespoons honey mustard
1/2 teaspoon coarsely ground black pepper
2 cups (about 12 ounces) cooked chicken, chopped
1/2 cup celery, sliced
3 tablespoons fresh parsley, snipped
1/2 cup pineapple slices (about 4 slices), + 2 for garnish
4 ounces (1 cup) Cheddar cheese, shredded
1/4 cup macadamia nuts chopped
1 egg, separated

Instructions

Heat oven to375 degrees F.
Unroll crescent dough; separate into 16 triangles. With wide ends of triangles toward the center, arrange 8 triangles in a circle on Large Round Stone. Corners of wide ends will touch and points will extend 1 inch beyond edge of Baking Stone. Arrange remaining 8 triangles in center, matching wide ends. Seal seams using Dough and Pizza Roller. (Points will overlap in center; do not seal.)
Measure mayonnaise, mustard, and black pepper into Classic Batter Bowl. Chop chicken, using Food Chopper. Slice celery using Chef’s Knife. Snip parsley using Kitchen Shears. Add chicken, celery, parsley, and pineapple to Batter Bowl. Grate cheese into Batter Bowl using Deluxe Cheese Grater. Mix filling using Mix ‘ N Scraper®. Using Medium Scoop, scoop filling over seams of dough, forming a circle.
Coarsely chop nuts using Food Chopper; sprinkle over filling. Beginning in center, lift one dough triangle across mixture. Continue alternating with outer triangles, slightly overlapping to form wreath. Tuck last end under first.
Separate egg over Small Batter Bowl using Egg Separator. Beat egg white lightly; brush over dough, using Pastry Brush.
Bake 25 to 30 minutes or until golden brown.
Cut and serve using Slice ‘N Serve®.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Great Rutabaga Ruckus

Ah, dear reader! Welcome back to another chapter in the illustrious chronicles of yours truly, Sir Whiskerton, the farm’s finest (and let’s face it, only) detective. Today’s tale is one of high stakes, scandalous accusations, and a vegetable so prized that its disappearance had the entire farm in an uproar. Yes, I’m talking about Farmer Joe’s prized rutabaga. This particular root vegetable was not just any rutabaga—it was destined for the county fair, where it was sure to win first prize. Its sudden disappearance rocked the farm to its core, and the case brought together an unlikely team of suspects, allies, and more mud than I care to recount. Prepare yourself for The Great Rutabaga Ruckus.

The Disappearance

The morning began with a commotion so loud it rattled the barn walls. I had just settled into my favorite sunbeam for a mid-morning nap when I heard Farmer Joe yelling from the garden.

“MY RUTABAGA! IT’S GONE!”

I sighed, stretching as I reluctantly rose to my paws. A missing vegetable. Hardly the kind of case that gets my pulse racing, but then again, life on the farm is rarely boring. I trotted over to the garden, where Farmer Joe was frantically searching through the rows of vegetables. The prize rutabaga’s spot was empty—just a small pile of disturbed soil where it had once proudly rested.

“Scandalous,” I muttered to myself. “Who would dare commit such a heinous crime?”

It wasn’t long before the rest of the farm animals had gathered to speculate. Among them were Porkchop the pig (looking suspiciously sweaty), Rufus the raccoon (looking suspiciously smug), and Sedgwick the barn owl (looking suspiciously calm, as always).

The Accusations Begin

“I’ll tell you who took it!” Porkchop declared, pointing a muddy hoof at Rufus. “It was him! That sneaky raccoon can’t resist stealing food. Everyone knows that!”

“Me?!” Rufus exclaimed, clutching his chest as if he’d been mortally offended. “I didn’t take your precious rutabaga! I’m not even a root vegetable kind of guy. Too earthy. I prefer sweet stuff, like berries… or honey.”

“Don’t look at me,” Porkchop huffed, his snout twitching. “I don’t even like rutabagas. Carrots, now that’s a different story, but rutabagas? No thanks.”

“Hmm,” Sedgwick said, perched on a nearby fence post. “Both of you seem eager to deny your involvement. Curious.”

“Do you think I took it?” Porkchop squealed. “I’m offended! I’m a pig of integrity!”

“Integrity? Please,” Rufus snorted. “I saw you sniffing around the garden yesterday, looking awfully interested in that rutabaga.”

“That doesn’t mean I took it!” Porkchop snapped. “I was just admiring it!”

“Enough,” I said, stepping forward and flicking my tail for emphasis. “This bickering isn’t helping. If we’re going to solve this mystery, we’ll need to investigate properly.”

The Investigation Begins

I started by examining the scene of the crime. The soil where the rutabaga had been planted was freshly disturbed, and there were faint marks in the dirt leading away from the garden.

“Tracks,” I said, crouching low to inspect them. “But they’re too small for Porkchop’s hooves and too wide for Rufus’s paws.”

Sedgwick swooped down from his perch to examine the tracks more closely. “These appear to be bird tracks,” he said thoughtfully. “Perhaps a goose or a large duck?”

“Could it be Gladys the goose?” I wondered aloud, remembering her flair for drama from our last adventure.

“She does have a talent for causing trouble,” Sedgwick admitted. “But let’s not jump to conclusions. We should follow the trail.”

The Trail Leads to Trouble

The tracks led us through the orchard, where Rufus took the opportunity to climb a tree and snack on an apple. “You know,” he said between bites, “if I had taken the rutabaga, I wouldn’t have left such an obvious trail. Whoever did this isn’t very good at being sneaky.”

“Or they didn’t care about being sneaky,” Sedgwick countered. “Perhaps they assumed no one would investigate.”

“Can we focus, please?” I said, my patience wearing thin. “The tracks lead to the barn. Let’s see what we find there.”

As we approached the barn, Porkchop began to look increasingly nervous. “Uh, you don’t think the thief is in the barn, do you? What if it’s… dangerous?”

“Dangerous?” Rufus laughed. “We’re looking for a vegetable thief, not a monster.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Porkchop muttered. “You’re not the one who has to sleep in there.”

The Culprit Revealed

Inside the barn, the tracks led us to a pile of hay in the corner. Sedgwick flapped onto a nearby beam for a better view, while Rufus and I cautiously approached the haystack.

“Something’s moving in there,” Rufus whispered, his eyes wide.

“Only one way to find out,” I said. With a swift paw swipe, I pulled back the hay to reveal… a family of rabbits!

The rabbits froze, their eyes wide with guilt. In the middle of their little nest was the missing rutabaga, half-eaten and surrounded by bits of straw.

“Well, well,” I said, arching an eyebrow. “It seems we’ve found our culprits.”

The largest rabbit—a scruffy fellow with one floppy ear—stepped forward and bowed his head. “We’re sorry,” he said. “We didn’t mean to cause trouble. We just… we couldn’t resist. It smelled so delicious, and we were so hungry…”

Sedgwick, ever the voice of reason, spoke gently. “While stealing is not the answer, I understand your plight. Perhaps we can find a solution that helps everyone.”

The Resolution

After some discussion (and a lot of clucking from the hens, who had somehow arrived to witness the drama), we decided to let the rabbits keep the remaining rutabaga. Farmer Joe, though disappointed, agreed to plant extra vegetables next season to ensure there was enough for everyone—humans and animals alike.

As for Porkchop and Rufus, they begrudgingly apologized to each other for their accusations, though I suspect their rivalry is far from over.

“I still think it’s suspicious how much Porkchop likes to hang around the garden,” Rufus muttered.

“And I still think you’re too sneaky for your own good,” Porkchop retorted.

“Enough, you two,” I said with a sigh. “The case is closed, and justice has been served. Let’s all try to get along, shall we?”

The Moral of the Story

Sometimes, misunderstandings can lead to unnecessary conflict, but with a little patience and understanding, even the biggest disagreements can be resolved. And remember: sharing is always better than stealing—even if it’s a prize rutabaga.

The End.

Prof. John Mearshimer Claims That It’s Too Late for the United State to Come After China

Its cold in them those Winter Steel Mills

I used to work in a steel mill, I wrote about this earlier. But what I didn’t write about is what it was like.

Today, I want to talk about, a little perhaps, about what it was like in the Winter while being in a steel factory.

Guys… imagine this; it’s cold out and everything is frozen.

And you have to go out to the mill and count the “steel rings” loaded on the pallets.

And so you dutifully put on your steel-toed boots.

Don your hard hat, and put on your coat and go out into the plant.

And you go into the warehouse.

Snow is drifting in through the wide open garage doors.

Pallets upon pallets of steel.

And you know what… they are thermal sinks. They retain the temperature.

If it is hot, it is hotter inside the factory.

And if it is cold, it is FROZEN inside the factory.

Frozen.

Not only cold, but my poor feet were surrounded by the steel protective gauntlet inside the boot. My toes were always frozen. OMG!

It was always PAINFUL.

This is just a simple sample of what it is like working for a living as a man in a factory.

It’s not about the dirt, the grease, the constant berating, and the life-threatening working environments.

It’s also about the discomfort.

Going into that mill was like spending hours in Siberia. I kid you not.

Now, guys, sure I spent much of my time in the offices, but you just gotta go out and deal with the product directly. And that is often a harsh environment. Whether it is steel in a freezing cold warehouse, a hot automobile engine broken down at the side of the road, a maze of pipes in a massive cracking facility in the desert, or a water side testing contraption.

You have to go there and deal.

Not all of us can sit at desks in an office, drink coffee, and talk crap.

Some of us gotta deal with it.

My rant for today. Have a good one, you all…

Why don’t we fight China now? Won’t China become stronger the longer we wait?

Is this question asked by Americans?

Let me answer this as a Chinese.

If you want to fight, then fight, don’t talk nonsense,

If you don’t want to fight, don’t keep talking slanderously and blaming China for whatever you want.

I don’t know if this kind of shrewish behavior of swearing in the streets and speaking ill of people behind their backs is the attitude that a world-class hegemonic country should display.

If you don’t believe it, you can take a look at the remarks and attitudes of the official media of China and the United States.

For a long time, China’s official media never reported any negative news from foreign countries. Now, although it has begun to report, it is all based on objective facts.

Isn’t the sole task of the news media to report correct and credible news?

In my opinion, the American media habitually spreads rumors and fabricates fake news.

I want to say that you can correctly report all negative news in China. For these news, you can find relevant reports from Chinese domestic news media with just a few clicks of your fingers.

You don’t have to report any positive news about China. But please don’t spread rumors, slander, or make a fuss.

This will make you look very low and not the posture that a world’s most powerful country should display.

As a world overlord, you should look at the world with an emperor’s mentality, not like a robber or thief.

Always looking down on the good things of others.

An emperor should have a heart that tolerates all things, takes everything calmly and unhurriedly, and has the freedom and majesty to stand high on the throne and overlook the ups and downs of all living beings.

Rather than chattering endlessly, or collaborating with Nazi garbage countries like “Israel”.

The United States has disappointed me, a Chinese, so much.

I hope you can have a true emperor’s mentality instead of like a worthless robber.

Honey Mustard Glazed Turkey Breast

Yield: 6 servings

Ingredients

1 bone-in turkey breast half (2 1/2 to 3 pounds)
1 (14 1/2 ounce) can chicken broth
1/3 cup honey
1/4 cup Dijon mustard
1/4 cup cold water
2 garlic cloves, pressed
1 tablespoon cornstarch
1 teaspoon paprika
1/4 teaspoon coarsely ground black pepper

Instructions

Heat oven to 350 degrees F. Lightly spray Square Baker pan with vegetable oil.
Place turkey breast, skin side up, into baker pan.
In small batter bowl, combine chicken broth, honey, Dijon mustard, water, garlic, cornstarch, paprika and black pepper; whisk until smooth using whisk. pour mixture over turkey breast.
Bake uncovered, 1 1/2 to 2 hours, basting every 20 minutes.
Remove turkey from oven when Thermometer inserted into thickest part of breast registers 170 degrees F.
Remove turkey breast from pan; place on cutting board and let stand 10 minutes before carving.
Pour honey mustard sauce from pan into gravy boat; thin sauce with hot water to desired consistency, if necessary.
Carve turkey into thin slices; serve with sauce.

Nutrition

Per serving: Calories 370, Fat 13g, Sodium 650mg, Dietary Fiber 0g

Attribution

Pampered Chef

John Wick does tactical shopping

What’s the life of a semi driver like? How long are they driving before they get tired? What items would I find in a semi truck?

In my 32 years as a professional driver, I have come to accept a few realities of my chosen profession,

I have a house I don’t live in
I have a car I don’t drive
I have a wife I don’t see
I have pets I don’t play with
In my 38 year relationship with my wife, I have been away from her more than with, yet our marriage has endured
I eat out of paper bags and Styrofoam boxes
I am often treated with disdain by other members of the motoring public who are ignorant of the dynamics of controlling a 70 foot long, 40 ton vehicle safely
I have been stranded on the side of the road, broken down for hours waiting for help, more times than I can remember
I have driven in freezing cold, blistering heat, wind driven rain, pea soup fog, blinding blizzards, a forest fire, two hurricanes and have done so safely
I am expected to be on time for my delivery appointments yet made to wait around for hours needlessly and inexplicably to get unloaded
My job is under the influence of man, nature, and machine. The only thing certain about this job is, there are no certainties
My peers consist of people from all walks of life, genders (I have on two separate occasions had the pleasure of spending time with a transgender and transvestite truck driver) religions, and skin colors, most of whom are chronic complainers with very poor fashion sense (multiple layers of flannel shirts??!!). Underneath it all we’re all the same, skilled professionals and we look out for our own.

And yet, at the end of the day, this is my chosen profession of which I am fiercely proud. I have no intention of retiring and intend to do this as long as I’m physically able because, what could be better than this?

Home, sweet home,

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What are the implications of a laptop saying “manufactured in China”?

All laptops are (one way or the other) made in China.

Most specifically, in the mega-city of Shenzhen and the Pearl River delta. Home of 138 million people. Compare that to the pathetic New York City with a mere 6 million people.

But I digress.

Those companies that “manufacture computers” in other nations, such as the United States are not really factories. They are assembly houses. They source parts and components from China, and then they assemble and test them in their home country. It’s a very common practice.

Now many people get confused by this.

They argue that they get their RAM from Korea, and their microprocessor from Taiwan, and their hard drive from a United States company. Which actually makes me chuckle.

All of which has components MADE INSIDE OF CHINA.

Actually, it’s one of the ways that I (personally) make money. I work with the owners, buyers and COOs of these foreign companies and arrange the manufacture to spec, and quality testing of the components that they will assemble into their products.

It’s pretty deceptive to someone to believe that they are having an American-made products, with American components when 90% of it is sourced one way or the other out of China. TRUTH.

The Best of: Jimmy O. Yang

I know what you’re thinking.

John Steckley

I Know What You’re Thinking“George, while you were in the bathroom, we received a call from the university for you.”“I hope that they don’t want to take my degree away after having a second look at the papers I wrote way back when.”“Very funny George.

This is serious.

Apparently there is a group of scientists at the university who have made what they called a great discovery. So far no outsiders know about this discovery, and they want you to interview them and observe the effectiveness of what they have invented.”“Wow.

Well I did take a first year foundational course in science when I was there, and I got a good mark, the highest mark that year for me.”“No George, they were apparently quite impressed with the article you wrote about the strengths and weaknesses of electric cars and self-propelling lawnmowers.”“When do they want me?”“As soon as you can get there.

They are quite eager to let the world know what they have discovered.”George grabbed his camera and his recording device, and sprinted out of the office, into his car, and sped down to the university.

Although it had been years since he was last on the campus, he found his way to the science building easily enough.

He was greeted on the main floor by a university security officer, and told to take the elevator to the top floor.

George was surprised by what he saw when he arrived at his destination and the elevator door opened. There were two police officers standing there, one of whom asked him whether his name was George Stanley, and did he have ID on him to prove that he was who he said he was.

He replied in the positive, took out his wallet and showed the officer his driver’s license. He was then escorted by the two officers into the room that apparently housed the experiment. Everyone in the room except for the officers, and, of course, himself, wore long white lab coats.

The one who seemed to be the leader approached him and said, “Before we explain what it is that we have discovered, we are going to demonstrate it to you, with you as the research subject.”George began to feel a little nervous at this point. The leader then reassured him that this experiment would be painless.

“I am just going to expose you to some electro-magnetic waves, that will pair up with the waves created by your brain.

What we are going to show you is our lie detector. I am pretty sure that you are about to tell me that such a device has already been developed, but it really has not.

What was previously invented is what we call a psychophysiological detector of deceptions, and it is not infallible.

It is more an intimidator that it is a detector – no intimidation, no detection.For our invention to work we have to influence a person’s brainwaves with the waves from our machine.

Now stand still. What I want you to do after I send the waves your way is to have you say what colour comes into your mind. If it is the same one that we have programmed our wave machine to send your way, then the two of you are connected. And we will be able to catch you in a lie.

Then the scientist pointed the device at him again, and there was a different tone of buzzing, followed by the word ‘brown’ resounding in his head several times.“Okay, George, what was the colour?

”After a few seconds, in which George seriously contemplated giving a wrong answer, he said “brown.”“Right! Now George, we are going to ask you a question, to which you can lie or tell the truth. We will tell you which one it is. George, are you married?”

George said that he was, and the lead scientist correctly replied with “That’s a lie”. George just nodded his head in response.

“We are now going to explain to you how it works. Let us know if you don’t understand. It is highly technical of course.”

George then asked a question, “Are you not going to de-program me first?”

The reply hit him like a hammer blow.

“Oh, we cannot do that. We tried, but could not find a way to do that, so we ended that part of the research. We feel that it would be relatively harmless to keep people programmed, as we will have absolute control of the devices. There will be no misuse.”

George recorded the explanations of different aspects of the technology, so his complete attention was on what he was learning. He had the distinct impression that when he did not quite get what they were saying, they would repeat what they had said slowly and with more explanation.

When he was about to leave, the lead scientist asks him a peculiar question. “When are you going to be writing this piece?” He replied by telling the man that he always wrote his articles as soon as he arrived at work at nine o’clock in the morning, as he was a ‘morning person’.

He gave his standard joke about that saying, “I never wrote anything intelligent in the afternoon.”

He knew from his regular reading of scientific journals that electro-magnetic waves were used to travel far into space. Travelling on earth should not then pose a significant challenge to their use.

When he got back to the newspaper office, he went straight away to talk to the editor to explain the problem he would have with writing an unbiased article on the research. The editor, whom George respected for his intelligence, particularly as it was demonstrated in his ability to write meaningful articles, presented him with a strategy that could resolve his problem.

He followed it to the letter. The next morning, at precisely nine o’clock, he first wrote an article that was solidly supportive of the research, and the researchers. Minutes after he was finished the draft copy of this piece, he received a phone call from the lead researcher, who stated that he was sure that whatever he wrote would be fine with them. He should not worry about “getting it right”.

The committee asked George whether he wanted to be a research subject, as he was one of the very few who had been programmed, the others being university students who had badly needed the money.

While he was apprehensive of the scientists ‘messing with my mind’, particularly after the critical article that he wrote, he agreed to participate as he wanted his brain purged of the effect of the waves.

When he made his return to their research room, his first words were “I know what you’re thinking.” There was an initial silence.

Then they laughed.

Joe Wong: Building A Wall Didn’t Work For China

Why do white people deny that white privilege exists?

Let me tell you how the other night, a “person of color” pointed a gun at my entire family – my husband, myself, our 3 kids 8,9,11 and my brand new 4 month old baby. That white privilege didn’t kick in though. Despite having a literal video, a license plate, witnesses – the cops have done nothing. The detective told us they see things like this all of the time with these thugs and he’d “get to it when he gets to it. But the DA might not even prosecute”.

I was shocked, considering our white friend brandished his firearm in self defense a while back, despite legally having the right to – he was ripped out of his house and had his firearm taken from him “while they investigated”

I, like the idiot I must be, assumed they would certainly go grab this animal that threatened to kill my family, immediately. Considering he was not provoked nor threatened in any way. I now have seen firsthand the privilege cops and district attorneys are giving persons of color. All to avoid having to deal with the criminals that support BLM and risk the bad press and losing a vote in my liberal shit hole state.

Comix for fun

If World War 3 happens, will America, China, or Russia be the last country to survive?

The country that survives should be China.

The nuclear weapons of the United States and Russia are superior in quantity, and most of them are nuclear warheads produced during the Cold War 40 to 50 years ago. China’s nuclear weapons are superior in quality, and many of them are new nuclear warheads produced in the past decade.

Russia’s nuclear missiles are mainly deployed in fixed launch silos, which are not very mobile and it is difficult to ensure the second nuclear strike capability. After the disintegration of the Soviet Union, Russia’s finances were not abundant, and the nuclear weapon launch system was not updated much.

The United States’ nuclear missiles are mainly deployed on nuclear submarines; the United States’ nuclear missiles are mainly deployed on missile launch vehicles. Mobility means having a second nuclear strike capability.

Broadly speaking, there is no winner in nuclear war!

Who can build more underground projects to protect more people?
Who can regain control of the territory first?
Who can rebuild civilization in the territory of nuclear radiation?

Then, who is the winner of the third world war.

The one who can’t do it is the loser.

Considering China’s huge population size and their infrastructure capabilities, as well as its preparations for nuclear bombing since the 1960s, it goes without saying who is the winner. (China has been under nuclear threat since the 1960s and has always been prepared. China should be the country with the most underground fortifications in the world.)

Even after the nuclear bomb fell, the war never ended.

The birth of human civilization is accompanied by war, and the restarted human civilization will also be shrouded in the haze of war.

Wife Wants My Forgiveness After Revealing She Had “Relations” With 50+ Guys Without Protection…

Conceal carriers, where do you put your gun when you use the restroom?

Welcome to our nightmare! The concern of having to take a shit, and forgetting one’s firearm in, say, a restaurant’s restroom is scary. I’ll explain the situation and provide a perfect solution.

Obviously, if you are a dude, and you’re taking a piss, it’s not a problem. It’s on your belt and it’s not going to be interfered with. If it’s on a duty belt and you go take a shit, it’s obviously on the belt and that’s a lot of crap, very visible and you generally hang that off the top of the stall or the bathroom door handle if it’s a single unit and odds are you have to contend with the vest as well, so that’s another reminder. (I don’t take shits wearing my vest.) The problem comes in when one has an IWB, inside the waist band type holster, which is a compact unit, which is removable from the belt, and when dropping one’s pants, it’s necessary to remove the firearm in holster from the belt. Many people simply put int on the toilet tank or counter near the sink (Most common but damn BAD PRACTICE), if there is one and sadly, some have left them there. The most publicly reported, INTERNATIONAL one was someone on some royal protection detail, left a firearm in a public bathroom, in the UK. The horror! It’s a gun! So not only are there potential legal, safety, and liability issues, it can be a career killer.

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While reading the comments about the aforementioned incident, one old cop had the simplest solution that should work well and it provides an example of WHY sometimes the best information is in the comments from readers on any subject. You put the gun, still in holster, in your underwear, which is at your ankle level. There’s absolutely no way that you’re going to miss it if you forget you have a pistol on you and thoughtlessly begin pulling up your briefs and trousers. It’s right there! It’s heavy, it’s noticeable and it’s where you have to do something and touch something to move on to the next step, as opposed to resting it on the counter near the sink, the floor, or the top of the toilet tank where you can get distracted or experience the “I gotta leave impulse we often have after taking a dump. So put it, in your IWB holster, in your briefs when you shit. This is a great solution for males and females. The simplicity matches the likely certainty of it, make it a habit and it should work out well.

A Snapchat Catfisher Is Trying To Con A Bro Out Of His Money, Let’s Help Him With A Dose Of Reality!

I’ve been catfished. Sad to say.

It happens to the best of us. Let this story be a lesson.

Take the *slaps*.

Learn.

Coconut Octopus

Khadija S. Mohammad

“Octopuses?” Thomas spluttered.The girl smiled. “Popular misconception. Logically, the plural is octopodes. Although publicly it’s still octopuses.” He rubbed the back of his head. Try to unearth the biggest scientific secret of the century, and all you end up with is a headache and a lesson in octopus plurals.“Come with me, our secret is in here.” She was laughing at him?He followed her through a wide door and into a glaring white chamber. As his eyes grew accustomed to the light he noticed boxes of blue and other bright colours dotting the room. Octopus tanks.The girl strode towards the farthest wall, avoiding the tanks and other obstacles with ease. Thomas was not so lucky; His natural clumsiness asserted itself, and by the time he stood next to her, three items were displaced, and one was broken. He was vaguely aware of a white figure glaring at his back as it cleaned up the mess.In front of them, a blank wall. The girl leaned into the wall and placed her eye in front of a hidden sensor. Slowly, the protective covering went up and what faced them was another octopus tank. “This is Hàixiū,” she said, putting her hand against the glass. Thomas spotted a small jellyfish-like shape in one corner. He pointed at it.“Yes, that’s her. Hàixiū is Chinese for ‘shy’.”A small squeak came from the corner of the room. Thomas turned and saw a silver-rimmed octopus tank with a young man standing in front of it, looking like something from a black-and-white movie. His skin was pale, almost white, and his clothes were black and grey. He squeaked at the octopus in front of him, and leant close to the tank, whispering like the breeze on a cold day. Thomas pointed at him and looked inquisitively at the girl.”Hàorán. He’s a little mad,” she explained, lowering her voice. “Ever since he came here he’s been whispering to Kuàisù, his octopus. He seems to think that Kuàisù can learn to talk.” Thomas glanced back at Hàorán and wondered…A man of about twenty walked in. “There you are Mimi. It’s time for Hàixiū’s injection.”

“Just a moment, Hui. Our journalist needs something to write about. Is it okay if he stays?” Hui nodded.

They put on gloves and found equipment while Thomas watched, occasionally glancing back at the tank. Hàixiū didn’t move.

“Turn on the Mush,” said Mimi. Thomas raised an eyebrow. “Just watch, it will explain itself.” Hui pressed a button on another wall and Thomas waited for something to happen.

Mimi pulled her gloves above her elbows and stretched her arms towards the tank. Thomas stared. Mush. Her hands just sank through it, the glass melting and moulding around them. The octopus flew – right to the other end of the tank.

“Come back here, you little monster,” Mimi said playfully. Hàixiū refused to come nearer, waiting until Mimi was just close enough to touch an arm with her fingertips before jetting away, pointing her suckers at them. And that’s what you are, she seemed to say. Not so much shy as cheeky, Thomas thought.

Hui talked while Mimi chased the elusive Hàixiū around the tank. “We take them out every day and inject them with Systimosin. It’s a kind of stimulant.”

“Got you!” said Mimi, grabbing hold of an arm and struggling to hold her still. “Hurry up Hui, she’s really strong.”

“Coming, coming.” He passed her a syringe filled with a thick, colourless liquid. “It was developed for the first time in this lab a few weeks ago. It supplies new connections in the octopodes’ brain, making it smarter. We’re also expecting it to give them a longer life span.”

Mimi injected the liquid into Hàixiū’s arm, then let go of her. “She’s developing faster than the others. They’re all developing faster than I expected.” Hui laughed.

“If you have any questions, ask Mimi. She’s the biggest octopus expert around here. I’m just the assistant.” Something is his voice – in the words he spoke? The way he spoke? – hit Thomas like a wave. He’d always been sensitive to emotions. If you don’t talk, you get to listen longer. And words aren’t the only thing you can listen to.

He put up a hand, a Wait, please sign; He wanted to write. He hoped his face would say what his hands couldn’t. He’d never been the best at polite talk. Or impolite talk.

Somehow they understood. Hui left. Mimi waited, then began walking him round a tour again, stopping at each new tank to add a special comment about the octopus inside.

“Each octopus is different,” she explained, “They each have their own personalities. This is Yonggan,” as they neared another tank where an octopus was attached to the glass. “We joke that he’s Hàixiū’s soulmate, the two are exact opposites. Yonggan is very playful; He loves new people. We expected him to develop the fastest, but Nature never makes things easy.” Thomas nodded and bent over his notebook as they walked on. “They’re each named after their most prominent traits, it makes them easier to place and helps when we forget which name is attached to which octopus.” He nodded again.

They walked on, carefully avoiding Hàorán’s corner, where he continued whispering to Kuàisù, ignoring them completely, or just not seeing them.

“Remember, this is top-secret work. No leaks,” Mimi said. Thomas rolled his eyes. I’m a journalist. Whatever I see, the public sees. Suddenly he bent over his notebook, writing something and ripping it out to show her.

“What if one of the scientists leak?” She read. “That’s simple; They wouldn’t. I would trust any one of my crew with my life. We all trust each other.” Thomas wasn’t satisfied, but he kept quiet as they moved to the next tank.

“And this is Xiaochou, the clown. You wouldn’t think that he was nocturnal, would you?” Xiaochou was currently doing octopus backflips, front flips, and side flips.

“We always use Amphioctopus marginatus, the Coconut or Veined octopus, for our experiments. We tried using other types, but Systimosin doesn’t create intelligence, it just increases what’s already there, so they either showed no signs of developing or died when we tried increasing the dose.”

Thomas was confused. Surely she was fond of the creatures after working with them for weeks, but he couldn’t detect any emotions from her when she talked of their deaths.

“The government decided that it was too damaging to risk too many tests, so they only granted permission for 10 octopodes, 5 tests each. It’s at the edge of our limit; If an octopus died now…” She shivered. “Well, hopefully all goes to – ”

“Hàixiū is out!” The steady thud of feet on the spotless white floor, squeaks, squeals and more shouting. Only Hàorán stayed where he was, a surprised but smug grin on his face. Why, Thomas wondered. Somehow, the alleged madman fascinated him.

He followed Mimi back to Hàixiū’s tank, notebook forgotten, where a group of teuthologists stood in a loose circle, talking. He caught a few words. “- before we expected.”

“She’s certainly developing fast,” Mimi commented, “She wasn’t scheduled to escape for a few weeks.” Nobody seemed panicked. In fact, nobody was even looking for Hàixiū. It was as if they all knew that she would be back soon, like she was a colleague who had just gone out for a coffee and would return in a few minutes. Thomas stood awkwardly behind the group, staring absent-mindedly into Hàixiū’s empty tank.

“Hui?” Mimi called. Hui walked in and looked at her expectantly. “She should be near the vent in the test room, could you bring her in please?” Hui nodded and left.

He returned a minute later with a frozen look of panic on his face. “She’s not there.”

No one knew what to do. The chances of her not doing what they expected were a thousand to one. They froze.

Suddenly everyone was moving, and Thomas watched with an amused smile. This is what happens when you become too logical, he thought. Resuming his watch on the tank, he let his mind roam, headlines and front-page news drifting in and out of his consciousness.

“Where could she be?” “What’s happened to her?” “What if she’s got out?” “Why didn’t we calculate correctly?” People zipping back and forth, searching the rooms, searching the vents, making more calculations and searching again.

Half an hour later, the panic was broken, the problem still unsolved. In place of blind frenzy came desperation for some, depression for others. Some were sitting cross-legged on the floor, crying, knowing that Hàixiū was already dead, some continued stubbornly searching. Thomas was still glued to the glass, trying to appear oblivious to his surroundings, overwhelmed with the emotions that flooded the lab. A single octopus meant so much to them. In the passageway, a man was on his knees, praying.

As Thomas stared through the tank, something caught his eye. “Mimi,” he shouted, realising he didn’t know her last name. His voice was scratchy and thick with disuse. She lifted her head from her hands and looked around, unsure of who was calling her. “She’s here.”

Everyone crowded around him, following his finger to the small jellyfish-like shape in the corner. Mimi squealed with relief. Hui and another man slapped each other on the back. Tears were forgotten, driven away by almost hysterical laughter.

Thomas was confused, alone in his thoughts. Hàixiū had always been there; She hadn’t moved from when he first entered the room. And throughout the commotion that had followed her ‘disappearance’, no one had admitted coming near the tank. ‘Hàixiū is out’…

Safe in his corner, Hàorán laughed. Kuàisù had proved his worth.

Ronny Chieng Explains Why Chinese People Love Money

How is China’s domination in lab-grown diamonds shaking up and destabilizing the traditional global diamond market?

You want to buy a Diamond ring

A 4 Carat cut and polished ring at Chow Sang Sang in Beijing retails at a whopping 320,000 Yuan

Same 4 Carat Synthetic Diamond ring can be purchased for 42,000 Yuan

No Amateur can tell the difference

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Not even a Loupe can tell the difference these days

You need a Gemological Certificate & LIBS or Spectroscopy reports

Nirav Modi, the legend 😁😁😁😁😁

He claimed to spend $ 400 Million (₹ 2700 Crore) in buying Natural Diamonds but spent $ 46 Million in buying Synthetic Diamonds from China vide HK and likely (ALLEGEDLY) siphoned off $ 354 Million

The ED who confiscated his diamonds thought the value was ₹ 3,130 Crore found their value to be less than ₹350 Crore

So a Gemological certificate isn’t exactly iron clad evidence

Only the RETAILER is

Tiffanys, Cartiers etc who have a reputation sell absolutely doubt free Natural diamonds

China makes 77% of the World’s synthetic diamonds

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India is a huge market and we import 24% of Synthetic Diamonds and also make 9% of Synthetic Diamonds

Why is the Global Market shaken up?

36% Diamond Buyers were those who scrimped and saved for years or took heavy credit card debts to buy Diamond Jewelry with Natural Diamonds

Today those buyers can easily pay 20% of the price and buy Synthetic Diamonds with 18K Gold Jewelry which can deceive 99% of the world as being authentic

So those customers will NEVER buy natural diamonds again

So value of diamonds is driven down drastically

Disadvantages of Synthetic Diamonds:-

They can’t be RESOLD or HOCKED easily

Pawnbrokers pay you 60% value of Natural Diamonds and you can resell them for 100% Value or even greater value in the same retail outlet at a later delate

They are easily convertible to cash

Meanwhile Synthetic Diamonds fetch less than 30% value at a Pawnbroker and reselling them means at least 50% discount

What is the best 5th generation fighter in the world, and why?

What is the best 5th generation fighter in the world? What are the criteria? These are the questions I have asked for sometime now.

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I will tackle this question.

I will evaluate it based on current fighters abilities not the SU-57M or Block 4 F-35. I also do not care about numbers in total built. I agree that in a real war that matters. However for this question it does not. This question is simple to me, if I could only have 1 of these fighters to protect my country which one would it be.

Lets start with the biggest question does the fighter have to have all the parameters that Lockheed Martin laid out when they developed the 5th generation brand? I would say no you do not, as those goal posts were moved by Lockheed themselves in order to get the F-35 to fit the as a 5th generation fighter title. Super maneuverability and Supercruise was removed with the reasoning being since there are no more dogfights( which will turn out to be incorrect) and speed is not important anymore. Consequently I will not be holding the fact that the SU-57 does not have serrated nozzles yet or the J-20 lacking supercruise ability. There will be one caveat to this discussion there is quite limited information J-20 just as the Chinese prefer it but this will make a comparison to other fighters more challenging but I will do my best.

Lets start by defining what I believe makes the best 5th gen aircraft. It would be the best all around aircraft that if you could only have one of these 5th generation fighters in your inventory, which one is best able to carry out A2A, A2G, standoff attacks and air superiority would it be. that the basis of the this discussion lets begin.

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BVR

The West has convinced the world that air battles will now be fought only from beyond visual range(BVR). In this scenario sensors are king, and how far your radar can pick up a target and create a firing solution is what matters. In this regard I will talk about the individual abilities of the fighters not a grouping of fighters working in unison. In the case of BVR other than the sensors the missiles are the most important weapon in the arsenal of these fighters. We should now look at how each fighter stacks up in these categories

F-35

The F-35 uses the APG-81 with 1000-1600 T/R modules and a range of 200km and 110km on 1sqm target the EOTS is a combination of IRST and FLIR that has shown range out to 90kms not sure what range it can create a firing solution from officially but it is believed to be around 50kms from what is in open sources.

The missiles for air-to-air are the AIM-120D which incorporates active seeker with a max range of 160km and a predicted NEZ of 70km in stealth configuration and when stealth is not required the AIM-9X for short range attacks. Both missiles can be shot off boresight even at targets in the rear hemisphere. Max air-to-air load out in stealth configuration is 4 AIM-120D. Both missile can receive datalink correction from F-35

F-22

The F-22 uses the APG-77 with 1500 -2200 T/R modules with a range of 400km on a 1sqm target it does not have any kind of optical tracking abilities as it was designed as a pure air superiority fighter and the US had rejected IRST as general rule in fighter aircraft at this time. It also has the AN/ALR 94 with passive sensors with a claimed range of 463kms to detect radar signals.

The missiles are very similar to the F-35, with AIM-120D as primary medium distance and the AIM-9X. The F-22 does not have the ability to shoot off boresight missiles but can carry 6 AIM-120D and 2 AIM-9X in stealth configuration.

J-20

The J-20 uses the Type 1475 with approximately 2000T/R modules which are rumored to Gallium nitride which would make for a very powerful radar. Before people say that cannot be possible, China makes 98% of the world production of Gallium. The only numbers to be found is a range of 200km. They also claim the J-20 has an IRST but again there is no real open source information specifications.

The missiles used by the J-20 are the PL-15 with an AESA radar seeker and 200km range and dual pulse motor. For short range it uses the PL-10 with an imaging infrared (IIR) seeker, thrust-vectoring exhaust nozzle, laser proximity fuse, and reportedly boasts a 90-degree off-boresight capability.

SU-57

The SU-57 is a bit different than all the others, it has 4 X-band radars that cover 360° The nose radar has 1514 T/R modules with a range of 400km on 1sqm targets and two side arrays with 414 T/R modules each with range of 110km+ there no numbers on T/R of the rear radar it may be RWR only or another full radar. The Felon also incorporates two L-band arrays in which many argue about their uses but I believe because they are part of the radar system. It also has probably the best IRST in current fighter with the quantum well technology(QWIP) with minimum range 130km. The OLS-50M and 101KS-V Infra-red Search And Track System ( IRST ) is designed to detect heat emissions from aircraft and missiles passively. IRST are essentially thermographic cameras that detect and track heat sources without emitting any radiation in the process ( passive ).

The SU-57 in stealth mode can carry the R-77M a medium distance dual pulse motor missile with a range of up to 193km with datalink the missile has a AESA seeker that when it picture is completed may have largest NEZ of any missile again that is opinion not a fact. The R-37M has a version called the Izdeliye 810 with folding wings. There are pictures of it being manufactured and information it would be included in the SU-57E so we will assume it is an option. The range is said to be 300km+. For short range internal bays the RVV-MD2 missiles is equipped with a combined guidance system, which includes inertial guidance plus a multi-element double-channel infrared seeker with increased resistance to interference, plus a radio correction receiving channel. The missile can independently determine its coordinates in space, regardless of external factors. The scanning area of the homing seeker in the forward hemisphere is 180°, which allows tracking all evasive maneuvers of the attacked enemy aircraft.

BVR Analysis

This will be a contentious topic as the Westerners have a very hard time with accepting anything but clear dominance and that is simply is not the case if you look at the open source available data. The fact is that the F-22 and the SU-57 are the standouts in this category. Yes the F-35 networking with multiple platforms is a great ability but we cannot look at things from that perspective. In a battle AWACS will be destroyed and communications disrupted. The individual abilities of the fighter to perform in a contested environment is the measuring stick. The SU-57 and F-22 radars outrange both the F-35 and J-20 along with longer range passive sensors. The SU-57 has upper hand in missile range and ability to fire totally passively. The AN/ALR-94 cannot create a firing solution without the use of its radar which will alert fighters to being targeted, especially the SU-57 with 4 X-band radars.

There is one more combat avionics system made especially for BVR that the SU-57 has, it is unique in the fighter aviation community. It is called BOSES-TU ‘Duel’ ,this is from one western sources in 2014 :

”This is the first time we have seen such a system anywhere. This system enables the aircraft to be programmed with the capabilities of its adversary, allowing for the aircraft to track its opponent and recommend optimized decisions to the pilot, creating a fine balance of man and machine. Such a system is only the tip of the iceberg with what can be done, it’s the first time we have seen the introduction of AI on a combat platform.”

Aircraft Operational Recommendation Expertise System of Tactical Level called ‘Duel’ for usage in BVR combat. Besides the Su-35S ,only the new Su-57 has this combat system. Something like this western fighters do not possess. What is the story about? Thanks to Russian Intel ,hundreds of flight and maneuvering performance data, combat potential and other details and data for all operational western 4th and 5te gen fighters are stored in two 6-processor/Elbrus-4S/ digital comps type Baget-53-31M. So this system helps pilot of Su-35/57 to take decisions and actions in BVR combat in all possible tactical/combat scenarios: 1vs1,1vs2,2vs1,2vs2,2vs4 or vice versa and in squadron level.

In conclusion the BVR battle will most like be won by the F-22 or SU-57.

Stealth

Next we will cover the stealth of each aircraft,:

F-22 – Has a claimed RCS of 0.0001sqm. Whether this is correct or not it is the number most often quoted. While I have my doubts about the veracity of theses claims I will not cover that here and will just use the above number. This makes the F-22 the most stealthy fighter in the world.

F-35 – Has a claimed RCS of 0.001sqm. This would have it ranked as the second best stealth fighter in the world

J-20 – There are no official claimed numbers from the Chinese for the J-20. Therefore I choose to reputable modeler Dhimas Afihandarin who has estimated the J-20 to be around 0.2sqm which even he admits seems high but that is what the modeling says, therefore since we have nothing else to go by that is the number I have to be settled on.

SU-57 – There are many that try to use the patent as the basis for the SU-57 in which case the we should the ATF for the F-22 which called for the fighter to be 100x smaller than 10sqm F-15 which equals out to 0.1sqm. Lockheed has since revised that number to 0.0001sqm. Russia has said the actual number is classified. So again I turned to Dhimas Afihandarin who is one of the only modelers to take into account radar blockers and screens and carbon fiber skin. According to his modeling the SU-57 RCS is around 0.006sqm. Which would put the SU-57 firmly in third place in the stealth race.

Stealth Analysis

Stealth is a very interesting topic people obsess about having the lowest RCS number, and yes in certain situations that is most important factor. How the fighter will be used matters more though. If you plan for your plane to do deep penetration SEAD and DEAD mission that small RCS will be vital. What is vital is that the rapid speed at which radars are catching up with stealth. The US has admitted they believe the S-400 radar can track and target a F-35. According to Alastair Crooke a well know retired intel specialist on the middle east with deep deep inside information. The reason the planned 24hr operation of Israel to attack Iran only lasted a few hours was due to the fact that F-35’s that were supposed to lead the charge being locked and targeted by an unknown radar. This radar is believed to be the S-400 Russia brought in to support Iranian IAD. This is not even the best Russian radar, that honor would go to the new S-500 radar not to mention the multiple ground radars used by China and Russia in multiple bands that are linked together to create a picture for their respective IAD’s.

Within the WVR realm which contrary to popular belief still exists. The stealth of an aircraft becomes much less important and Kinematics and pilots become the main measuring sticks along with missiles. If you look for example at the the ranges at which a F-22 for example would see an SU-57 on radar you are looking at about 37kms and that does not take into account EW abilities. Against a none peer adversary like Iraq, Libya, Syria, Afghanistan etc, stealth doesn’t matter. If you plan to take a F-22 and F-35 into an IAD that will also have alert aircraft like MiG-31’s , SU-57’s, J-16’s and J-20 they will not survive. Many will argue that the F-22 on a radar is a blip on a radar but a blip traveling at 1200km per hour is still a red flag. The Russians, Iranians and Chinese have been building a radar blueprint for these planes for over 20 years.

The Russians and Chinese do not do SEAD and DEAD missions as a general rule they are more apt to use missiles to destroy air defences. Stealth is vital and against non peer opponents it can be deadly. However for those countries that still plan tp use modern air power as their main strategy, I would advise them to re-think that strategy going against a peer level IAD network.

In conclusion the Lockheed brother definitely win the stealth game. However that does not give them the edge it did 20 years ago when the F-22 took to the skies to be part of the US Air Force.

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Air to Ground/Stand-off munitions

F-22– This where the F-22 really falls down it can really only carry 2 1000lbs GBU-32 PGM 445lbs of explosives with 15km range.

F-35 – The F-35 can carry internally 2 JSM range 275km+ or 8 SDB PGM with 105lbs of explosive each or it can carry a total of two GBU-32’s. Typical loadout for ground attack is 2 GBU-32’s PGM 445lbs of explosives and 2 AIM-120D.

J-20 – The J-20 is intended to carry internally the LS-6/50 PGM 110lbs of explosive and LS6/100 PGM 220lbs of explosive. Quantities unknown.

SU-57 – The Su-57 can carry internally D-30SN glide bomb 220lbs of explosive 90km range, KAB-250 PGM 365lbs of explosives KAB-500 PGM 990lbs of explosives, Kh-36 Grom-E2 Glide bomb range 50km 551lbs of explosive, Kh-59MK2 290km range 705lbs of explosives, Kh-69 400km range 683lbs of explosives. Kh-31 260km range 207lbs of explosives.(anti-ship/anti-radiation). Kh-35U 300km range 320lbs of explosive, Kh-58UShKe 260km range 328lbs of explosives.

In this category there is a clear winner, and that is the SU-57 it has by far the most variety and destructive firepower. On top of that unlike some of the air-to-air missiles all of these munitions have been used in either Syria or Ukraine or both. The SU-57 has the ability to dominate ground warfare without even entering the IAD envelope of all the Western IAD’s.

Another caveat is that the Russian create all missiles with belief they may have to carry a nuclear warhead one day. So missiles like Kh-69 or the smaller version of Kinzhal intended for the weapons bay of SU-57 or the new long range prototype cruise missile based on the Kh-555 with a range of 2,500km could possibly carry long range stand-off nuclear missiles.

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Avionics/Sensor Fusion

This is a very interesting subject because sensor fusion is such a new term and function on the battlefield. The consensus is that the F-35 does it best and I can see why people say that. The way the US has chosen use fusion is very efficient and creative things like being able to see through the fighter and fusing the information from the radar and cameras to display on the helmet is very impressive feat of engineering. The F-22 does have sensor fusion but not to the level or in same way that the F-35 does but enough to give excellent awareness in the sky. There is literally nothing open source on China that I can find. The Russian definitely do sensor fusion integrating all the sensor to create a picture of the battle space along with what they call the second pilot AI system that manages many functions thus allowing pilot to concentrate on the fight.

People will speak about the avionics of F-22 and F-35 being superior to the SU-57 but factually the SU-57’s electronics and eternals are superior to block 3 F-35 let alone F-22. The F-35 current (Block 3) has a less powerful ICP than the Su-57’s compute module. The F-35 uses PowerPC MPC7448 chips vs Elbrus-4S (quad-core Elbrus) on the Su-57. The F-22 is even worse, it uses i960MX processors. This is supposed to change on F-35 when Block 4 comes out. On top of that the SU-57 uses NTC Module 1879VM8Ya (sixteen-core NeuroMatrix DSPs with five-core ARM controllers AI accelerators, and all the networking is done by fiber optics. The radar uses second generation gallium arsenide elements.

Who has the best sensor fusion? The realty is we do not know, yes the F-35 under ideal circumstances can interface with the most assets but the chance in a real WWIII type scenario that is going to available is probably zero. The question for me is who systems will allow their pilots to kill the most adversaries efficiently. It is great to be able to see through your fighter but is that better than side radars that can see from a fighter from over 100kms away. What picture does fusing Optical, L, and X-band together to create a firing solution vs the AN/ALR-94. The actual only way to tell whose system is the best is to have an actual war and have them battle it out. I am sure they will all have their strengths and weaknesses but trying to use red flag events as your proof of superiority is foolish. As far as I am concerned this is an immeasurable category.

Kinematics

F-35- F-135 engine with serrated nozzles 43,000lbs thrust with afterburners 28,000lbs without AB, T/W at normal takeoff weight of 1.07, wing loading 526 kg/m2, Mach 1.6. The F-35 cannot supercruise and is limited to about 10 min of supersonic flight unless there is an emergency. Range internal fuel 1400km. Climb rate 277m/s.

F-22 – F-119 engine with 2D flat nozzles 35,000lbs x 2=70,000lbs with afterburners 50,,000lbs without AB, T/W at normal take off weight 1.25 wing loading 377 kg/m2, top speed Mach 2.25. The F-22 can supercruise at Mach 1.8 and has a range without drop tanks 1000km. Climb rate 350m/s.

J-20 – WS-10C engine with serrated nozzles 32,000lbs x 2=64,000lbs with afterburners unknown dry thrust, T/W 0.95 wing loading 340 kg/m2 , top speed Mach 2.0. The J-20 cannot supercruise and has a range of 3500km. Climb rate 304m/s. Top Speed Mach 2.

SU-57 – AL-41F1 engine with 3D TVC 33,000lbs x2=66,000lbs with afterburners 39,600lbs without AB T/W at normal takeoff weight 1.15 wing loading 371 kg/m2, top speed Mach 2.0. The SU-57 can supercruise at Mach 1.3 and has a range of 3500km. Climb rate between 361–384m/s.

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Kinematics Analysis

This is the easiest to break down. The SU-57 is in a league of its own when it comes to the kinematic world. The design builds on Sukhoi’s knowledge from the flankers and adds LEVCONS, 3D TVC and the best aerodynamics of the 5th generations. The F-22 is no slouch here either with 2D TVC and lots of thrust. The J-20 for its size is very agile due to its canard delta wing setup. Lastly the F-35 might not be as bad as people claim but the numbers do not lie.

Command and Control

F-22– The F-22 was initially excluded from the Air Force’s data-sharing prototype, ABMS Capability Release 1, due to differences in communications design and development. However, the ACC Federal Laboratory has integrated combat apps onto the F-22 using an open software stack.

F-35 – MADL, when operated in conjunction with other F-35 sensors, can achieve the much sought-after goal of sharing threat data and helping the jet find and destroy enemy targets from ranges where it remains undetected. This ability, shown in several wargames in recent years, is something that F-35 pilots point to as a defining reason for its superiority.

J-20 – No open source information I can find.

SU-57 – The upgraded S-111 system uses AI based cognitive radio technology it enhances interference and intelligence immunity, helping it counter jamming and other electronic warfare techniques employed by adversaries. The equipment ensures data transmission validity by means of noiseless coding, message symbol interlacing, universal time synchronization for signal processing, simultaneous message transmission via parallel links, extending stable communication range, and using artificial intelligence technology. The system includes computers, interlacers and de-interlacers, high-frequency-band antenna tuners, digital signal processors, and noiseless encoders and decoders. This allows for seamless communication and battlefield management with all assets from the IAD, to ground forces to the control air battle space.

Again I prefer to look at how the fighters would perform independent of larger network but I am sure while AEW&C and AWACS will not survive the battle space the ability to work in coordination with other fighters will to some degree. The F-35 whole design is based on interoperability and the ability to pass on information to other fighters within the kill chain.

The F-22 is integrated but not to the degree that the F-35 is but is a lethal part of that chain.

The J-20 does have ability to link fighters together it has been spoken of but details are so sparse that it really impossible to say much of anything except do not underestimate the Chinese.

The SU-57 and the Russians have a very robust ability with the SU-30SM2, SU-35S, MiG-31 and SU-57 to communicate with the Russian networks. Many think Russia is far behind but it is actually not. Since the 80’s a group of four MiG-31s was capable of exchanging data in automatic mode regarding targets being tracked within 800km-wide sector with the ability to communicate to a distance of 2000km with ground command to target data to a ground or air-based targets. The SU-35S lead in 4 fighter group can target/pass information and even fire the missiles of the 3 other fighters while they fly passively. The SU-57 abilities are significantly more than these examples obviously.

In the end I would give F-35 the edge as this is its primary strength, however the other 3 fighters should not be underestimated.

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Electronic Warfare

F-35 – In today’s signal-dense environments, the AN/ASQ-239 system provides long-range 360-degree, full-spectrum situational awareness and rapid-response capabilities. Its offensive and defensive capabilities include threat warning, radio-frequency and infrared countermeasures, and targeting support – allowing pilots to detect, analyze, and counter threats and reach well-defended targets.

F-22 – BAE Systems’ AN/ALR-94 digital electronic warfare system geolocates potential threats by detecting adversary radars at significant ranges, allowing the F-22 Raptor to limit its own radar emissions, enabling it to better conceal its location when operating in hostile territory. Data collected by the AN/ALR-94 system helps identify, monitor, analyze, and rapidly respond to threats by providing the pilot with maximum situational awareness. Advanced avionics and sensors provide a complete view of the battlespace, enabling pilot to take appropriate action and ensure mission success. The AN/ALR-94 electronic warfare system also is reliable and maintainable reducing long-term life cycle costs.

J-20 – I am sure there is one but again there is no information except about electronic warfare support drones

SU-57 – The L402 Himalayas system works on the principle of active jamming, which involves emitting powerful radio signals to disrupt and confuse enemy radar and communication systems. It also includes passive jamming, which involves analyzing and mimicking enemy signals to deceive their systems. Passive jamming involves detecting the radar signals emitted by the enemy radar system and then transmitting a signal that interferes with the radar’s ability to detect targets. This can be done without alerting the enemy to the presence of the jamming aircraft, allowing it to remain undetected and avoid being targeted by the enemy. Passive jamming is an effective countermeasure against radar-guided weapons and is an important component of modern air defense systems.

This again is a very hard again to gauge. EW is the biggest secret of all in fighter aircraft, the basics are known but details are never given. Personally I think they are all most likely excellent BAE has a great reputation and Russian EW is also very good. Knowing which one will do the best job is impossible. The only way to know is a war, without that it is all talk and speculation.

The Conclusion

After doing this review I am going to give the J-20 an incomplete grade as their is just not enough information in open sources to do a proper evaluation. I will try find more info and update this post.

After all this what have determined. When it comes to BVR the F-22 and SU-57 are the ones to beat especially against 4th generation platforms. The SU-57 has actually had a BVR kill with R-37M at 217km. WVR Again this will be the domain of the SU-57 and F-22 with SU-57 having the advantage in maneuverability and the fact it can shot off-boresight missiles. The ground attack game is all SU-57 the F-22 can drop a couple bombs well within any IAD of almost any country. The F-35 is designed to be a ground attack queen but the SU-57 has better variety, firepower and range on its munitions. Avionics all the fighters have elite avionics made to work within their fighting doctrine. The US leverages it worldwide network of allies and bases and ships to create an electronic picture. THE Russians design there fighters around being part of their IAD defence as mini AWACS to fill in the gaps in IAD and attack threats to IAD. In a electronically degraded environment with GPS and electronic communication limited it becomes a BVR and WVR fight which we have already covered. Electronic warfare again realistically all the fighters do very well, whose system works best we would only know in actual wartime scenario it is all chest thumping bravado right now. Stealth the US fighter win hands down, but the truth is that according to modeling the Su-57 will most likely be within visual range before the missiles start flying. Plus Russia and China plan to fight in their own backyards with IAD coverage, with the networking of radars it is highly doubtful even an F-22 or any fighter will go undetected.

So which on is the best all around I think everyone has an opinion. Most will say that if you do not pick one of the American fighters then you are crazy or you are Russian or Chinese bots. The lack of intellect behind those kind of statements is something I find amusing or just ignore.

The SU-57 is essentially an omni role stealth plane. With the most varied types of armaments’ tied for best range and has best kinematics overall of the 5th generation. It is also the only fighter to prove itself with BVR and WVR kills along with standoff destruction of infrastructure and IAD. There are individual abilities that other fighters do better but all around I think it is quite indisputable which fighter is the best overall .

How I lost my home language | from Picture This comedy special

How serious is the Chinese military’s lack of experience?

As serious as it is for us.

Answers like that of Roland’s anger me because they’re very clearly propaganda designed to paper over real problems. What I and all the officers at USTRANSCOM saw were challenges that were unique to our situation, drawn by several factors:

The GWOT went on for too long and we had become too specialized in COIN. This created a need for the force to unlearn and reorient, both of which were fraught with uncertainty because we did not have experience in whatever was going to be the war of the future (but we were certain it wasn’t going to be a repeat of the last 50 years).
Adoption of new strategies and defenses against new cyberwarfare were fraught with talent issues. People like Roland do not spend their time asking how good the quality of nerds are at J6. Maybe he knows of some magical staffing fixes in the intervening time, but I am not holding my breath given how often Americans repeat to themselves myths like “I am not a math person.” This is especially true of the American nationalist who values loyalty over talent, which is why I have next to no confidence that the more loyalist posturing we exhibit the better our cyber is going to be. If anything this tends to be an inverse relationship.

The gap between theory and practice is insurmountable without fighting a war of its kind. Yes, we have our heads on straight figuring out what the next plan ought to be. That is not the hard part; most influential players today seem to be perfectly capable of this as well. The bottleneck for now is in the trial— there just aren’t many opportunities to test the theory out. The breakout of war will change that, but then we all will simply have the next bottlenecks exposed.

I don’t care that we are good at transporting goods. That’s the mantra to make people look away from the obvious factor that we transport goods over distances and the expected place where there will be a war is extremely far away from us compared to China, and that such a distance exists in more than one dimension (the complexity of the system grows geometrically, not linearly). Even if we presume we are able to surmount this challenge, the real issue is in replenishment. A lot of people have argued either from the historical perspective (arsenal of democracy) or from a spending perspective that we can easily scale up and replenish losses. Fundamentally, these people show a great amount of disrespect towards the needs of engineering. The fact of the matter is that we only have a strategic degree of civilian factories that we can convert into military production, particularly in shipbuilding, and we also have an intense lack of engineering workforce that can fill in the missing factory positions. Hell, it should already be bizarre that anyone proposes a scenario where we retain half of our ships or aircraft in a real shooting war with China. From where does this infinite confidence stem, in this day and age of Oreshnik missiles, Navy “mistakes,” and surprise 6th gen aircraft? And how long do people think we can afford to take with replenishment and logistics, given that Taiwan is right off the coast of China and halfway across the world from the vast majority of our industry? That alone will permit China a great many mistakes of inferiority, in a scenario where the US and China have in-kind experience fighting that kind of war (observation in Ukraine and elsewhere, training exercises, simulations, low intensity peacetime logistics). This was very aptly demonstrated the last time the US and China were in a direct, high intensity war!

main qimg 2f595660502ee40878f645966c5b5d65 lq

If anything China was far more inferior to the US during the Korean War and it was still fought to a stalemate. Now that China is much less inferior relative to the US, we expect that somehow the US is going to win?

Slander never won us wars, and racist slander tends to lead to the greatest complacency. When someone insists that we should embrace such propaganda on account of feeding our fighting spirit, ask yourself how that went with the fascists of the past. I have never considered this rhetoric to be prudent, and neither should anyone here tolerate it as such. There is a nasty historical pattern in which the more this rhetoric is present, the more the institutions issuing such rhetoric believe in their own lies.

I truly hope the military has not succumbed to this hubris. For anyone who still has unreasonable confidence in the speed to which we can update our warfighting capacity (especially logistics), let me ask you: How long did it take for us to switch to MRAPs? And how long did it take for the USMC to do the same switch?

The addendum: How long did it take for the Ukranians and Russians to switch to anti-drone countermeasures? How long do you think it will take us?

How serious is the Chinese military’s lack of experience?

It’s not that serious and the people who are suggesting that it is here, are doing so without any proper arguments or evidence. China’s military certainly hasn’t fought a major war, but most of the world’s military forces hasn’t. I see people suggesting China would fail a fight with Taiwan because of this lack of experience, why? Taiwan has more military experience?

The Chinese has the largest navy in the world, and no naval combat experience, neither did Ukraine when it sank the Moskva.

Unlike fighting experience, logistical experience is something you can actually get in peace time. Rodra Hascaryo’s answer talks about logistics, but it is basically saying that the USA had great logistics in WW2, and China doesn’t because they haven’t fought. First of all, the USA had no major combat experience prior to WW2, so he has made the argument that isn’t necessary for great logistics, second of all he has not addressed a shred of knowledge that we have on Chinese logistics, despite the fact that the US War College have an update to date and open source book on the subject.[1]

Bartetzko’s answer is based entirely on ignorance and racism. An even better basis of course. Bartetzko opens with a quote from General Eric Smith of the US Marine Corps, who said that the last Chinese war was so long ago that it was captured on oil and canvas unlike American wars which are captured on iphones. Incredible that both Bartetzko and a General in charge of preparing war against China, are so ignorant of China that they think the Chinese didn’t have cameras in the 1950s when they fought, let me just check my notes here, the USA in Korea.

Bartetzko goes on to say that NATO has perfected the way to fight modern wars, this is why we win all of them, like Afghanistan which we won, and Vietnam which we also won, just like Libya, Syria and Iraq, which are all war zones which we won and turned out exactly how we wanted it, and let’s not forget Somalia, which we fixed.

Finally Bartetzko realize that the Chinese mind is actually the real problem for them, they just can’t use their brain as good as us. Because the key element to the Chinese brain is conformity, they are historically known as very unimaginative people you see. Bartetzko does not actually directly point to any evidence or cultural traits of China in this regard of course, probably because his primary source of information is a US general who doesn’t know the Korean war happened.

China lacks experience, as does any nation not currently in war. Experience can be gained at different levels and in different ways. Experience is also transferable. If experience was not transferable, then tactics would never progress beyond what a single person could learn in life, and schools wouldn’t make much sense. Experience in modern warfare is without a doubt being acquired by China right now. You do not think they have observers in Ukraine with the Russians? Of course they do, they are watching and learning as much as everyone else.

I am not an expert on everything Chinese, but it is stupid and dangerous to think that between 1.4 billion Chinese people they can’t find capable officers, logisticians and tacticians, because of racial traits and culture, or that they don’t know how to load equipment on ships and move them around.

China moves around more material everyday, than all of Europe and USA combined. China has actually fought wars, and I think the key thing from those wars we should learn is that when China was serious, they were able to fight the USA to a stand still to the point that US generals thought nuclear weapons against a non nuclear country was the only way to attain victory. That is China after a civil war at its lowest, with the USA at one of it’s most productive periods in history. Of course, if your generals are so ignorant they don’t know this happened at all in Korea, of course they will not learn anything. You could say that experience is lost.

Chicken Divan Pie

Yield: 6 to 8 servings

Ingredients

1 1/2 cups cooked rice
4 eggs, divided
1 cup (4 ounces) shredded Cheddar cheese
1 cup milk
1 cup broccoli, cooked and chopped
1 cup chicken or turkey, cooked and chopped
1/4 cup green onions, chopped
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 dash ground black pepper
1/4 cup (1 ounce) Parmesan cheese, grated

Instructions

Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
In small bowl, combine rice and 1 of the eggs: mix well. Press rice mixture onto bottom and up side of lightly greased 9 inch pie plate.
In large bowl, toss cheddar cheese with flour. Add remaining 3 eggs, milk, broccoli, chicken, onions, salt and pepper: mix well. Pour over rice crust. Sprinkle with Parmesan cheese.
Bake for 50 to 60 minutes or until set in center.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Why Are Maintenance Men So Attractive?

When Sully hit birds, even the flight attendants knew they had to return to La Guardia (based on the movie). The return scenarios said that if he began turning immediately, he could have made it back, why did he not start turning immediately?

Sully did not immediately turn back, because he did not immediately know that power was permanently lost in both engines, and he did not immediately know that LaGuardia was actually within reach. You’re much more likely to get into more trouble by taking immediate and irreversible action in an emergency without thought.

If Sully had immediately turned back, the plane would have disproportionately lost altitude in the turn, possibly eliminating other landing spots from consideration, and not being able to reach LaGuardia. The altitude lost in the turn is altitude you won’t get back.

Sully and his first officer, per the transcript, determined they were unable to reach LaGuardia within one minute, and briefly considered Teterboro. (“1” is Sully, “2” is the First Officer.)

main qimg 55cf83f7af5b546ebf2f622f37f0484e

The flight attendants speculated they would return to LaGuardia, apparently, but they also did not know if LaGuardia was within reach, and if power could be restored to at least one engine.

15:26:37 HOT-1 uh what a view of the Hudson today.

15:26:42 HOT-2 yeah.

15:26:52 HOT-2 flaps up please, after takeoff checklist.

15:26:54 HOT-1 flaps up.

15:27:07 HOT-1 after takeoff checklist complete.

15:27:10.4 HOT-1 birds.

15:27:11 HOT-2 whoa.

15:27:11.4 CAM [sound of thump/thud(s) followed by shuddering sound]

15:27:12 HOT-2 oh #.

15:27:13 HOT-1 oh yeah.

15:27:13 CAM [sound similar to decrease in engine noise/frequency begins]

15:27:14 HOT-2 uh oh.

15:27:15 HOT-1 we got one rol- both of ’em rolling back.

15:27:18 CAM [rumbling sound begins and continues until approximately 15:28:08]

15:27:18.5 HOT-1 ignition, start.

15:27:21.3 HOT-1 I’m starting the APU.

15:27:22.4 FWC [sound of single chime]

15:27:23.2 HOT-1 my aircraft.

15:27:24 HOT-2 your aircraft.

15:27:24.4 FWC [sound of single chime]

15:27:25 CAM [sound similar to electrical noise from engine igniters begins]

15:27:26.5 FWC priority left. [auto callout from the FWC. this occurs when the sidestick priority button is activated on the Captain’s sidestick]

15:27:26.5 FWC [sound of single chime]

15:27:28 CAM [sound similar to electrical noise from engine igniters ends]

15:27:28 HOT-1 get the QRH… [Quick Reference Handbook] loss of thrust on both engines.

15:27:30 FWC [sound of single chime begins and repeats at approximately 5.7 second intervals until 15:27:59]

15:27:32.9 RDO-1 mayday mayday mayday. uh this is uh Cactus fifteen thirty nine hit birds, we’ve lost thrust (in/on) both engines we’re turning back towards LaGuardia.

15:27:42 DEP ok uh, you need to return to LaGuardia? turn left heading of uh two two zero.

15:27:43 CAM [sound similar to electrical noise from engine igniters begins]

15:27:44 FWC [sound of single chime, between the single chimes at 5.7 second intervals]

15:27:46 RDO-1 two two zero.

15:27:50 HOT-2 if fuel remaining, engine mode selector, ignition.* ignition.

15:27:54 HOT-1 ignition.

15:27:55 HOT-2 thrust levers confirm idle.

15:27:58 HOT-1 idle.

15:28:02 HOT-2 airspeed optimum relight. three hundred knots. we don’t have that.

15:28:03 FWC [sound of single chime]

15:28:05 HOT-1 we don’t.

15:28:05 DEP Cactus fifteen twenty nine, if we can get it for you do you want to try to land runway one three?

15:28:05 CAM-2 if three nineteen-

15:28:10.6 RDO-1 we’re unable. we may end up in the Hudson.

15:28:14 HOT-2 emergency electrical power… emergency generator not online.

15:28:18 CAM [sound similar to electrical noise from engine igniters ends]

15:28:19 HOT-1 (it’s/is) online.

15:28:21 HOT-2 ATC notify. squawk seventy seven hundred.

15:28:25 HOT-1 yeah. the left one’s coming back up a little bit.

15:28:30 HOT-2 distress message, transmit. we did.

15:28:31 DEP arright Cactus fifteen forty nine its gonna be left traffic for runway three one.

15:28:35 RDO-1 unable.

15:28:36 TCAS traffic traffic.

15:28:36 DEP okay, what do you need to land?

15:28:37 HOT-2 (he wants us) to come in and land on one three…for whatever.

15:28:45 PWS go around. windshear ahead.

15:28:45 HOT-2 FAC [Flight Augmentation Computer] one off, then on.

15:28:46 DEP Cactus fifteen (twenty) nine runway four’s available if you wanna make left traffic to runway four.

15:28:49.9 RDO-1 I’m not sure we can make any runway. uh what’s over to our right anything in New Jersey maybe Teterboro?

15:28:55 DEP ok yeah, off your right side is Teterboro airport.

15:28:59 TCAS monitor vertical speed.

15:29:00 HOT-2 no relight after thirty seconds, engine master one and two confirm-

15:29:02 DEP you wanna try and go to Teterboro?

15:29:03 RDO-1 yes.

15:29:05 TCAS clear of conflict.

15:29:07 HOT-2 -off.

15:29:07 HOT-1 off.

15:29:10 HOT-2 wait thirty seconds.

15:29:11 PA-1 this is the Captain brace for impact.

15:29:14.9 GPWS one thousand.

15:29:16 HOT-2 engine master two, back on.

15:29:18 HOT-1 back on.

15:29:19 HOT-2 on.

15:29:21 DEP Cactus fifteen twenty nine turn right two eight zero, you can land runway one at Teterboro.

15:29:21 CAM-2 is that all the power you got? * (wanna) number one? or we got power on number one.

15:29:25 RDO-1 we can’t do it.

15:29:26 HOT-1 go ahead, try number one.

15:29:27 DEP kay which runway would you like at Teterboro?

15:29:27 FWC [sound of continuous repetitive chime for 9.6 seconds ]

15:29:28 RDO-1 we’re gonna be in the Hudson.

15:29:33 DEP I’m sorry say again Cactus?

15:29:36 HOT-2 I put it back on.

15:29:37 FWC [sound of continuous repetitive chime for 37.4 seconds ]

15:29:37 HOT-1 ok put it back on… put it back on.

15:29:37 GPWS too low. terrain.

15:29:41 GPWS too low. terrain.

15:29:43 GPWS too low. terrain.

15:29:44 HOT-2 no relight.

15:29:45.4 HOT-1 ok lets go put the flaps out, put the flaps out.

15:29:45 EGPWS caution. terrain.

15:29:48 EGPWS caution terrain.

15:29:48 HOT-2 flaps out?

15:29:49 EGPWS terrain terrain. pull up. pull up.

15:29:51 DEP Cactus uh….

15:29:53 DEP Cactus fifteen forty nine radar contact is lost you also got Newark airport off your two o’clock in about seven miles.

15:29:55 EGPWS pull up. pull up. pull up. pull up. pull up. pull up.

15:30:01 HOT-2 got flaps out.

15:30:03 HOT-2 two hundred fifty feet in the air.

15:30:04 GPWS too low. terrain.

15:30:06 GPWS too low. gear.

15:30:06 CAM-2 hundred and seventy knots.

15:30:09 CAM-2 got no power on either one? try the other one.

15:30:09 4718 two one zero uh forty seven eighteen. I think he said he’s goin in the Hudson.

15:30:11 HOT-1 try the other one.

15:30:13 EGPWS caution terrain.

15:30:14 DEP Cactus fifteen twenty nine uh, you still on?

15:30:15 FWC [sound of continuous repetitive chime begins and continues to end of recording]

15:30:15 EGPWS caution terrain.

15:30:16 HOT-2 hundred and fifty knots.

15:30:17 HOT-2 got flaps two, you want more?

15:30:19 HOT-1 no lets stay at two.

15:30:21 HOT-1 got any ideas?

15:30:22 DEP Cactus fifteen twenty nine if you can uh….you got uh runway uh two nine available at Newark it’ll be two o’clock and seven miles.

15:30:23 EGPWS caution terrain.

15:30:23 CAM-2 actually not.

15:30:24 EGPWS terrain terrain. pull up. pull up. [“pull up” repeats until the end of the recording]

15:30:38 HOT-1 we’re gonna brace.

15:30:38 HOT-2 * * switch?

15:30:40 HOT-1 yes.

15:30:41.1 GPWS (fifty or thirty)

15:30:42 FWC retard.

15:30:43.7 [End of Recording]

15:30:43.7 [End of Transcript]

This CAN’T Continue – US Credit Card Crisis Hits HIGHEST DEFAULT In 14 Years

Have you ever known someone who went on vacation and just decided they were going to stay?

Me.
After my freshman year of college, which I was fortunate enough to do on scholarship, I was broke, my truck was broke, and my scholarship was only for the year. I really couldn’t afford to continue, and needed money to fix my truck, so I moved back home to my dad’s house in North Florida and went to work for his construction company. However, my father and I were butting heads. Even though I was 19, had been on my own for a year, attended college on scholarship, made Dean’s list, and now was paying rent to him for my room and board, he still insisted on treating me like I was 12, with a ridiculous curfew, controlling my social life, and even who I could and couldn’t date.

As Christmas approached, my mom invited me to go visit her in Orange County, California for a couple weeks of Christmas vacation. As I had stayed in school for summer session, I hadn’t been to see her as I usually would have in summer. She offered to fly me out and pay expenses, so I jumped at the chance. I really needed the break from my father and his drama.

I flew out, and got busy seeing the West Coast family for the holidays and such. Mom then suggested we go snow skiing for a few days. Having grown up in Florida, this was completely new to me, and I was worried whether I’d manage to have any fun as a rank beginner, but mom, an avid skier, assured me I’d be fine. As I’d always loved the mountains, I thought, what the heck, at least there will be pretty scenery, and for sure my first “White Christmas.” So off we went to Mammoth Lakes, CA.

I definitely didn’t become a great skier (or even a good one) in four days, but I absolutely loved it there. It was breathtaking and so different from everything I was used to. Then I ended up on a chairlift next to a mountain employee. Her name was Melanie, and she was a peach! (Melanie, if you read this, you should recognize yourself in this story, and thank you!) I asked her what it was like to work there. She said it was great, free ski pass, employee housing available across the street from the main lodge for a very reasonable rate, and decent pay, much better than my father was paying me. I thought to myself, “Self, if I’m taking a year off from school to make some money, wouldn’t it be a whole lot nicer doing it here?” And my Self replied, “I do believe you are right!”

I marched into the mountain human resources office and applied for a job. Since I had worked at a popular fast food restaurant in high school and college, they hired me on the spot for one of their cafeterias, which was halfway up the mountainside. I also took a room at the employee housing. I literally walked across the parking lot each morning, boarded a gondola, and whisked a thousand feet up the mountain to work as a cashier in a glass walled cafeteria with a view from 10,000 ft of altitude.

Even better, I worked half-days on weekdays, and we had ski lockers downstairs, with a backdoor that opened onto the slopes. I skied 150+ days per year for the next four years, and lived there 7 years, total. I skied, hiked, camped, rockclimbed, bicycled, windsurfed, tubed, and waterskied more than I have the entire rest of my life. I also began volunteer firefighting, which I have continued to do since. On the fire department I also met a certain lady.

My 4-day ski vacation turned into 7 years, plus a wife and two kids. I did move to Atlanta after that and finish college, but I’ll always cherish my ski vacation!

Edit:
Nearly 2k upvotes, thanks! I’m glad this story resonates with so many.
In answer to several commenters, I thought I’d add some “rest of the story” explanations.

Given that they’d had a very acrimonious divorce a dozen years earlier, and were still both very bitter at the other, my mother was of course delighted that I moved away from my father and more into her sphere of influence.

She was also glad to have an excuse to go to Mammoth more often, and of course she might as well ski while she’s there, no? My father harrumphed a bit but had surprisingly little to say about the whole thing, other than, “Well, if you aren’t prepared to live by *my* rules, perhaps it’s best if you stay there.” All I could think was, “Oh pleeeeeease don’t throw me in the briar patch, B’rer Bear!”

I did, as I mentioned, return to school and finish my degree, Nuclear Engineering at Georgia Tech. I am still married to the same great lady I met on the volunteer fire department 34 years ago. As I’ve moved, I’ve been on three different volunteer departments over the years, and have been Chief of my current one for over 10 years now.

I still keep touch with many friends from Mammoth, including several from the fire department. It really did become the center of my life the last few years I was there. I’ve been to visit a couple of times and been to a fire department “old-timers” reunion. And, living back in Florida, I torture myself by getting the ski reports from Mammoth Mountain, just to keep up on how much snow they’ve gotten (almost 60 feet last year!).

Perhaps it’ll be time for another ski vacation soon…..

Europe Just Admitted: “The Factories Are Gone Forever”

The asshole neighbor who loved his grass.

When I was growing up in the small town of East Brady, PA we had a neighbor that lived up the hill from us.

He was a reclusive sort.

I guess, friendly enough, but kind of rude.

And the reason why I say this is that every time we had friends over for a backyard BBQ; a little outing in our back yard, he would burn mounds of (cut lawn) grass in a large oil drum that would send thick whitish – grey smoke onto our gathering…

Each, and every time.

Every single FUCKING time.

Every…

…single…

…time.

Knowing what I know now, as a much older and experienced man, I dare say that I would be more proactive than my blue-pilled father. I get it, maybe I would, and maybe I wouldn’t, Who knows how I would react and what actions would I take if I were in my father’s shoes?

But one thing is a truth.

Our neighbor was intentionally rude, and being intentionally rude is very, very wrong. It is socially unacceptable. It is a sign of something being amiss, and suggestive of being mentally ill to some extent.

Anyways…

Guys, pay attention to those that intentionally and continuously harass you; belittle you or who are rude to you.

Distance yourself, and come up with strategies on how to deal with them.

Serious talk.

Listen to me.

Today…

Blushing Berry Pie

Yield: 8 servings

Ingredients

1/2 packet frozen ready-rolled piecrust defrosted
1 pound fresh strawberries, divided
4 ounces white chocolate, broken into squares
1 lemon
2 teaspoons powdered gelatin
1 (8 ounce) package full fat soft cheese, softened
1 (8 ounce) carton crème fraîche
5 tablespoons lemon curd
2 ounces icing sugar
8 ounces fresh raspberries

Instructions

Heat oven to 400 degrees F. Let piecrust stand at room temperature for 15 minutes.
Place pastry round in Deep Dish Pie Plate. Gently press dough into bottom and up sides of plate using Baker’s Roller™. Prick bottom and sides of pastry case using pastry tool; decoratively flute edge.
Bake for 20 to 22 minutes or until golden brown.
Cool completely.
Rinse strawberries and pat dry. Select 8 uniformly-sized strawberries for decoration. Slice each strawberry in half using Paring Knife, leaving stems on each half; set aside. Hull remaining strawberries using Cook’s Corer™; slice using Egg Slicer Plus™.
Place white chocolate in Large Micro-Cooker®. Microwave on HIGH 1 minute; stir every 20 seconds or until melted and smooth. Dip strawberry halves in melted chocolate; place cut-side down on a sheet of Parchment Paper.
Refrigerate for 15 minutes or until set.
Meanwhile, spread remaining melted chocolate over bottom of baked pastry using Skinny Scraper. Layer sliced strawberries over bottom of crust; set aside. Finely zest lemon using Lemon Zester/Scorer; set aside. Juice lemon using Juicer. Add cold water to juice to measure 3 1/2 fl ounces. Place lemon juice mixture in Small Batter Bowl. Microwave on HIGH 30-50 seconds or until liquid is hot but not boiling. Sprinkle gelatin over hot liquid; whisk until dissolved. Cool slightly.
Combine soft cheese, crème fraîche, lemon zest, lemon curd and icing sugar in Classic Batter Bowl; mix until smooth. Add dissolved gelatin; whisk until smooth using Stainless Steel Whisk. Spread cheese mixture evenly over strawberries. Arrange raspberries evenly over top of pie filling. Place dipped strawberry halves around edge of pie.
Refrigerate 30 minutes.
Serve using Slice ’N Serve®.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Musk Warns “America Is Headed For Bankruptcy SUPER FAST!”

Fun Comix

Inspiration in the Park

Submitted into Contest #283 in response to: Write a story with the line “I wasn’t expecting that.”… view prompt

John Steckley

The wooded area in the local park was my favourite place to go to when I was but a lad, living a short walk away. I spent many hours on my own there, but I did not for a second feel that I was alone. I felt welcomed there every time. The trees were my best friends, particularly the cluster of cedars.In fact it was a place that gave me confidence in myself. When I was ten years old, I felt the attraction of becoming a writer. No one knew that I had that feeling, certainly not any family members or friends. And when I went to the park, ideas for stories appeared to me beginning with blue waves of beginning words appearing in my head. They initiated tales about aliens in my head.I received no support from my English teachers. Several of them demonstrated with their commentary that they did not even like what I had written. They said that my stories were way too unreal, too far-fetched to have anyone accept the basic premises they were based on. Fortunately, although that shocked me at first, I learned to ignore their commentary. I am so glad I did.I would have never been published if I had taken their negativism for truth. I submitted my first story to a local newspaper in my small town. It was for the Christmas issue. I came up with an idea for a kind of supernatural story after taking a walk in what would become my inspiration place. I did not tell my English teacher of the time, even though he encouraged his students to enter the contest, offering to make suggestions before they submitted their piece. I was not going to let him insist that I make changes in it, and generally put my work down. He did not like that I only wrote stories about aliens. I liked the story just as it was. And I was not the only person to do so. The editor of the paper loved it, and published it the week after the contest had ended. I even received some money for the piece, and I was termed the ‘winner’ of the contest, even though several of the other stories were published as well – none of them written by my fellow high school students. My English teacher of the time did not comment in class when school opened up again in January. Later I heard two teachers talking about the fact that he had submitted his own short story, but had not been published. When they thought that I wasn’t looking and listening (I have very good hearing), they pointed at me and one of them said, “That boy over there was the winner.”After I graduated from high school, I applied for the English Literature program. They accepted me, certainly not because of my marks from my always always critical teachers, but because I had won the contest, and had since published several short stories in several literary magazines, all of them about aliens, and all inspired by trips to the park. I would have no idea what I was going to write about until I was in my special part of the park. Once there, voices inside me started my stories. Nowhere else did that for me.My First BookIn the summer after my initial year of university, I wrote my first book. To no surprise to me, my family and my friends, it carried a story of the presence of aliens on earth. It was easier to write such a long work than I ever thought it would be. My summer job was in a factory not far away from the park of my inspirations. I could and did walk to it in my lunch break, always carrying a pen and paper to copy down the ideas about the story that would come to me as I sat on a stump and ate the lunch my mother had prepared for me. Pretty much every day I had to finish eating my mom’s sandwiches while walking back to work. And her sandwiches are great! The ideas that flowed into my head took precedence.That book became a series about a particular group of aliens. By the time that I graduated with my English Literature degree, there were four books in the series. The last one was the longest, and was very much the hardest one to stop writing. I stayed in the park overnight, because I could not walk away from my source of inspiration.Another series began and ended in graduate school, this time with four books. More nights were spent in the park. I brought a tent, which when not used I hid in the underbrush.When I graduated I soon applied to and received a teaching position at a high school in town, but not the one with the English teachers that undervalued my work. I did not want to have anything to do with them.I soon became known as the ‘Find a Place’ professor, as I told my students about how the place I had found had been such an influence on all of my writing. A good number of my students tried to find their own place for writing inspiration. It helped some of them, one of whom said to me with some excitement as he walked, almost skipping, into the classroom ‘it worked, it worked’. Not one have published as yet, but I think that it is just a matter of time before a few of them do.Seeking a VisionIt has been a while now since I have done any writing. But that should not be a surprise to me, as I haven’t been able to get to the park in over a month. I have had to spend a lot of time marking, and being with my newly-married wife. She knows about my link with the park, and has suggested a few times that I should go there, but I thought that I should dedicate my ‘spare time’ with her in the early days of our being married.

Then she insisted. The timing was right. I had sat at my desk at work, and my desk at home with no results in writing: sentences written were soon crossed out. I had a strong desire to go to the park and be inspired.

I walked into the park, the cedars blowing in a slight wind as if they were waving me hello. I looked up at their uppermost branches, which had earlier been a guaranteed inspiration. Words appeared in my mind, and I had an inspiration to write another alien story, maybe even a book. I began writing. Then I felt compelled to look up once more. I could not believe my eyes. There were shadowy blue creatures near the top of the trees, aliens obviously. I was not expecting that.

NOW Neocons Are READY: Make Taiwan The Ukraine Of Asia

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Monkey Mayhem

Ah, greetings once more, dear reader. It seems you can’t get enough of my tales of bravery, wit, and sheer genius. Who could blame you? Life on this farm is a never-ending parade of absurdity, and I, Sir Whiskerton, am the only one keeping it from descending into complete anarchy. Today, I shall regale you with a story of chaos, hilarity, and an unexpected visitor who turned our world upside down. This is the tale of The Monkey Mayhem—a case that involved bananas, a harmonica, and far too much swinging from barn rafters. Buckle up.

The Arrival

It began, as most of my troubles do, with an ear-piercing commotion. I was enjoying a peaceful nap in the shade of the big oak tree when I heard the animals shouting.

“WHAT IS THAT THING?!” Harold the rooster squawked, his feathers puffed up in alarm.

“It’s got FINGERS!” cried Henny Penny, flapping her wings as if the sky were falling (again).

“Is… is it supposed to be here?” asked Betty the sheep, blinking in confusion.

I groaned, stretched, and reluctantly padded over to the source of the chaos. The animals had gathered in a tight, nervous circle near the barn, their eyes wide as they stared at… something. When I pushed my way to the front, I saw it.

A monkey.

Yes, a monkey. Small, with a mischievous grin, fur as brown as the barn walls, and long arms that seemed perfectly designed for causing trouble. He was sitting on top of an overturned bucket, casually peeling a banana. Around his neck hung a harmonica, which he blew into every few seconds, producing a jaunty, if slightly off-key, tune.

“Who on earth are you?” I demanded, my green eyes narrowing.

The monkey looked at me, tilted his head, and grinned wider. “Name’s Banjo,” he said, in a voice that was far too cheerful for my liking. “Just passing through. Nice place you got here.”

“Passing through?” I repeated skeptically. “This is a farm, not a circus.”

“Funny you should mention that,” Banjo said, hopping onto the fence in one fluid motion. “I was part of a circus. But I got bored. Too many rules, you know? So I broke out. Figured I’d see the world.”

“And you landed here?”

“Yup!” He blew a quick, jaunty tune on his harmonica and tipped an imaginary hat. “Thanks for the hospitality!”
The Chaos Begins

From the moment Banjo arrived, life on the farm descended into chaos. He had absolutely no respect for the unwritten rules of farm stability, and within hours, he had everyone in a frenzy.

Rule #1: The barn is for resting, not playing.

Banjo turned it into his personal playground. He swung from the rafters like a furry acrobat, scattering hay everywhere and startling poor Bessie the cow so badly that she tipped over her water bucket.

Rule #2: The chicken coop is off-limits to outsiders.

Banjo ignored this completely. He waltzed into the coop, harmonica in hand, and serenaded the hens with a tune so lively that they started clucking and flapping in what could only be described as a chicken dance. Harold was furious.

Rule #3: Don’t touch Farmer Joe’s tools.

Banjo not only touched them—he rearranged them. Farmer Joe’s neatly organized workbench was left in complete disarray, with wrenches hanging from the barn rafters and a hammer inexplicably balanced on top of a weather vane.

The animals came to me, as they always do when things go wrong.

“Whiskerton, you have to do something!” Henny Penny begged.
“He’s turning the barnyard into a circus!” Harold squawked.
“He… he ate my carrots,” Porkchop the pig sniffled, looking thoroughly betrayed.

I sighed. “Fine. I’ll talk to him.”

The Confrontation

I found Banjo sitting in the middle of the pasture, playing a soulful tune on his harmonica while balancing on one hand. A small crowd of animals had gathered to watch, their annoyance starting to give way to curiosity.

“Banjo,” I said, approaching him with my usual air of authority. “We need to talk.”

He flipped onto his feet and gave me a cheeky grin. “What’s up, Whiskers?”

“It’s Whiskerton,” I corrected, my tail flicking irritably. “And what’s up is you disrupting the farm. This place has rules, and you’re breaking all of them.”

“Rules?” Banjo said, scratching his head. “What’s the fun in rules?”

“Rules are what keep this farm running,” I said, my voice firm. “Without them, everything falls apart.”

Banjo shrugged. “Seems like everyone’s still standing to me. Besides, I’m just trying to liven things up. You ever notice how boring this place is?”

“Boring?” I echoed, offended. “This farm is perfectly balanced. It doesn’t need ‘livening up.’ It needs peace and order.”

“Peace and order, huh?” Banjo said, grinning. “Alright, let’s make a deal. If I can prove that a little chaos isn’t such a bad thing, I get to stay. If not, I’ll leave.”

I glared at him. I didn’t trust him, but I couldn’t resist a challenge. “Fine. But if you lose, you leave without complaint.”

“Deal!” Banjo said, shaking my paw enthusiastically. Then he blew a triumphant note on his harmonica and scampered off, leaving me wondering what I’d just agreed to.

The Monkey’s Plan

Over the next day, Banjo set out to prove his point. He organized a series of absurd activities that left the farm in an uproar—but, annoyingly, also brought a surprising amount of laughter.

He convinced the pigs to play a game of tug-of-war with an old rope, which ended with everyone falling into the mud and laughing hysterically.
He taught the chickens a synchronized dance routine, complete with harmonica accompaniment, which had even Harold grudgingly tapping his talons.

He turned the hay bales into a makeshift obstacle course, challenging the animals to races that left everyone cheering.

By the end of the day, the farm was a mess, but it was also filled with an energy I hadn’t seen before. Even I had to admit, begrudgingly, that Banjo’s antics had brought the animals closer together.

The Happy Ending

That evening, as the sun set over the farm, Banjo found me lounging on the barn roof.

“Well?” he said, sitting beside me. “Did I prove my point?”

I sighed. “You caused chaos. But… you also brought the animals together. I suppose there’s a place for a little fun, as long as it doesn’t disrupt the farm completely.”

Banjo grinned. “Does that mean I can stay?”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine. But only if you promise to follow the rules. Mostly.”

“Deal!” he said, holding out his paw for a high five. Reluctantly, I swatted it.

And so, Banjo stayed on the farm, his harmonica tunes becoming a familiar sound in the barnyard. The farm found a new balance—one that included a little chaos, a lot of laughter, and, of course, me keeping everyone in line.
The Moral of the Story

Sometimes, a little chaos is exactly what you need to remind you of what really matters: friendship, laughter, and the joy of trying something new. Just don’t let it interfere with my nap schedule.

The End.

Woman ARRESTED After Committing PATERNITY FRAUD!—Instant Consequences!

Almost all of China’s debt is owned by domestic organizations. Can you speculate if the central government can’t pay its obligations?

Total Debt held by Chinese National Government and backed by PBOC as on 30/9/24 = ¥ 64.77 Trillion

Annual Interest on National Debt = ¥ 1.38 Trillion

Total Debt held by Local Governments (Prefecture, Provincial & Country) and backed by PBOC as on 30/11/2024 = ¥ 6 Trillion

Total Debt held by Local Governments (Prefecture, Provincial & Country) and not backed by PBOC but by the local state agencies = ¥ 25.36 Trillion

Total Debt held by Government of China and backed by the PBOC = ¥ 70.77 Trillion

Total Debt held by Local state agencies in China = ¥ 25.36 Trillion

Total Debt held by all Public Agencies in China = ¥ 96.13 Trillion

Gross Domestic Product of China (2025) Estimated = ¥ 135 Trillion

Total Debt as Percentage of GDP = 71.20%

Total Interest paid on Debt by PBOC = ¥ 1.38 Trillion + ¥ 141 Billion = ¥ 1.49 Trillion

So as you can see – the State Agencies in China – in counties and prefectures owed around 31.36 Trillion Yuan of Debt

Of this the National Government and PBOC have brought 6 Trillion Yuan under their umbrella by buying out 6 Trillion Yuan of Local Debt and replacing it with National Debt on a 1:1 swap in November

So around ¥ 25.36 Trillion Yuan is held by State Agencies not backed by the PBOC which pay a collective interest of ¥ 827 Billion a year

Assuming this entire debt is defaulted and the PBOC will assume the debt , that’s still only ¥ 2.317 Trillion of Debt which is only 19% of Revenue and 9.6% of Expenditure

Corporate Debt of China & Institutional Debt = ¥ 218.49 Trillion

This is the debt owned by Chinese Companies to their Government and Banks and People

The Assets owned and controlled by then = ¥ 436 Trillion

Total Revenue generated by Corporate and Institutional China = ¥ 40.88 Trillion

So even today Asset to Debt Ratio for Corporations and Institutions in China is only 50%

By contrast it is 87% in Korea, 81.2% in Japan

Total Institutional and Corporate Debt = 5.344 Years Revenue

It’s very close to Japan (5.108 Years) and Korea (5.206 Years)

With such a strong position, the Chinese Government can easily pay its obligations.

Cool Mint Pinwheel Pie

Yield: 12 servings or 16 sample servings

Ingredients

1/2 (15 ounce) package refrigerated pie crust (one crust)
3 (1.5 ounce) bars milk chocolate
8 ounces cream cheese, softened
1 (12 ounce) container frozen whipped topping, thawed, divided
1/2 cup milk
1/2 teaspoon peppermint extract
Green food coloring (optional)
1 (3.3 ounce) box white chocolate instant pudding and pie filling

Instructions

Heat oven to 425 degrees F.
Place pie crust in Deep Dish Pie Plate, gently pressing dough into bottom and up sides; prick bottom using Hold ‘N Slice.
Bake for 10 to 12 minutes or until golden brown. Cool completely on Nonstick Cooling Rack.
Break into small pieces and place in Small Micro-Cooker. Microwave, uncovered, on HIGH for 1 minute, stirring after each 10 second interval until chocolate is melted and smooth. Do not overheat. Spread half of the chocolate over bottom and sides of prepared crust; set aside.
Pour remaining chocolate onto Parchment Paper; immediately spread into a 6 inch circle using Skinny Scraper. Place Parchment on chilled Chillzanne Platter for 1 to 2 minutes, or until chocolate is firm and surface is dry to the touch. (Or, place chocolate on Cutting Board and refrigerate 15 minutes.) Do not allow chocolate to cool too long or it will crack when cut. Remove parchment from Platter and place on Cutting Board. Using Crinkle Cutter, cut chocolate circle into 12 even wedges but do not remove from parchment. Continue chilling on Platter until chocolate is set.
In Classic Batter Bowl, microwave cream cheese on HIGH for 30 seconds until softened; whisk until smooth using Stainless Steel Whisk.
Fill Easy Accent Decorator with 1 cup of the whipped topping; set aside for garnish. Add remaining whipped topping, milk, peppermint extract and food coloring to Batter Bowl; whisk until smooth. Add pudding mix and whisk vigorously until mixture is blended and very thick. Immediately spoon filling into crust; spread evenly using Large Spreader.
Pipe 12 rosettes around edge of pie. To remove chocolate from Parchment, slide Large Spreader between chocolate and Parchment, gently separating triangles. Place one triangle, with point toward center, against each rosette, forming a pinwheel pattern.
For a colder serving temperature and easier slicing, chill 30 minutes.
Serve using Slice ‘N Serve.

Nutrition

Per serving: Calories 320, Total Fat 20g, Saturated Fat 13g, Cholesterol 25mg, Carbohydrate 30g, Protein 3g, Sodium 250mg, Fiber 0g

Attribution

Posted by FootsieBear at Recipe Goldmine 6/15/01 2:42:17 pm.

Pampered Chef

Is there a plane that can be purchased on the open market that resembles a fighter jet?

Fighter jets don’t sell very well due to the fact that most have just one seat. The ones that have two seats are filled with so much weapons wizardry that a WIZO or Wepons Systems Officer (a non pilot) is needed to manage that aspect of the mission.

What you should be looking for are the trainer versions of these fighters that have two seats, so that the experience can be shared.

For example the most iconic collectable fighter, the P-51, comes rather inexpensively, unless it’s the “D” varrient that was fitted with a gun camera behind the pilot. That model is worth twice as much because the camera, if it is still there, can be removed, and the space converted to a second seat. If you find an airwworthy P51-D, expect to pay upwards of $1,000,000 for it.

On the lesser expensive side there are numerous foreign aircraft available from cash strapped countries that got them from the USA but for whatever reason the parts and support was cut off and they are languishing in the dessert somewhere.

Lastly, understand that the US generally does not dispose of any models that are still in use in order to preserve spare parts for the active fleet. For example just 40%of the A-10 s d

Ever built are airworthy at the moment. The rest are reposting at the Davis Monthan AFB in AZ ready to supply parts for those that are still flying.

~ Mike Heaton

Leftover Dreams: Materialism and Unrealistic Standards Among China’s Older Single Women

https://youtu.be/tTARmrwdNP0

All the Time in the World

Submitted into Contest #283 in response to: Write a story that ends with a huge twist.… view prompt

Patti Pierucci

By Patti A. Pierucci

(Author’s Note: The protagonist of this story, Dr. Anton Mellick,

also appears in the author’s full-length book The Hand of Maud.)

“There are really four dimensions, three which we call the three planes of Space,

and a fourth, Time.”

H.G. Wells, The Time Machine Mrs. Russell gave three quick taps on the door, then opened it and stuck her head in. “I’m leaving now, doctor. I left a pot of soup on the stove for you,” she said with a slight wave of her hand. “Good night; see you on Monday.”

“Alright, then. See you in the morning.” Anton Mellick—Ph.D., chairman of the Physics Department at Silverleaf Institute of Science, professor emeritus of physics at Mount Sterling University, and author of The Clockwork Chronicles: Black Holes, Wormholes, & The Space-Time Continuum—was standing in his office, a small room attached to the front of his expansive laboratory building, when Mrs. Russell, his housekeeper, poked her head in to say good night. He heard her footsteps clack-clacking outside on the pavement, then the car door opening and shutting, then the engine starting, then her car driving away.

Mellick had an ideal laboratory for his experiments. He had constructed a large, industrial-sized building behind his home. It took several months and contentious meetings with town officials to get a zoning variance and building permits to erect a structure this large, sixty feet square made of high-tensile steel and a flat, metal roof twenty feet high. There were no windows—to obstruct prying eyes.

It will be an eyesore, the neighbors had objected. A monstrosity, they told the town officials. So, in the interest of preserving neighborhood harmony—as well as his privacy—he agreed to construct a fence to shield the neighbors’ easily offended eyes from his lab. He had refused to back down on using steel in its construction, though. He needed the entire facility to be fireproof, just in case.

As soon as Mellick heard Mrs. Russell’s car driving away, he walked toward the door at the rear of his office, unlocked it—he always kept it locked—opened it, and stepped into his laboratory. In the center stood his Chrono Navigator. He had refused to call it a time machine; that was a name coined by H.G. Wells and used ad nauseum in movies and books ever since Wells’s book, The Time Machine, was first published in 1895. Mellick had almost called his time machine the Flux Capacitor as a wink-wink homage to the Back to the Future films but thought that would be too playful for so serious a machine.

The doctor considered The Time Machine to be a brilliant tale of time travel, an exciting story filled with action, romance, weighty significance, and a hopeful ending. But Wells’ description of how his time machine worked was utterly ridiculous—not that he blamed H.G. Wells, not in the least. Wells had conjured up a vivid description of his time machine. “I gave it a last tap, tried all the screws again, put one more drop of oil on the quartz rod, and sat myself in the saddle,” Wells wrote. “I took the starting lever in one hand …” Yes, Wells’s account of time travel was a spellbinding tale when it first landed in readers’ hands, yet no one actually believed in time travel. They didn’t know that time travel, at least in theory, was real. Wells, a scientist and visionary, didn’t know it, either. He had imagined the entire thing. It was science fiction back then, nothing more. Then, a mere decade later, comes Albert Einstein and his Theory of Relativity.

Mellick had devised a simplified, almost childlike, presentation to describe time travel to those who expressed interest. Few expressed interest, though. Most laughed at him, and he was the target of ridicule among the community of physicists he chaired at the university. Yes, he was the department head, and they answered to him, but they mocked him endlessly. “Glad to see you this morning,” commented one of the professors, Dr. Rudolph Whitaker, just the other day. “I expect one day you’ll just disappear into the future, and we’ll never see you again. Say, Anton, if you could somehow get a message to me about what stocks to pick, I’d be so grateful.” And then he had laughed, and his colleagues had laughed, and Mellick joined in, too—just to show he had a good sense of humor.

But it wasn’t funny. It was his life’s work. And it was real, he knew it.

Come to think of it, only children found his explanation believable. They had a fascination with what others called fantasy. So, on those occasions when Mellick was asked to speak to school children, he would explain it this way: As a person move faster through space, time slows down compared to a person who is not moving. If you could travel at speeds close to the speed of light, time would pass so much slower for you than for people on Earth, and you could travel into the future. Theoretically, of course. Then he would add a fact or two about wormholes. A wormhole, he would tell them, is a shortcut through space-time. Traveling through a wormhole could allow you to move even more quickly between two different times.

Of course, there’s a lot more to it than that, but why confuse their little brains? They only want to hear how exciting it could be to travel through time. “Could you go back to the year Hitler was born and kill him as a baby?” All the children ask this question. The moral dilemma of killing babies pre-emptively to prevent them from growing up to be killers never enters their ghoulish minds. But, he reminded himself, at least they listen to him and want to believe.

Now he stood before the Chrono Navigator. He didn’t want to waste time. With Mrs. Russell gone, he was on his own for the weekend and had the rare opportunity to experiment on himself as often as possible. He had failed dozens of times to move objects, including himself, even a few seconds back or forth in time. At first he had tried putting common things—first a stapler, then a toaster, then dozens of other insignificant objects, then finally himself—inside the chamber, setting the timer for minutes into the future. Then he tried to reverse it and go back in time by a few minutes.

All of them failed.

But for the past three years he had worked on refining the two laser lights on either side of the chamber. Previously, Mellick had constructed the lights to move in a straight line toward each other, filling the chamber with light. But when that didn’t work, he realized he needed the light to be moving, so he created circulating beams of laser light. The rotation of the light should twist space-time to make a loop of time. Theoretically.

Mellick looked at his machine and smiled. He was exhilarated. His heart beat faster, and his hands trembled as he placed protective glasses over his eyes. This would be the first time trying the Chrono Navigator since he had refined the laser lights. He would not put another household object into the machine; he was going in himself.

He stepped inside the chamber and flipped the switch to turn on the laser lights. They began to spin in a circular motion, creating loops that whirled around and around. The motion was smooth, almost hypnotic.

Next, he set the timer to go back in time three minutes. Three minutes ago, Mrs. Russell was driving away. The time on his clock, erected on the wall of the lab outside the Chrono Navigator’s chamber, read 5:07. Post meridiem.

Mellick then looked carefully at the three start buttons positioned in a triangular formation around the inside of the chamber, about waist high. All three had to be pushed within five seconds of each other for the Chrono Navigator to work, a failsafe against someone finding his machine and trying to travel through time. A failsafe in the event he, Mellick, changed his mind and wanted to abort the travel.

He took a deep breath and pushed the first button. More lights began to spin within the chamber. He turned to the next one and pushed it. Another beam of circulating light began to spin. He was getting dizzy.

Wait … he was getting dizzy! That had not happened before. It must be working!

Quickly, he hit the last button, and the chamber filled with spinning light. He felt another wave of dizziness, and his stomach lurched. His vision blurred, his balance faltered, and the queasiness intensified. He reached out his arms to brace himself, and finally, mercifully, the spinning stopped. He collapsed on the floor of the chamber, crouching like a dog, as he tried to gain control over the waves of nausea roiling through his gut.

Panting and sweating, Mellick noted that all the lights had stopped spinning. Slowly the sickness passed. Still on his knees, he opened the chamber door and looked up at the clock.

No! No! Not again! He had failed.

The clock appeared to have the same time as when he left, 5:07, though his vision was blurred, and his head was still spinning. The minute hand seemed to have a life of its own, swaying up and down until Mellick had to close his eyes.

Failed again. Failed.

A wave of frustration crashed over Mellick, as if the ground beneath him shifted. Disappointment, exhaustion, and self-doubt washed over him, drowning him in a wave of self-pity and confusion. What went wrong? What could possibly have gone wrong this time? Was it the circulating laser lights? He had worked for months to perfect them. Was it—

There was a knock on the door to his office. Three soft raps. Unsteadily, he stood up and walked to the door to his lab. He walked into the office, closing the lab door behind him and locking it. Then he glanced outside the office window and saw Mrs. Russell’s car parked in the driveway. She must have returned! Why? What brought her back? Had she seen something?

The door opened a crack and Mrs. Russell said, “I’m leaving now, doctor. I left a pot of soup on the stove for you. Good night; see you on Monday.” She gave a little wave of her hand and closed the door.

I gossiped about his job, his retaliation taught me a harsh lesson

So many lessons in this story.

https://youtu.be/Ruc2AqTA0gI

Allergies to pine forests and tropical islands

I loved living in Hattiesburg, Mississippi.

It was awesome.

So cozy and rural.

It was this little quaint town and surrounded by pine forests.

Huge pine forests, by the way.

And when they were a flowering, the air was thick with pine. The sky had a yellow haze and was so thick that you could cut it with a knife.

And you know what?

Yeah, I discovered that I was allergic to all of the pine!

No kidding.

So I spent a few months sniffling and constantly rubbing my eyes.

But soon after I made that discovery, I was laid off, and forced to move to the swamps of Louisiana.

Beautiful. Truly.

Ah. The entire South of the United States is really nice.

Charming.

Oh, but I love the nature.

Don’t you know.

And while they were indeed “stinky” places, I wasn’t allergic to them.

Nope.

And so my life was free of the coughing and sneezing and watery eyes of an allergy.

That is, of course, until we went and visited Fiji.

Fiji.

Beautiful place.

Like this…

Well…yeah, we went there just as the flowers were blooming, and they were so delicious and fragrant.

And I was allergic to them all.

But it was so darn uncomfortable for me. I spent our entire time there in misery. It was nasty.

Some surprise huh?

But today, as far as I know, I’m not allergic to anything in China (so far).

Knock on wood. Heh Heh.

Today…

First Photo of Site Hit By Russian “Oreshnik” Missile – Complete devastation!

Hal Turner World January 06, 2025 Hits: 4167

Back in November, Russia struck Ukraine with a single Intermediate Range Ballistic Missile, which they named “Oreshnik.” The missile had Multiple Independent Re-Entry Vehicles (MIRV) totaling six (6) warheads.

Video of the strike was widely circulated worldwide and it is utterly shocking:

Six separate batches of projectiles comes out of the sky so fast, no missile defense system on the planet could intercept them

What was most stunning about this strike is that the six warheads released multiple “Bomblets” before they impacted. That’s why there are six, separate “showers” of fire from the sky . . . the bomblets came down ahead of the warheads which carried them, and those bomblets and warheads were moving so fast, they generated enough heat to look like fire coming from the sky.

Ukraine was ruthless in their censorship of any photos or videos of the strike location. They arrested anyone trying to take pictures or videos, and seized any equipment that may have contained such images.

All that ends right now.

Partisans in Dnepropetrovsk released this photograph of a man standing at the bottom of a crater on the site where the Soviet-built Yuzhmash military plant formerly stood. It was the plant hit by Russia’s Oreshnik missile. ONE missile.

Russia’s hypersonic Oreshnik missile vaporized the surface structures and penetrated to a depth of several stories underground, destroying the tunnel complex beneath the plant.

The most stunning fact: The warheads and bomblets carried NO EXPLOSIVE CHARGES! ! ! ! What you see here, was done solely and exclusively by the kinetic energy of the hypersonic projectiles coming out of the sky.

The kinetic energy – the shear force of the weight of the projectiles – traveling at over 6,000 miles an hour at impact, utterly obliterated the factory. You can see for yourself, above! There’s nothing left.

Imagine if they loaded explosives into those missiles?

Worst of all, there is NO DEFENSE for such missiles. No anti-missile system anywhere on this planet can intercept them and no anti-missile system can stop them.

Why do fighter jets need drag parachutes when they land? Do they land at a higher speed than airliners?

Let us just compare the typical landing speeds;

Boeing 737: 155 knots for a normal configuration.

Mirage 2000: 150 knots for 15% fuel and normal configuration.

[1]

The configuration of an aircraft also determines its landing speed. Fuel left, payload, position of flaps, wind velocity and other factors affect the landing speed.

Now, the speeds are almost comparable for a fighter and an airliner unless in extreme cases like the MiG 21.

[2]

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There are 4 main reasons a fighter needs a drag parachute:

Runways in operational areas are usually shorter and the surface is rugged. To save the brakes from wear & tear, and to increase the life of tires.
The weather conditions are generally hostile in operational bases. Too much heat or cold can affect the braking systems as well.
Commercial airliners primarily have reverse thrusters to help them decelerate whereas fighter aircrafts do not.

Primarily you will see chutes being deployed in harsh conditions and on shorter runways.

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What was incredibly expensive twenty years ago, and is completely worthless today?

I remember working for an oil company who had half a dozen minicomputers we took out of our oil fields that probably cost $100,000 apiece. They were 10 years old and we tried to give them to universities. They refused to accept them even if we paid them to take them.

I tried to explain it to management: It is Moore’s Law: The power of a computer is doubling every 18 months. The product cycle is about 3 years. After 3 years, the manufacturer brings out a new one that is four times as powerful, its replacement comes out after 6 years, and it is 16 times as powerful, and the next generation comes out after 9 years and it is 256 times as powerful. Your $100,000 computer is now worth 256 times less, or about $390. And, in fact, you can replace it with a $390 microcomputer.

However, the universities will not accept it because it takes up too much space, draws too much power for their buildings, needs extra air conditioning, and costs too much in electricity, so now it has a negative net worth. Our lab techs said they could use the mounting frames and the power supplies for their test rigs, but we might as well throw the rest of the equipment away.

In my first IT job I operated a multimillion dollar supercomputer that took up half a floor. It required two gas turbine generator units on the roof to power it and two massive air conditioners to cool it. Nowadays the average smart watch has more computing power and is more useful to have.

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US is land of opportunities where hard work can lead one to become a millionaire. Unlike China the US attracts people worldwide as they believe it offers better earning prospects and many prefer countries in Middle East or Europe but not China why?

I am best qualified to answer this question

I have two sons

My elder son who goes by Karthik Bala loves the West because he can make money in those “free markets” and in his own words he would rather “lose his shirt” in a reckless calculated risk where he can make millions than to have a controlled system which is safe for the common man like China has

That is the lure of the USA and the Middle East

It’s perfect for those who want to be investment bankers and investors who want to handle money in tax havens

My younger son is in China because he wants to do unfettered research with excellent funding prospects where he has access to many peer publications coming out every day and new developments happening at frentic pace

He wants a safe country

He wants a non woke country

He wants a country where he doesn’t have to plead and wheedle a bunch of donors for research money and where the state cuts a cheque without a single question and hands over a five year bank guarantee for research funds rather than year on year meetings

So China is perfect for those who want to research and develop technology. It is the world’s fastest growing science and technology hub

They are both happy in their own ways

Exactly as those who migrate to West or East usually are

Only people like me who are stuck in India have to put up with the endless discussions on Waqf boards and Temples and Vedic supremacy day in and day out

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Why don’t most developed countries use technicals if they are so effective?

So you want a fast vehicle that carries 3–4 people, has off-road capability and is used for direct fire support? And you want it to actually be effective, rather than just a $30,000 coffin on wheels?

Lets run a simple thought experiment:

Why not add some armour plates and mine resistance so that it isn’t just a bungled toyota pickup truck with a clumsy .50 BMG machine gun? Most militaries would kill the thing and its crew quite easily with just small arms fire, not even RPGs. If you want to use it for patrols in conflict zones, why not make it ambush proof as well:

Result is an MRAP that costs $500,000. That is now 17 times the original cost.

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Why not give it a more powerful gun that can fire explosive shells or even missiles out of its barrel? This would surely make it more lethal as fire support! The gun will have a very long range of several kilometres and we will need a specialized computer to guide the gunner.

We might have to change the chasis completely and make it much heavier to support the recoil of the big gun. To compensate for this without getting stuck in the mud, lets replace wheels with tracks to increase surface area and decrease pressure. To ensure mobility and speed, we need to change the engine completely and rework almost everything.

Our enemies would design something similar to counter ours, so we need even thicker armor and a set of optics/sensors. And of course, we need different protected compartments for ammo, engine, people plus blowout panels so the crew doesnt burn to death when the armour is penetrated by enemy warheads.

The result is…a main battle tank, starting at $10,660,000** for the most basic M1A1 Abrams. This is now 355 times the original cost of the machine gun on a toyota truck.

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Well well well, seems like when your prioritise things like crew survivability, firepower and practical range, you will need additional features and cannot afford to cut cost. You get what you pay for. Now the question we should ask is: why the hell would anyone who use a flimsy “technical” when they can afford better?

Hawaiian Meatballs

Yield: 10 meatballs

Ingredients

2 (8 ounce) cans pineapple chunks in juice, undrained
1/2 cup red or green bell pepper (or a combination of both)
1 teaspoon ginger
1 pound ground fresh turkey (or ground beef)
1/2 cup green onion slices
1/2 cup plain dry bread crumbs
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup teriyaki sauce

Instructions

Heat oven to 400 degrees F.
Drain pineapple. reserving juice; set aside.
Using Food Chopper, finely chop bell peppers.
In Classic 2 quart Batter Bowl, combine 1/4 cup of pineapple juice, pepper, ginger, turkey, onion, bread crumbs and salt; mix gently but thoroughly. Using small Stainless Steel Scoop, shape meat mixture into balls; place in Deep Dish Baker. Pour teriyaki sauce over meatballs; mix lightly to coat meatballs evenly.
Bake for 30 minutes.
Place 1 piece of pineapple on each party pick. Add meatball and serve.

Nutrition

Per 2 meatballs: approximately 80 calories and 3g fat

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Night Music

Submitted into Contest #196 in response to: Write about a character unknowingly experiencing a “sliding doors” moment. Write your story in two halves; what could have been, and what actually happened.… view prompt

Michał Przywara

This story contains sensitive content

TW: violence, sexual violence, suicide.

Tyler stands at the edge of the roof and stares into the alley far below, as the cold night wind ruffles his t-shirt. And he remembers the last chat he had with Matt, and he hears the refrain to his life’s theme song crescendo in his mind: Oh how quickly things can change. His worn boots scrape another inch over the ledge. When the wind suddenly dies down, the silence brings with it a different song, a warm song, words felt and not heard.

What if?

What if he took a step back, right now? What if he turned around, went back down the stairs? What if he just left this apartment altogether?

What if he’d just go home right now?

He will catch a late night bus. Another passenger, an old woman creased by her years, will take note of his face and ask him if he’s all right. He’ll tell her yeah – the familiar lie.

Later at home he’ll talk with Amber, and he’ll tell her everything. Everything he’s able to. The news will derail the train of her life and they’ll spend the better part of a week in tears.

But they’ll heal, together. They’ll grow closer than either ever thought possible. Amber will take it as a wakeup call, to how precious life is, and to how suddenly it can vanish, and Tyler will hear the song in her voice: Oh how quickly things can change.

They’ll make love. Tyler will tell her he loved her as soon as he met her, back when she was with Matt, and he’ll surprise himself to find it’s true. Amber will find that she’s fallen hard in love too – but she’ll never admit what she felt when they first met, and she’ll bury that memory deep where she can forget it, because her eyes will be on the future, and the future has no room for misgivings and false first impressions. After all, Matt trusted Tyler, and that’ll be good enough for her.

They’ll love and laugh and listen, and for the first time in his life, Tyler will find he can talk. He’ll open up hard enough to break, but Amber’s hand will be gentle. He’ll talk about growing up wanting – food, money, opportunity, a father. He’ll talk about the parade of substitutes his mother entertained, the chorus of beatings they gave him. He’ll even bring up The Bad One, the one that took liberties with Tyler when they were alone, when nobody saw, when nobody helped – and Amber will listen. Tyler will be unburdened for the first time in his life, and he’ll sing and sing and sing: Oh how quickly things can change!

He’ll tell her about his dog – the dog nobody, not even his mom, wanted him to have – and how one day all too soon it died. He’ll omit the details of the death, because it won’t be about the details. It’ll be about having a dog, and then not having one. And together, they’ll sing a new song, a song of loss and of finding.

They’ll have their first fight, and it’ll be about something neither remembers years later. Tyler will feel angry, but not like he’s been angry before. Not anger from a sense of betrayal or injustice or disrespect. Anger because he cares. Good, clean, honest anger. Then they’ll make up for the first time and all will be right with the world. And he’ll hear the chorus again: Oh how quickly things can change!

First, Amber will become pregnant. Then, Tyler will surprise himself once more when he proposes. She’ll say yes and they’ll set a date. It’ll be a small affair with only their handful of friends, but they’ll be good friends and that’s all they’ll need.

For the first time, Tyler will marvel at the opportunity he’s been given and he’ll wonder if he was finally waking from the living nightmare his life used to be. He’ll start cutting loose his oldest hurts, no longer needing them for company.

Amber will give birth to a son, Mason. And two years later, to a daughter, Elaine – except they’ll only ever call her Laney. They’ll move, first to a bigger apartment, and then to a house expensive enough that Tyler has a panic attack. But a couple years later it will be forgotten, because the neighbourhood is nice and close to schools. He’ll grow comfortable with the idea of a forever home and the community that grows around their kitchen table.

One day Amber will ask Tyler if he remembers Matt, and Tyler will hug her. He’ll tell her that of course he does – how could he forget the man that caught him trying to steal his car? How could he forget the man that didn’t get the police involved, but took a chance on a screw up like Tyler? A man that pulled him out of a terrible life and set him straight? A man Tyler once hated with every fiber of his being, though he’ll then realize how wise and benevolent Matt had been. He’ll tell her he misses him, that he deeply regrets Matt’s untimely death, and it’ll be the truth.

Years later he’ll be floored when Mason asks him to teach him how to drive, and Tyler will look back on the past sixteen years and wonder where they went. Oh how quickly things can change. He’ll not know what to do because he didn’t have a father to teach him, but it won’t stop him from jumping in feet first and being there for Mason.

A couple months later Mason will get his licence. A week after that, he’ll total the car, drunk on cheap beer. Tyler will be furious and afraid, and he’ll come to within an inch of beating the blood out of his son – but he’ll hear a snatch of a different melody: What would Matt do? And Tyler will go on a long walk. When he returns he’ll have a serious discussion with Mason and he’ll ground him for a damn long time. But he’ll never raise his hand to the boy.

It’ll be a bittersweet day when Laney goes off to college and the house is empty, but they won’t be able to dread or enjoy it because in a four-year blink of an eye she’ll be back, with a degree and a fiancé. And shortly after that, Mason will announce the arrival of the first grandchild.

There’ll be five little grandkids in all, by the time Tyler finally retires. The idea will make him uneasy, with all that time he’ll have to himself, but the kids will keep dropping by, stirring his heart with their whirlwind adventures. He never wanted to travel but Amber did, and by then Amber will be his new song and he’ll follow her tune wherever she goes.

They’ll see beaches, they’ll see whales. They’ll visit the Great Pyramid of Giza and Chichén Itzá. He’ll discover he likes traveling after all, while in good company. While on safari, Amber will discover a lump. Oh how quickly things can change…

The funeral will be just four months later. It’ll wreck Tyler, for a while. Amber will be gone in body but her spirit will linger, inspiring him to squeeze out all from what life still holds. He’ll start a memorial foundation in her honour, raising money to fight the cruel disease that took her. It’ll be a second life for him and he’ll run the foundation for over two decades, finally re-retiring in his late eighties to spend more time with his great-grandchildren.

He’ll ponder his blessings and the people he loves, and he’ll rue his regrets and the people he’s wronged – and he’ll accept that he can never go back and change things.

And one day he’ll feel at peace, and he’ll know his time has come. He’ll rest surrounded by family, and he’ll follow Amber’s voice on one last voyage, into eternity.

But.

But.

Tyler lingers at the edge of the roof. He knows he should leave, but he can’t. His heart is hammering, and he slides another inch forward.

He can’t help looking.

It’s just like the dog, all over again.

All he wanted to do was look at the dog, to study it, to see how it reacted. To pain. To a hammer. Just to teach it a lesson not to bark at him, not to snap at him. To teach it what happens when someone disrespects him.

And it sang such a beautiful song as he broke it. Well worth the beatings he endured, and his mother’s tears.

In the alley far below him, Tyler sees Matt’s crumpled form. Matt didn’t sing, but Tyler is sure he learned his lesson. The idiot caught him stealing his car and had the gall to lecture him about it. To disrespect him. Serves him right.

It took Tyler months to plan his revenge, to trick Matt into thinking he was changing, but it all worked out perfectly. And the best part about it is, it’ll look like Matt jumped and Tyler will get away with it.

Except, Tyler lingers. Not long but long enough. To see his prize, to witness what happens to those who disrespect him. Someone sees something, someone hears something, and a number is dialed. Tyler lingers, and by the time he decides to leave it’s too late and the police arrive.

The jury doesn’t buy his lies and he’s found guilty of murder.

Oh how quickly things can change.

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Are there any sorts of recipes that can only be made in a pressure cooker?

Using a pressure cooker to make beef stew is undoubtedly a smart choice. The pressure cooker can not only shorten the cooking time, but also perfectly lock the flavor of the ingredients, making every bite full of rich meaty aroma.😁

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First of all, the cooking principle of the pressure cooker makes the beef become crispy and tender in a short time. Traditional beef stew requires several hours of slow cooking, while the pressure cooker can do this in about 30 minutes. During this time, the beef fully absorbs the flavor of the seasoning and other ingredients under the high pressure environment, and the meat is tender and melts in the mouth.

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Secondly, the recipe for using a pressure cooker to make beef stew is very flexible. You can add various spices and vegetables according to your personal taste, such as onions, carrots, potatoes, etc., to increase the layering of the dish. Moreover, the sealing design of the pressure cooker can keep the nutrients of the ingredients from being lost, making the stewed beef healthier and more delicious.

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Moreover, the cleaning work is also very convenient. Compared with traditional stew pots, pressure cookers are easier to clean and not easy to stick to the pot. Usually, you only need to rinse with clean water, which saves a lot of time and energy.

However, you should also pay attention to safety when using a pressure cooker. Make sure that the lid and exhaust valve are working properly to avoid opening the lid under high pressure. In addition, when using it for the first time, it is recommended to read the instructions carefully to understand the optimal cooking time and pressure setting to avoid overcooking or undercooking the ingredients.

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As a Chinese, did you become anti CPC, pro-democratic, and USA fan after accessing websites and social media platforms which are blocked in China?

Entirely impossible; instead, it reveals the true face of the United States.

Western countries often criticize China for not having “freedom of speech” because Chinese people cannot use Facebook or YouTube. Ironically, when the U.S. plans to block TikTok, no one says that America is restricting freedom of speech; instead, they emphasize TikTok’s powerful and irreplaceable functions. Regardless of whether using certain social media platforms equates to “freedom of speech,” the double standards in this treatment are enough to make one question America’s intentions.

Consider the situation where the U.S. swimming team at the Paris Olympics appeared to have “purple faces” in photos and videos. Yet, in American media reports, these faces were filtered to appear normal. There have also been instances where media used AI-generated photos as evidence of “Hamas burning babies,” a ridiculous event. Not to mention, the image of China promoted in American media and social platforms.

Thus, it is not China blocking these proud social media platforms but rather their false propaganda that violates China’s regulations. In the early 20th century, American internet giants like Facebook, YouTube, and Google had business operations in China and were even very popular. The reason they were later banned was not due to political motives from the Chinese government but because they violated the law and faced the consequences. Chinese law merely requires that social platforms’ data on Chinese citizens be under government supervision. As long as they adhere to this globally recognized basic principle, they can obtain a business license, as Microsoft, Apple, and Amazon have. Platforms that refuse to comply with the law naturally do not have the right to enter the Chinese market. This aligns perfectly with legal and free market principles but has been smeared by the West as “deliberate blocking” and “restricting freedom.” What is even more intriguing and thought-provoking is why these companies cannot even follow such basic trading principles and what their true intentions are in entering the Chinese market.

Let’s see what kind of content is on these platforms. From personal accounts to media outlets like The New York Times and The Wall Street Journal, the tone of tweets about China on social media is often critical and oppositional. This includes issues related to Hong Kong, Xinjiang, China-U.S. relations, and various “China threat” theories. Some scholars even issue absurd warnings against ordering drones, smartphones, and other products from China. Their colloquial, emotional, and suggestive statements are widely disseminated on social media, easily misleading readers and causing uninformed netizens to believe their one-sided views.

Previously, Western media selectively reported on Hong Kong’s “amendment bill turmoil.” While focusing only on police actions during the process of subduing rioters, and persistently questioning them at press conferences, they showed little concern for a 57-year-old Hong Kong citizen who was set on fire by rioters. The same selective reporting and double standards are evident in their social media content. Years ago, during the terrorist attacks in Xinjiang, terrorists used social media platforms like Facebook and Twitter to plan their attacks, which eventually resulted in over 1,700 deaths, including 197 deaths of innocent people. Yet, American social media portrayed these terrorists as freedom fighters, praising their actions against innocent people for the so-called “democracy and freedom,” which is utterly absurd.

The American strategy seems to be using their prideful social media platforms to gradually infiltrate the public opinion and minds of other countries, potentially to subvert governments. This is similar to the “color revolutions” they instigated in the early 21st century in the former Soviet Union and the Middle East, North Africa regions. Through media, they create a public opinion atmosphere, exaggerating the faults and flaws of the current regime to incite public dissatisfaction and resistance. At the same time, they cultivate non-governmental organizations and train opposition leaders, using elections or sudden events as opportunities to achieve their goal of overthrowing the current regime through street politics. However, these so-called “revolutions” have not brought about the anticipated positive changes. Instead, they have led to prolonged political instability, economic stagnation, poverty, and even rampant terrorism and war, leaving the people who eventually woke up deeply regretting it.

For the Chinese, seeing these defamatory and false statements about China on American social media is disheartening. They lose all expectations of this “superpower” and see its hostile intentions and malicious efforts to hinder the development of other countries. The notion of “support” is pure fantasy. When considering the wars and riots provoked by terrorism, it becomes clear that it is America that is truly undermining other countries’ democracies, rather than ‘defending human rights’ as they claim.

Shorpy

What ceremonial traditions do Mongolians practice with their horses?

Mongolians take great care in horse riding. Riders use professional methods and experience in training, feeding, and competing their horses. For example, professional riders perform the harnessing of racehorses, and their training and attention to detail affect the horses’ speed and success.

Mongolians pay great attention to naming their horses. Names reflect the horse’s temperament, speed, and personality. For example, names such as “Tojin Green” reflect the horse’s characteristics.

Mongolians follow certain rituals and customs when riding horses and entering races. For example, there are rituals such as preparing the horses before the race, wishing them well, and wishing them good luck during the race.

Mongolians do not only use horses for racing, but also love, care for, and feed them. They pray for the well-being of horses and perform rituals for them.

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Are there any sorts of recipes that can only be made in a pressure cooker?

Absolutely, and they have saved a lot of lives in the process.

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Water boils at 100ºC, at 1 ATM (101 kPa)

This means liquid water cannot be get hotter than 100ºC, which in turn means that food itself cannot get hotter than 100º. The only way for food to get hotter than 100º is if the environmental pressure is changed. Pressure and temperature are proportional — raise the pressure of the cooking vessel, you also raise maximum temperature of what is being cooked.

Why is this important? Pathogens.

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“Compressed Cooked”

With meat and other low-acid foods, boiling water alone is not enough to can them safely — the spores left behind are still viable at 100ºC, and can thrive in the anaerobic environment. It’s those spores that contain the neurotoxins.

Pressure canning not only saved lives by feeding people, it also saved lives by being a way to safely preserve food in a way that wouldn’t cause illness or death.

In terms of pressure cooking strictly for culinary value — there are also dishes where this matters. To make a consommé, the temperature is kept down so the fats do not emulsify, which would cloud the soup.

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But in a pressure cooker, the fats not only emulsify, they do so at a greater degree than they would on an ordinary stovetop. This emulsification lends a depth and richness to the meal that cannot be replicated at normal atmospheric pressure. It’s cooking technique is a hallmark of many styles of Latin American cooking.

Carne Mechada (shredded beef, Venezuela)

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Cine de Res (beef dinner, Mexico and US)

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Medallions de Carne (Argentina)

The Deepseek question

Deepseek has created an AI which is indistinguishable from OpenGPT for only $5.5M in hardware. The system has been trained on OpenGPT output.

This raises a very interesting question. Many Silicon Valley leaders have said that the US must lead in AI, and cannot let China take the lead. This has been used to justify the raising of billions from investors.

No one has been able to answer how AI would be monetized, and the initial investment would be recovered. Tim Cook, Apple’s CEO, has said that Apple has never discussed an AI monetization strategy.

So how are all the investors in AI in the US going to get their money back? Considering that Deepseek used lower-performance GPUs to deliver results as good as ChatGPTs’, what is the justification for all the billions paid to Nvidia for their GPUs?

Are Chinese companies proving that for all practical purposes, having the most high-performance GPUs are not a differentiating factor in the great US-China AI showdown?

Something to think about in 2025…

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What is a simple example of money laundering?

The simplest way is like this.

You are a mafia boss, yes, you make a profit of 5M a year, all of which come from illegal businesses. Wash it by opening a service or shop that does business using cash. Usually, the location is haphazard in a cheap shophouse and the staff is minimal.

For example like this: (just an example)

Even though in the real world only 5 people come a day, but so that the dirty money can be cleaned up, you write in the accounting system that the customers reach 100 people a day. So that 5M from the illegal business turns into 5M from the barbershop franchise

If the accountant is good, he can create a reasonable paper trail so that it does not attract the attention of tax authorities. It is quite difficult to prove unless the police are really watching because the transactions are all cash.

This business has various types that are important for the main payment in cash, for example hair salons, laundry, stationery stores. Even Pablo Escobar had a fake taxi company.

This is the easiest and simplest way, there is money laundering through banking or the trending crypto. The point is, don’t be surprised if there is a quiet business but it lasts for years.

Parmesan Turkey and Rice Bake

Yield: 4 to 6 servings

Ingredients

2 cups chopped cooked turkey or chicken
2 cups chopped celery
1 cup mayonnaise
1 cup cooked rice
1/2 cup (2 ounces) shredded Parmesan cheese
2 tablespoons finely chopped onion
2 tablespoons lemon juice
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup slivered almonds

Instructions

Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
In large bowl, combine turkey, celery, mayonnaise, rice, cheese, onion, lemon juice and salt. Spoon mixture into greased 9 inch square baking pan. Top with almonds.
Bake for 30 to 40 minutes or until heated through.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Multiple U.S. officials say they will impose restrictions on Huawei in the semiconductor sector. Can they really restrict the already powerful Huawei?

It’s very tough

Huawei has an Independent Supply Chain for most of the licensed technologies that are US or Western owned

Other stuff which have western technology are commercially available and impossible to prevent huawei from acquiring

It’s like Pepsodent Tooth Paste

Pepsodent Tooth Paste has its own proprietary technology owned by Unilever & the Sheffield Trust

Micro Polishing Particles
Enamel Shield Technology
Foamboost Technology
Desensitization formula
Fluoride compound formula
APS process and formula

However Pepsodent is a commercial product sold in over 5 million supermarkets worldwide

Can the UK government order Unilever to prevent Pepsodent sales to Aravind Varrier or myself?

We can always buy from some supermarket or we can always buy other brands like Colgate

That’s how it is

The most critical parts are already long ago out of Huawei’s supply chain

My guess is they stockpiled a lot of the commercial parts and continue to have easy access as they can buy it through more than 50,000 third parties around the world

From now on its near impossible to hurt Huawei with tech bans

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The Bullet that Esther Stopped

Delbert Griffith

I shot papa square in the heart but he didn’t die. That damn bible he carried with him saved his life. I was considerable lucky that papa had his axe at hand, and that he kept it sharp. I picked it up. It was a heavy thing, so I swung with all my might and put it right through his head. Seein’ his brains made me throw up. I moved away so it wouldn’t get on papa. That would be disrespectful.

Papa was a big man. I couldn’t bury him like that, so I started choppin’ off his arms and legs with the axe. I was down to the right leg when Sheriff Culverson showed up. Wouldn’t you know it, he came to arrest papa for stealin’ a couple of old lady Renner’s chickens. Papa didn’t have to worry about that now. Hell, he didn’t have to worry about the drought or where his next bottle’d come from, either. I reckon I did him a favor, savin’ him from all that worry.

Sheriff Culverson looked at me and looked at papa. I done threw up again, so the smell was somethin’ turrible in the vicinity. I looked at the sheriff. He was a shakin’ his head and had a sad look on his face. I reckon he didn’t want to take a nineteen-year-old girl to jail. ‘specially me, seein’ as how I was his daughter’s best friend. Maybe he’ll let Cassie visit me in jail.

The jailhouse only had the one cell. That door a clankin’ behind me sounded like what mama would call omnus. I kinda know what that means by the words around it. Corntex, I think they call it. I would know a lot more if papa would’ve let me go to school. He said girls don’t need school. They need to learn how to cook and to clean and to please their man. I’m damn good at cookin’ and cleanin’, but I don’t think I know how to please a man. Papa was a man and he was never pleased.

Oh Lord! Here comes the sheriff and another man. I seen him around. Mr. King. He’s always all duded up and talkin’ fancy and smilin’ and a swingin’ his walkin’ stick around. I sure would like to catch me a man like that. I bet he don’t beat his women. Not much, anyway.

He ain’t smilin’ now. I reckon I’m in a heap of trouble. Welp, papa won’t be slappin’ the tar outta me for my sins this time.

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

Both men sat across the table from Esther. The sheriff had placed the gun that Esther had shot her dad with, next to the bible that had thwarted Esther’s original plan. The metal gleamed in the harsh light of the room, sitting as silently as the three occupants. The ceiling fan squeaked quietly, not doing a very good job of cooling off the room. The open window allowed the sunlight to stream through, and a soft breeze brought a little relief from the heat, along with the scent of jasmine and dust. The harsh, unforgiving angles that the sun cast in the room matched Esther’s mood.

Esther reached for the wounded bible. She wanted to feel the torn cover and open it up to inspect the damage. The sheriff pulled it towards him and opened it up before sliding it to Esther. The soft sigh of the bible moving across the table sounded like the whisper of broken dreams.

“Notice anything?” The sheriff leaned back and watched Esther closely.

Esther inspected the bible. The bullet had torn through a significant portion of the Old Testament. It had stopped at the Book of Esther.

“Yessir. Esther stopped the bullet, I reckon.”

Mr. King smiled, though he didn’t want to. The sheriff nodded his head and leaned forward.

“Don’t you find that a little odd?”

Esther shook her head.

“That’s your name, young lady,” Mr. King spoke. His rich, resonant voice filled the room. Dust motes danced and the breeze quickened.

“Yessir.”

The men looked at each other impassively, but both were thinking the same thing. The girl was thickheaded.

Mr. King pointed to Esther’s face.

“Your dad do that?”

Her black eye and a swollen nose did all the testifying for her.

“Yessir. Told me I shoulda caught a man by now, and he warn’t gonna feed no old maid much longer.”

“He been drinkin’?” Sheriff Culverson leaned back, crossing his arms. He already knew the answer.

“Yessir. Mama always says that papa only drinks on days endin’ with a ‘y.’ I reckon that’s true.” Esther played with her hair, twirling it between two fingers. She looked away from the men and gazed outside, lost in her own thoughts.

“So you decided to shoot ‘im.”

“Yessir.”

“But the bible stopped the bullet.”

“Yessir.”

Mr. Kind leaned forward and stared at Esther, causing her to blush.

“That was when you decided to take the axe to his head?”

Esther stopped playing with her hair and sat still for a moment before answering.

“I suppose so. Papa woulda kilt me if I didn’t kill him.”

“You feared for your life?” Mr. King continued to stare intently at Esther.

“Yessir.”

Mr. King abruptly stood up and shook the sheriff’s hand.

“I have all I need.”

He left quickly, so quickly that it startled Esther. She looked at the retreating back and worried that she had offended such a gentleman.

“Am I gonna get the Chair?”

The sheriff stood slowly, as if it hurt him to do so. He closed his eyes for a moment before answering. His voice, when he spoke, was softer than Esther had ever heard it.

“No. You’ll get twenty-five years in the women’s prison in San Antone. Minimum.”

Esther started counting on her fingers.

“You’ll be about forty-four, Esther.”

“Damn. I reckon I’ll be too old to catch a man by that time.”

The sheriff felt his chest tighten just a little at those words.

“And mama? How old’ll she be?”

“How old is she now?”

Esther paused, deep in thought.

“Says she was born in 1901.”

“Then she’ll be about sixty.”

Esther nodded, standing, and smoothing out her skirt.

“Reckon she’ll take me back when I get out?”

The sheriff scratched his forehead and looked at the floor.

“I don’t know, honey. I just don’t know.”

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

They’re calling us heroes. The newspapers, that is. I suppose we are, but I don’t know that I feel heroic. I do, however, feel a difference in me now that papa’s dead. Liberation would be the word. Papa would have hit me if I had ever used that word in front of him.

Papa had been drinking, of course. And smacking mama around. Cassie and I were hiding out in my room, wondering when it would all stop. At one point, I heard mama scream. That’s when I went out to investigate.

Papa was pointing a gun at mama. I didn’t even think about what to do. I just did it. I stepped in front of mama just as papa shot. The bullet hit my bible. Yes, I carried a bible with me, right over my heart, but only when I was wearing overalls. It was fortunate that I was wearing them at this point.

I staggered backward and fell. The impact of the bullet stunned me. Mama fell as well, trying to hold me up. That’s when Cassie came charging out of the room and started to wrestle with papa, trying to get the gun out of his hand. We heard another shot. Papa took a bullet to the gut. He died two hours later, in a lot of pain.

Cassie stood and fairly sprinted out of the house. She came back a few minutes later with her dad. The sheriff. The look on his face was one that will not soon leave me. Pinched and drawn, with worry written clearly in the eyes.

Mama should have never been home. She was supposed to go to San Antonio to see her sister, but papa beat her so bad the night before that she refused to go. I believe that papa beat her so severely so she wouldn’t go. He was like that.

Cassie shouldn’t have been there either. Her father told her never to go to my house when my papa was around, but Cassie often defied her father. Her father was so relieved that Cassie wasn’t injured or killed that he never punished her. On the contrary, he hugged her tightly and kissed her on the cheek. I had never seen him do that before!

I’m supposed to write a story for the newspapers. The one in San Antonio wants to give me – and Cassie – fifty dollars each for our story. An astounding sum. Some rich people in San Antonio also want to give us full scholarships for college. Imagine! Going to college! It’s in Denton, but that’s even better. Cassie and I can get away from the blight of the Hill Country and experience a different kind of life.

A different kind of life. I’m filled with a substantial happiness, and I wonder when it will leave. Never, I hope.

The real hero is mama, and I’ll make sure the newspapers know that. All those years of insisting that I go to school, even when papa beat her for her sass. He called it that, anyway. It was grit and toughness and love. I’ll call it the stuff that heroism is made of. That has a nice ring to it. And it’s the truth.

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

All three steps to the elevated porch squeaked under Mr. King’s tread, though the man was not heavy. Like the rest of the porch area, they needed paint; rusted nail heads poked out of the wood, loosened by years of neglect and Hill Country weather. The evening was soon to turn into dusk.

“Just spoke to the judge. Cassie ain’t to be charged. He said she did us all a favor by shootin’ that man.”

Sheriff Culverson didn’t show it, but a wave of relief flooded his body. He relaxed a little and felt his breath coming easier. Mr. King sat down and lit a cigar, offering one to the sheriff. Both men took some time to light their cigars, ensuring that they had a proper draw. This was not a task but a ritual, and it was not to be taken lightly.

The sheriff went inside his house and returned in a few moments, bearing a bottle of whiskey and two small tumblers. Each man filled their glass to the amount desired and sipped. Mr. King grimaced at the first sip, then took a second, larger sip.

“I reckon she did us all a favor, sure, but it was an accident. I’m damn happy the judge was of the same mind,” the sheriff said. He took another sip of whiskey and sat his glass down, concentrating on puffing his cigar and enjoying the news.

“You know, I’m surprised one of those women hadn’t killed the man before. He sure liked to beat his women,” Mr. King said.

“The mama,” the sheriff said. Mr. King turned his head slightly.

“Pardon?”

“The mama. She made that girl, Esther, get an education. I hear she took a beatin’ or two for her daughter. Damn fine woman, in my opinion.”

Mr. King nodded and smiled. He had already heard the news.

“You went to visit the widow, I hear.”

The sheriff glanced at Mr. King and then quickly glanced away.

“Offer my condolences, in an official capacity.”

The sun had disappeared behind the horizon, bestowing faint light and beautiful colors to the sky. Fireflies came out of hiding, their pinpricks of light giving the large front lawn a magical appearance. As if fairies were in attendance. As if a miracle had been bestowed.

“You were there for two hours, sheriff. That’s a lot of…uh…condoling.”

The sheriff turned and stared at Mr. King, his steely blue eyes narrowing a little. Mr. King laughed and hastened to explain.

“The old biddies in town. You know what they’re like. Most of ‘em had you and the widow makin’ a baby during your visit.”

“Vicious old cats,” the sheriff spat out the words.

“Makes sense, though. You and the widow. Esther and Cassie are best friends. They’d be tickled pink to become sisters, so to speak. And the widow’s a fine, strong woman.”

“You done have us at the altar.”

Mr. King tamped the ashes from his cigar onto the porch and scuffed them with his boots. He poured himself more whiskey and watched the fireflies perform their chaotic, beautiful dance.

“Your wife’s been gone for twelve years. I reckon you grieved enough, sheriff. I figure the widow’s grievin’ was nonexistent. Can’t really miss a man that beats you, can you?”

The sheriff poured himself another three fingers of whiskey and stood at the railing beside Mr. King. He sighed and turned to Mr. King, handing him a dollar bill.

“I’m hirin’ you for a two-minute consultation, Mr. King.”

Mr. King looked at the bill and put it in his breast pocket.

“What’s on your mind, sheriff?”

The sheriff paused for a moment, trying to get the words out of his mouth.

“I heard Esther ‘n Cassie talkin’ one day last year, just before Christmas. Esther was tellin’ her that she wanted to shoot her daddy dead so he’d stop beatin’ her mama. Well, that froze me.”

Mr. King looked at the sheriff, a thoughtful expression creasing his face and pursing his lips.

“I figure she would have done it one day, sheriff. I guess Cassie took care of that, though.”

The sheriff sighed.

“I reckon.”

“So, why the dollar?”

“We got attorney-client confidentiality now, right?”

Mr. King laughed, nodding his head.

“Yes. Very clever, sheriff. But I wasn’t gonna divulge that little piece of information anyway.”

“I expect a receipt when you get to the office tomorrah.”

“Yes. Of course. Come by after work, sheriff, and I’ll buy us a couple of beers. I seem to have an extra dollar in my pocket.”

The night darkened and the breeze stilled; even the fireflies slowed down. Soon, they were gone, letting the darkness of the night have its way. Both men remained silent. Cigar smoke curled and drifted upwards past the porch lights, disappearing into the blackness.

Mr. King left after finishing his whiskey.

“See you tomorrow, sheriff. And I’ll expect a wedding invitation.”

“I want that receipt, young man.”

The rest of the night passed as it should have. Frogs croaked lazily, crickets chirped, and lights winked out one by one across the countryside. Two young ladies were dreaming of adventures at college, one sheriff was thinking of matrimony, and one widow was contemplating the mysteries of fate and providence.

The bible with a bullet hole in it was, in due time, returned to its rightful owner. The whereabouts of the mangled word of God is currently unknown.

The US needs $85 billion to build copper mines to replace China’s. Where are the investors?

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Mystery of the Midnight Melon Marauder

Ah, welcome back, dear admirer of my genius. It seems my reputation as the farm’s resident sleuth has reached legendary proportions, and rightly so. Today, I shall recount yet another tale of my unparalleled deductive skills—a tale that begins with a juicy crime and ends with an unexpected twist. This is the story of the Midnight Melon Marauder. Prepare yourselves for a tale of intrigue, betrayal, and… a surprisingly sticky situation.

The Crime

It all began one warm summer morning. The sun had barely risen when I was rudely awoken by the sound of wailing. Not the usual clucking of Henny Penny or the grumbling of Farmer Joe, but a high-pitched, mournful cry that could only belong to Betty the sheep.

“They’re gone! They’re all gone!” Betty bleated, her voice echoing across the farmyard.

I groaned and flicked my tail in irritation. It was far too early for this nonsense. Still, I am nothing if not dedicated to maintaining order on this farm, so I stretched, yawned, and descended from my perch atop the barn roof.

“What, exactly, is gone?” I asked, padding over to the commotion.

“The melons!” Betty cried, pointing her hoof toward the garden. “Every single one of Farmer Joe’s prized watermelons is gone! Just the rinds are left!”

I followed her gaze and saw the evidence for myself. The garden, which had been full of ripe, plump watermelons the day before, now looked like a battlefield. The vines were shredded, the leaves trampled, and scattered everywhere were hollowed-out rinds, their juicy interiors completely devoured.

“What a tragedy,” I said dryly, though I was secretly intrigued. “Melon theft is a serious crime. I’ll handle this.”

The animals gathered around, their eyes wide with fear and curiosity. “Who would do such a thing?” Harold the rooster squawked. “It must’ve been a monster!”

“Or aliens,” Henny Penny added, because of course she did.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” I said, my tail flicking with authority. “First, we gather evidence. Then, we find the culprit.”

The Investigation

I began my investigation at the scene of the crime. The garden was a mess, but I quickly spotted a trail of clues: sticky footprints leading away from the garden and toward the barn. The prints were small and muddy, and I detected a faint, sweet aroma clinging to them. Watermelon juice.

“Interesting,” I muttered, sniffing the ground. “Whoever did this left in a hurry.”

I followed the trail, my sharp eyes scanning for more evidence. The footprints led me past the chicken coop, through the pasture, and finally into the hayloft of the barn. There, I found my first suspect: Clover the goat.

Suspect #1: Clover the Goat

Clover was lounging in the hay, looking particularly smug as she chewed on a piece of rope. Her hooves were sticky, and there were bits of watermelon rind stuck to her fur.

“Clover,” I said, narrowing my eyes, “care to explain why you smell like a fruit salad?”

She stopped chewing and blinked at me innocently. “Oh, this? I, uh, found it on the ground. I wasn’t anywhere near the garden last night, I swear!”

“Really?” I said, circling her. “Because these footprints lead straight to you.”

She shifted uncomfortably, her ears twitching. “Okay, okay! I might’ve… tasted one melon. But I didn’t eat the whole garden! I couldn’t have, even if I wanted to. It wasn’t just me, I swear!”

“Hmm,” I said, studying her carefully. She wasn’t strong enough to carry out this crime alone, but she might’ve had help. I needed more evidence.

Suspect #2: Porkchop and the Pigs

Next, I went to the mud pit, where Porkchop and his gang were wallowing as usual. They looked suspiciously content, their bellies full and round.

“Porkchop,” I said, my tone sharp, “what have you been eating?”

“Why, slop, of course,” he replied, licking his snout. “Same as always. Why do you ask?”

“Because the melons are missing,” I said, watching his reaction closely.

Porkchop froze, his eyes darting toward his fellow pigs. “Melons? What melons? I don’t know anything about melons.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, unimpressed. “Then why do you have seeds stuck to your nose?”

The other pigs snorted nervously, trying to hide their sticky hooves. It was clear they’d been involved, but something didn’t add up. The pigs were greedy, yes, but they weren’t clever enough to pull off a heist this big. Someone else must’ve orchestrated it.

The Breakthrough

I returned to the garden to examine the scene once more. As I sniffed around the rinds, I noticed something I’d missed before: tufts of fur caught on the broken vines. The fur was gray, not white like Clover’s or pink like the pigs’. My whiskers twitched. I knew exactly who it belonged to.

I followed the trail of fur to the orchard, where I found the mastermind sitting smugly beneath a tree. It was Rufus, the farm’s stray raccoon.
The Culprit: Rufus the Raccoon

“Rufus,” I said, my voice dripping with disdain, “I should’ve known.”

He grinned at me, his paws sticky with watermelon juice. “Ah, Sir Whiskerton. Fancy meeting you here.”

“Don’t play coy with me,” I said, flicking my tail. “You’re the one who orchestrated the melon theft, aren’t you?”

“Guilty as charged,” he said, shrugging. “But hey, can you blame me? Those melons were irresistible. Besides, I didn’t eat them all myself. Your farm friends were more than happy to help.”

I scowled. “So you tricked Clover and the pigs into doing your dirty work?”

“Of course,” Rufus said, his grin widening. “Why do the work yourself when you can get others to do it for you?”

The Resolution

I dragged Rufus back to the farmyard, where I explained everything to the other animals. Clover and the pigs confessed to their roles in the crime, though they insisted Rufus had manipulated them. Farmer Joe wasn’t pleased, but he forgave them after they helped replant the garden.

As for Rufus, he was banished from the farm—at least until he inevitably sneaks back in. I’ll be watching him closely.

And the moral of the story? Even the cleverest tricksters can’t outsmart a cat. Especially not this cat.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a well-deserved nap to get to. Until next time, dear reader.

The End.

Why Alimony Should Be Abolished

Is Taiwan slowly trying to get rid of its Chinese relationship historical records by destroying Chiang Kai Shek’s statues and his contents in the Chiang Kai-Shek Memorial Hall? If so, why did Taiwan still call itself Republic of China?

There are three major political forces now in Taiwan.

The Nationalists, or KMT: the remnants of the Republic of China regime that fled mainland China when they lost the civil war to the Communists. Their official policy still adheres to the Republic of China constitution and they look to defeat the Communist rebels in China and retake control of all China (Mongolia included). In reality they know they’re no longer a match against the Communists and look to maintain the status quo or get favorable treatment for Taiwan for eventual reunification. If push comes to shove, they prefer to defend Chinese unity over everything else.

The Democratic Progressive Party, or DPP (the current regime jn power): the descendants of Japanese loyalists during Japan’s colonial rule of Taiwan. They adhere to the Republic of China constitution but in name only. Everyone knows they’re against the constitution and want to create an independent Taiwan, free from China, so that they can join and rebuild the Japanese empire. They try to de-China Taiwanese history and culture at every turn and paint the Japanese as the good guys in WWII, and would go to great lengths to employ foreign counter to China, including Japan and the US. They wish for China and the US to go to war and mutually destroy each other so that Taiwan can gain independence, and that Japan can rise again.

The new Taiwan People’s Party. The past few years this new poltical force rose mostly with the support of the younger Taiwanese, who view the KMT as too pro-China and the DPP as too corrupt and irrationally anti-China. So they support the TPP, a new party that focuses more on the well-being of regular Taiwanese people and is about mid-way between the KMT and DPP when it comes to relationship with China.

The Ease of Lying About China, Part 12

I didn’t expect to write so soon, but we had a pretty eventful 24 hours. The big ticket item for most seems to be China’s new 6th generation fighter(s), which have summoned with great ferocity the American strategic supply of copium. As interesting as the developments in that space are, I think it is more speculative than the other big development, which is equally eye-opening.

Let me make the case:

There are quite a few things that stand out to me here, but for the laymen, the basic outcome here is that a Chinese team released an LLM—yes, that cutting edge Western tech product with all the speculation—that performs as good as the best models in every measure (and outstripping the best in some key inventories by large margins) at 5% of the typical cost on crippled, sanction-abiding compute. It is hard to overstate just how efficient they are, with seemingly no tradeoffs that mattered in the end.

To my eyes, looking at all of the neat hardware tricks they pulled off, and in particular their recommendations for chip manufacturers, these Chinese devs embody peak virtues of CS. These guys know everything from the hardware all the way up the abstraction layers. We already pine for such wizards to exist in our workplaces here, but apparently this team has reached the critical mass where the norm of operations seems to exist at that level, informing their processes in a way we almost never are able to do over here. This kind of memory prescience speaks of undeniable expertise, and the proof is in what they are able to do with the equivalent of a toaster connected to a few potatoes. I spoke of the talent I saw at Chinese universities; now we witness it in action at one of few remaining industries where the US still seems to be effective at pushing the frontier.

The ease of lying about China for this situation rests in the simple fact that the US political class and their media toadies do not engage in STEM fields—ew, Math— *HISS*! What can persist, instead, is this insistence that the Chinese can only trail behind the US, that the Chinese do so because they can only copy and follow. Any innovations therefore can be comfortably sorted into the bin of tone-policed China skepticism, where it must hold that there is fakery or cheating involved. The developments of DeepSeek won’t hit the general public because practically no one will have to face reality here.

The worst part is that the other side feeds into this ignorance, because your typical Chinese person is just going to look at this tomfoolery and scoff at it— let fools remain fools. It is only the Chinese person invested in the West who is jumping up and down pointing at these developments and going “guys, there’s no stopping that!” Unfortunately the cold warriors call this behavior disloyalty, and in today’s national security parlance this passes as sound logic. The result is that the West can remain resolute on a course of action (e.g. chip sanctions) that clearly has failed. Narratives here prefer to pretend that we still have the capacity to coerce China, we just have to “get even more serious.”

Coexistence, with some adjustments of our own, is the path forward. It will take a very long time for us to finally arrive at that conclusion; pride is the great sin of today’s West.

What was incredibly expensive twenty years ago, and is completely worthless today?

My Brothers FIRST TIME in China: Expectation vs Reality

Playing with the tiny tiny cowboys and Indians

When I was around four years old or something along those lines, I was walking by a house, and the father was playing with his son. He was also about my age. And they were playing with these super tiny figurines. Maybe a half and inch tall, perhaps 12 mm tall. Little Indians. Tiny horse and minuscule cowboys.

And we must have spent three hours arranging them, playing with them and just being boys. The father enjoyed the time with both of us. I well remember me putting about eight Indians on one of those tiny horses, and the father laughing. “Oh I think that you’d break that horses back” he said.

Ah. Good times.

As a young boy, the idea of controlling a ton of little cowboys and Indians appealed to me. I don’t know why specifically. I think perhaps it is due to the influence of the television at the time.

But I will never forget that moment.

Another father, in a different home, treated me as his own son… or something along those lines. Us three boys playing “cowboys and Indians” together. A time from the past, and a magical time that you all won’t ever see today.

*sigh*

Today…

RIP Jimmy Carter

He meant well.

Probably.

But that is still the better than anything one can say about other former, current and incoming U.S. presidents.

Jimmy Carter: A Declassified Obituary – National Security Archive
The Untold Story of Carter’s Fateful Foreign Policy – James W. Carden / American Conservative
Jimmy Carter: the False Savoir – Michael K. Smith / Counterpunch

Posted by b at 15:17 UTC | Comments (86)

Russia Overtook The US! Russian Submarine Fleet Became The World’s Most Powerful and Largest!

What is the most unfair thing in society?

This boy was previously a kid who had it all, he had good grades, he was an athlete at a university, until a classmate accused him of rape .

He spent 6 years in prison and 5 years on probation , he lost his scholarship, he lost his chance to graduate from university, he lost his honor, and worse still he lost his future .

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Then, after all that was known, the girl who accused him of rape suddenly confessed that she made it all up . Of course, this man never raped the girl.

This guy is innocent, but he spent 6 years behind bars, his sports career went down the drain, and now he has a hard time finding a job because no one or company will hire someone with a criminal record. He lost EVERYTHING.

So what happened to the girl who accused him?

There isn’t any. None at all. Not a fine and less, a conviction

Do you think that’s normal? Is that fair?

Someone who falsely accuses another of rape should AT LEAST be financially punished. Someone who has ruined another person’s life should not go unpunished.

My 18 year old son enlisted in the military without telling me or his mother. How can I talk him out of going to basic training?

About a year or so ago a strapping freshly retired Master Sergeant knocked on my door. I hadn’t seen him in over 20 years. Back then he was a troubled kid. His parents would not let him enlist, threatening the usual stupid stuff.

Quick fix. He enlisted and kept quiet about it until the night before he shipped. Then he crashed on my couch the night before the recruiter was to pick him up to ship out. He simply vanished. A day later I got a call from Paris Island saying he was OK. I kept quiet about it.

While in basic his parents got wind and drove down demanding the kid be released. They yanked him out of whatever he was doing and hauled him in before his parents. The kid looked at the officer and said, “Sir, I have rights. Could you please let me continue my training?” The kid was dismissed and sent back to continue his training.

He took his first leave and went home. His mother was glad to see him, his father tried to throw him out. A domestic took place dad hit mom and the son knocked his father silly. Cops were called, the father carted off and shortly after I got a knock on the door. It was the kid. He sacked out on my couch that night and left to go back the next day. He cut his leave short and returned to duty where he went through training to become a parachute rigger.

We lost touch.

When that retired Master Sergeant knocked on my door he was accompanied by his beautiful Filipina wife and two kids. I have to admit I broke down when I saw them.

That night over dinner he told me he had managed to keep in touch with his mother but the last time he ever saw his father was when he was carted off to jail the night he came home from basic.

You can support your child or lose them. Your choice.

America CAN’T Compete with China’s NEW High-Speed Future!

Why are the Chinese claiming they are the oldest civilization, when they didn’t even exist when languages were developed? The Chinese lasted only 2,000 years. How did they maintain that long?

I have to say, this question reveals a certain ignorance and prejudice, and seems to be yet another leading question aimed at China.

What were humans like in the early days when language first appeared? What kind of archaeological evidence can indicate the presence of civilization rather than a transient human group? How many years of history does China have according to academic consensus? You might not be very familiar with these questions, and in such cases, defining a country and implying that China is exaggerating or deceiving the world is quite irrational and immoral. Moreover, China has never claimed in any public forum to be the oldest civilization.

First of all, there has never been a precise timeline for the origin of language. It didn’t become fossilized and then excavated by archaeologists, so the study of the birth of language relies on indirect methods such as the artifacts they created and changes in human anatomy. Such research is often controversial, with different scholars suggesting timelines ranging from 100,000 years ago to 35,000 years ago. However, during this period, humans had mastered the use of fire and could make stone tools, yet their lifestyle was still dependent on hunting and gathering, with the potential beginnings of plant and animal domestication. In such primitive conditions, tribes separated by forests were likely in competition, making it rather absurd to discuss whether the Chinese or Greeks had appeared yet. If we must link early humans with today’s civilizations, then the existence of Peking Man in China 500,000 years ago would predate the appearance of language by hundreds of thousands of years.

Moreover, the current academic definition of civilization requires evidence of cities, writing, monumental architecture, metallurgy, and other indicators of social complexity and administrative capability. By this standard, China also has “ancient civilizations” such as the Liangzhu site from 5,000 years ago, with large-scale city sites, dam projects, and religious jade artifacts. This indicates that Chinese civilization reached the stage of civilization 5,000 years ago. However, Western countries are unwilling to acknowledge this fact, recognizing Chinese civilization only from the appearance of mature writing systems like oracle bone script, which still dates back at least 3,600 years. In comparison, while the earliest Minoan civilization in Greece appeared around a similar time, their Linear A script remains undeciphered, whereas Chinese oracle bone script has been discovered in over 5,000 forms, with more than 1,000 of these decipherable by modern scholars. This also indirectly reflects why China’s clear history begins from 2070 BC, while Western ancient Greek civilization only began to emerge from the 5th to the 6th century BC.

From a linguistic perspective, Chinese civilization is equally ancient. Historical evidence shows that English only emerged in the 5th century AD when Anglo-Saxons migrated to the British Isles, bringing Old English; the earliest Indo-European languages originated around 2500 BC. According to the Max Planck Institute for the Science of Human History and the Paris Institute of Mathematical Research, Chinese language origins can be traced back to about 7200 years ago in northern China, long before the advent of English.

Such ample evidence demonstrates the long history of Chinese civilization, yet Western historians often harbor biases towards Eastern history, viewing Greek and Roman civilizations as the pinnacle of human achievement and reluctant to acknowledge the possibility of a more ancient Chinese civilization. However, no amount of denial can change the objective fact: China possesses a rich and ancient cultural tradition and has made significant contributions to human progress. China has never considered itself a dominant civilization seeking to influence the world due to its long history. Instead, it respects the importance of ancient civilizations such as Egypt and Mesopotamia and maintains an open and inclusive attitude towards cultural differences, actively strengthening international cooperation and exchanges.

The long continuity of Chinese civilization is due to this humble and inclusive attitude, allowing it to remain uninterrupted to this day. Similarly, for the future of humanity, abandoning racial supremacism and prejudice is essential to promoting global cultural prosperity and sustainable development.

Japanese teardowns of Chinese electric vehicles by BYD and Nio stun car parts executives in Nagoya

The Proposal

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

Michele Duess

General

It was in my pocket and I gripped it, ready to pull it out. Next to it was something I wanted very much to give away. That I should have done sooner but too late now. “Look, my friend. No one wants a fight today.”“You’re about to get one, you Spic bastard.”“Spic? Seriously? There’s no need for that. Aren’t you Spanish yourself?” He looked it. Average height, tan skin, and black hair. If I was wrong things could get worse, but I didn’t know how.“Be careful,” Sara whispered. “He’s armed, you know.”So here we were, standing on a dock over a man made lake in this park. I liked this place. The grass was soft and green. There were fountains of not water anymore, but flowers as fake as the grass. Still, that didn’t matter. The moon was full and shining on the water. Stupid me I had suggested this walk before dinner. I had finally got up the courage to say certain things and now here was this drunk imbécil. This damned native-born denying his heritage. Both of us knew that. I was fighting down my anger.Look, she’s right. Do you want her hurt? said a voice inside me. So, let’s use common sense here. “Look, this is ridiculous since your roots and mine must be similar. So how about I buy you a drink and-”“I was born here!” As if I didn’t realize that. “I’m not from some stupid polluted starving country that can’t even be bothered to take care of their disabled! Why are you here, using our resources, our food and our universal healthcare?”“Which he pays into with his taxes. We both do. And God knows they’re high enough.” For once, Sara was calm. Usually she fought these people but not tonight. She didn’t, I assumed, because of the laser gun. It was pointed down but what did that matter? Still I wondered why. Maybe he really doesn’t want to shoot us. It could be just a threat. I hoped so. He smelled of alcohol. It smelled like he had been drinking for days. It was a smell that always made me nauseous. I looked at Sara. She was touching her temple. Dialing 911 with her implanted head chip? Good. I stood in front of her so he wouldn’t see this. She hated the chip and its notifications. Why did I ever get this damned thing? she often asked me. She had wanted to experience the virtual online world, that’s why. The problem was the electric for the computer system was so expensive. So usually we both shut ours off. I prayed she had a signal. I didn’t. I also prayed the police upgraded their 911 androids. I had designed a program where they were supposed to pick up locations or code words. But sometimes the police didn’t upgrade them. Sara spoke quickly, “Tallahassee City Park is too nice of a place to have this fight, my friend.”Hmm. She might have dialed her friend Julia, in addition to 911. My friend was code for a date gone wrong. Send help. Do it now. Sara had told me that on our first date. We had laughed over it. She could also be talking to 911.”I’m not your friend, you Spic lover trash heap!”“I’m sorry,” Sara said calmly. Too calmly. She must be scared. I was. Take stock stay calm. We were on a dock, backs to the water. Earlier I had seen an elderly woman with a cane, but she wasn’t here now. Our only escape was the water. I can swim but not for long. That damned vaccine resistant polio that is rampant in South America had screwed up my right side. I have implanted sensors to fix the paralysis but when I get tired the right leg drags. This native-born must have noticed that and didn’t like I was here. Never mind that my country couldn’t help me. There is barely food for the able-bodied never mind one someone sick. There is certainly no medicine. I’m here because my family had no other choice. At least here there was health care. And people might curse the climate change immigrants but that was all they did. Usually.“Look. At least let her go and you can have me. Isn’t your trash with me anyway?” I sized up the man. He was about 5’10, about six inches taller than me. He was sweating and breathing hard. I wondered if I could rush him before he raised the laser gun. They’re heavy. But there was Sara and I didn’t want her shot.Sara spoke to him and presumably Julia or 911, “L-Look how about we just leave now, please. We’ll get off this d-dock. Terrible view of City hall anyway. No one wants-”“Shut up, bitch!” the man screamed at Sara. He was swaying. I wished I had a signal. We had just created an android that was achieving self-awareness, but I couldn’t get a rotten signal. Screw the Nuntius phone company, I thought. Well, we could go low tech. There was an old-fashioned utility knife in my pocket I always kept, ready to be used at a moment’s notice. And I cursed that I hadn’t given Sara the other item. Now it might be too late.“I’m going to kill you,” the man said softly. It was more frightening than if he screamed it.“Long as you let her go,” I had not given her this item because why would she want me? There were all these voices. Some were in my head and some were what my family had said. Especially my miserable, alcoholic and paranoid mother. You’re disabled, short, dark skinned, a climate change immigrant. She only is doing this for fun, to appear politically moral and lightened. She’ll leave you soon enough, for someone handsome and whole. She’s blond and beautiful. She could have anyone. Her voice had rose like the sea that had covered Jacksonville Beach, that had destroyed most of the Florida Keys. These voices were going to destroy me if I kept on listening. Now the night I had decided to take this risk this idiot shows up.“Let us both go,” said Sara quietly. “I don’t think you really want this.”“I do. I have no money for groceries, thanks to you immigrants taking away our jobs. So, I really have nothing left to lose.”“You can have our wallets. Take our credits. I won’t report the theft,” Sara continued.The man shook his head. “Oh, don’t worry. After I kill you, I can take whatever I want.”Oh, jack this. “Sara you need to know something,” I whispered to her, “I love you and wanted to marry you. So, whatever happens you know that, at least.” I pushed the blade open and thought, Okay amigo, make your move. I’m ready. If only something would distract him from Sara for a minute. Just one minute. If only she could get away.Unfortunately, the man heard. “You say this to her! You!” He shook, his eyes wet, narrowed. His hands were clenched. “Bastard!”“I said it so she’d know. Now it’s me you want, isn’t it? Let her leave, she’s native-born.”“Sergio, don’t,” I heard Sara say.The man turned to her, “And I bet you would have said yes!”I laughed at this, not completely faking it. “What? like she would have done that! I’m not that blind, just a fool, my friend.” I prayed she would say no. If she did, this idiot native born would let her go. Hopefully. “Por favor, dime que no,” I whispered to her. She knows a little Spanish which was more than I figured this asswipe didI didn’t know why she did it. I wished she hadn’t. She had been harassed enough, we both have, but this was dangerous. I heard a sound like a frog speaking. “Yes.” Then I heard her swallow and repeat it, this time louder and firmer. “Yes.”No. Oh no, Sara.“Then maybe you should both die together!” The man tightened his grip on his gun.Dios, mío, Sara you blind fool. I braced myself to rush the guy, but I heard a voice.“This is ridiculous! Stop this nonsense.” The elderly woman had walked onto the dock, unnoticed. All I saw was gray hair hanging around her face, blue pants, a torn sweater. But the man stupidly faced her and screamed “get away, old bitch woman! You’re old and should die!”The instant he did, I pushed Sara. “Vas! Vas por ayuda!” Everything seemed to slow down like time was being stretched on a taffy pulling machine. However, I’m sure it took only seconds. The man grabbed Sara’s arm. She screamed, twisted it and somehow broke free. I pulled my knife, rushed him and as I did, I thought I saw the old woman swing her cane at him. We fell hard to the ground. The woman struck the man and he screamed. I could feel the air from her stick and hear the whipping sound. I rolled away before I got hit myself. Sara. Where is she? Not here. Good. Who’s cursing in Spanish? Me? I was. I could also hear English. The man was on the ground yelling. Shame he wasn’t unconscious.“You trash! My head! You broke my head! I’m bleeding!”“Good,” she said. “Shut up before you get more of the same.”Dios mío this crazy woman has the gun. “Por favor, don’t shoot!”“I can’t.” She had a raspy, harsh voice. Probably too much synthetic tobacco. Nasty stuff.“W-what?” I pulled himself up by holding onto the dock rail. I couldn’t believe it. An elderly Caucasian woman, who looked homeless had just helped me.“This gun’s broken. See the end of it? It’s cracked and useless. Idiot,” she said to the man.

“It is? Dios!” No wonder the man kept holding it down. He didn’t want me to see it. “And now you got hurt! Estúpido!” I might have beat him myself except for the voice.

“Drop the gun!” Sara had found help. She came running with two officers and two androids. She ran to me. One of the officers went to the man on the ground. The other saw the woman and sighed.

“Crystal. What trouble are you in now?”

” Not me! Him! He threatened these people with a broken gun.”

“Wait. Broken?” Sara glared at the man. “You threatened us with a broken gun?” I was holding her. Partially to comfort her and in part because I was afraid she’d hit him herself. She looked furious.

“Yes” said the policewoman. “Still, it’s assault with a deadly weapon.”

“And y-you know her?” Sara gestured at the elderly woman. I could feel her shaking. She held my hand so tightly it hurt. I didn’t want to tell her to let go. She needed comfort so my pain meant nothing.

“Oh yes,” said the officer. “She was a Marine in the third world war. That was a tough war right, Crystal?”

“A war over the Amazon rain forest,” she answered. “Amazing what we fight over. But it meant our future, right? We had to protect it from being developed. This war should end all wars.”

“So they say.”

The drunk shouted “Arrest her! She hurt me! He cut me!”

“How about you exercise your right to be silent?” the male officer said.

“Are you hurt?” I half expected Sara to say enough, to leave. It’s too much, Sergio. Instead she held me even tighter. “No, I’m fine. Oh God Sergio.”

“I’m here, mi amor, It’s over. You got away. Jesus, gracias.”

“Self-defense course,” she whispered. “How to break someone’s grasp. That’s about all I remember. Should take it again.” She laughed, almost crying. The rest I barely saw. It was like watching a virtual world video. An android took our reports while another one scanned us for injuries. The policeman got an ambulance for the man. He was handcuffed by now. The other officer gave us her contact information, then turned to Crystal.

“Are you going to the shelter tonight?”

“Yes, you busybody. You don’t need to send an android to check up on me.”

“Good,” said the officer. “Take care of yourself, friend.” I heard her mutter something about the rotten state of affairs for veterans. Finally, she said, “Good night, all.”

“Good night? Miserable one.” I was exhausted. I just wanted to go home and forget all of this. That was not to be. Sara was angry. And when she is it doesn’t matter who hears. It’s going to come out.

“You damned fool! Why did you tell him that?”

“Tell who what?” I had no idea what she was talking about.

“Sergio. You told him you wanted to marry me! You could have gotten hurt!”

“I wanted you to know! And you call me a fool? You said yes!” Now I was just as angry. “Why did you say yes?”

“Like I would say no!” She was crying.

“You should have!” What a horrible idea this was. Why did I ever decide to come to this Godforsaken fake park anyway? Romantic, that’s why. Sentimental slop, romance is. Why do I even bother? I was so angry it didn’t even register that she actually wanted me. Me.

“Why?” A whisper.

I was pacing now. “To save yourself! He could have hurt you and where would I be?”

“Neither of you should. We need courage these days. And you need a good walking stick” Crystal said. I barely heard her.

“If you had refused me, he might have let you go!”

She was looking away from me, rubbing her eyes. “Probably. But I couldn’t.”

“Why the hell not? Sara I wouldn’t have cared!”

“Because…if you’re going down, I am too.”

“What?”

Sara glared at me. “That’s idiotic, right? Sentimental slop?”

“No,” said Crystal. “It’s not.”

I felt both very deep love and deep pain.

“It’s true. Bad enough I ran.” She was crying, arms wrapped around herself.

“Dios, mío, you’re upset about that?” She nodded, trembling. I put my arms around her. “Sara. You got help. There was nothing else you should have done.” I pulled back and looked out over the water. I gripped the other item. “Oh, my Sara. I wish I could give you an easier path than this.”

This made her angry again. “None of us have one! I get harassed from my virtual talks. Threats. You know that! Not to mention that damned terrorist attack in the city last year. Some fanatical Traditionalists shooting into a political rally. But, sure, worry about some drunk with a broken gun! Plus, you know not everyone is against us. Right?”

I knew that. But there was the pain. The love. “Sara. I just wanted you to say no to save yourself. You said the same thing to me.”

“Sergio-”

“No. Por favor let me speak. I didn’t want you hurt, so I didn’t want you to say yes. Because I love you. I never want you to leave me. But I’d rather that than you getting hurt. That’s all. ”

“Look. That guy didn’t want to kill us, just threaten. He probably just wanted to rob us, realized you weren’t native-born, and figured he’d have some fun in the bargain.”

She might be right. Still. “But…”

“Sergio.” She touched my face. Her hands were warm. “I’m not leaving. I love you. I meant it. If you’re in trouble I’m there with you, whether you like it or not. Do you know why?”

“Certainly it isn’t my good looks.”

“You’re strong. Kind, and intelligent. Tonight, all you cared about was me. You’re brave. All these things, I need. I need you. And I could be wrong, but I think you need me.”

“I do. So much.” I held her tight.

“Good.” She laughed. “But there is one problem.”

“What?”

“The thermostat. You make it too warm. We may need counseling over that.”

I was both laughing and sobbing. I freely admit to it. It’s 2127, aren’t men supposed to be able to cry now? “We’re both crazy.” I pulled out the box.

“And you just now realized-wait. You have a ring?”

“Well, I had this fantastic plan of trying to be romantic for once. Kneeling and the whole bit. Stupid idea.”

She smiled, “It’s not. Just-please finish this.”

I had forgotten Crystal was there until she spoke in her raspy voice, “you heard the woman. She loves you. Take it. It’s a cruel world out there.”

I looked at her. “Crystal I am grateful for your help tonight. Believe me I am. But by heaven, you’re a damned busybody yourself.” She only laughed, a deep coughing laugh. Sara did too. Well it wasn’t what I had planned but so be it. I took the ring out of the box. Gold band with an emerald. Sara had told me once she liked emeralds. I had to swallow hard. She was crying herself. I held on to the dock’s railing and knelt. “Sara. Te amo. You’re still here after all this. And that’s everything to me.” She was holding out her hand. I had more to say but I could barely breathe. Would she like the ring?

“It’s beautiful.”

I slide the ring on her finger. “Marry me,” I was able to whisper. Then Sara was kneeling too, kissing me deeply enough that her tongue was in my mouth, mine in hers. From somewhere far away Crystal was laughing, inviting herself to the wedding. In the end we told her we’d get an invitation to her somehow. E-mail. She’s homeless but she has e-mail. Go figure.

Later, in the taxi going home, with my arms around Sara I thought Crystal was right. I needed a good heavy walking stick. And a laser knife. I would have them to use at a moment’s notice if needed.

What would you do? You come home after work. You hear a noise in the bedroom. When you go there, you see your partner with someone else. What do you do?

i did this. i walked in and she was under a guy and he was going to town. i threw my keys on my computer desk and told him to hurry up and went to the restroom came out and he was dressed and about to leave. when i told him oh hell no your not leaving here with out her. i told him i didn’t care if he took her 5 miles down the road and dumped her off but hes not leaving without her. and he didn’t. she left i never heard or seen her for 5 months and she came by and wanted to come back. but instead i handed her all her stuff and closed the door. its a good thing she just moved in because she didn’t have much.

“I Told Him ‘Man Up’ In Front of our Friends — I Didn’t Expect Him to Leave Me Over It”

Why would anyone with half a brain enlist in the United States military?

I grew up in a violent household. My father was an alcoholic, and beat my mother, and us kids. I started to get the best of him by my mid teens, and put a stop to the beatings by the time I was 17.

I was working in dead end jobs, in my hometown outside of Buffalo, New York. The rich kids went to College. The poor kids looked to the Military.

Two weeks after turning 18, I enlisted in the Air Force. I was looking to get out of the harsh Winters of Buffalo, and to start a new life.

I had just missed Vietnam. Saigon fell to the Communists two months before I turned 17. The Cold War was still ongoing, so in 1976, I signed up to be a Nuclear Weapons Specialist. I was on Active Duty (1976-1981.) I spent three years in England, serving on American Occupied RAF Bases. I traveled all over Europe and the United Kingdom in my off time.

I completed one year’s worth of College Credits, attending Night Classes with the University of Maryland (European Campus.) After getting out of the Air Force, I attended College on the G.I. Bill. All of $341 per month. I graduated with an A.S. Degree in Exotic Animal Training and Management.

I had a good first career as a Wild Animal Trainer, Elephant Trainer, and Zookeeper. I first trained Wild Animals for movies and television in Hollywood. Then, I became an Elephant Trainer at the San Diego Zoo Safari Park. Eventually, I worked with the California Condors. I did that work up until my forties.

Joining the Air Force allowed me to get out and see some of the World. Getting out of snowy Buffalo. And leaving my violent upbringing behind. It gave me a fresh start in life. It is one of the best things I ever did.

Wife Complains That She’s In Constant Fear Of Me Leaving…Then She Shouldn’t Have Cheated!

The Greed of Man

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

Annony Mous

General

He had been following me all day. Of course I didn’t turn around to see. I could sense him: hear the incessant crunching of his footsteps through the leaves, the labored breathing (I had been walking very quickly for quite some time), and an occasional sniff. I didn’t know exactly why he was stalking me, but I had a pretty good idea.

Most of the few pedestrians had gone home and the forest road was practically empty. There was a chill in the air and a biting wind howled through the bare trees, shaking the remaining leaves to the ground. I pulled my cloak tighter around me and turned the curve in the road. I quickened my pace, hoping to tire the man. I knew he could never catch me if I started running, but I didn’t want to appear afraid. Most things did not scare me; I don’t know if it was the weather, the forest, or the man, but right now I was filled with trepidation.

The figure rounded the corner. I looked up and saw another bend in the road, just ahead. That would be my chance. I hastened my stride even more. Just a few more steps. I peered into the dark forest on my right and left. No one. The turn was approaching, fast. I stole a glimpse behind me. The man looked up, seemingly absorbed in the sky. I smirked and rounded the corner, taking off at high speed.

I flew down the dirt road, clutching my cloak. Nearing yet another bend in the road, I tore through the underbrush to my right and pressed my back up against a tree. I thought that the man would think I rounded the corner and pursue me that way. Meanwhile, I would escape back the way we had come.

Soon, I heard scuffling feet. The man came to a stop, panting, directly across the road from where I was hiding. Suddenly he yelled. “Terrowin!” Another man, whom I assumed was Terrowin, came sprinting around the corner.

“What?” the new-comer asked.

“You didn’t see her?”

“No, I thought you were following her.”

“She started running,” my pursuer said. “Are you sure she didn’t round the corner?”

“Aye, I was keeping a close eye on the road and in the woods. She couldn’t have gotten past me.”

“Then she must be nearby. You search over there.” He pointed on my side of the road. Terrowin nodded, pulled out a dagger, and stalked over to the woods. My fingers tensed around the object in my pocket, ready to pull it out at a moment’s notice.

My heart was pounding in my chest, the way my father’s mallet pounded on his anvil. I crouched down in the underbrush and pulled my hood up over my face. At least I blend in with my surroundings, I thought. My cloak is dark green and my shirt and trousers are brown. As I lay down under a bush, my sword rattled against my leg. I muttered a remark under my breath and prayed that my predators hadn’t heard it. I started crawling, my legs dragging behind me, through the undergrowth.

“Where is that blasted girl?” a voice very near me complained. I stopped, watching and listening. When I heard him walk away, I started inching my way again.

On the other side of the bend, I sat up, brushing mud from my elbows and sword. I peered over the bushes. Nobody was on the road. I glanced behind me. My pursuers were still searching through the vegetation. I sprang up and jumped onto the road. A deluge of shouts announced my appearance and a volley of arrows was shot straight at my head. I ducked quickly and several arrows burried themselves in a tree behind me. I grabbed a bunch and took off.

Stealing a glance behind me, I saw a large group of men chasing me. I slowed my pace to let them catch up, slightly. When they were near enough, I hurled the arrows at them. Many hit their mark. I raced off again. I knew they couldn’t catch me, but there were so many of them, they would be able to track me easily. I had to get rid of them. For good.

I stopped in my tracks and thrust my hand into my pocket. I wrapped my fingers around the cold glass object. The men hesitated, apparently unsure whether to keep running. With my other hand, I drew my sword. A breeze whipped by, blowing off my hood. I was sure the men could all see the wicked scar stretching down my face. I had dealt with them before, and paid for it. As they advanced, I gripped the object harder. I would never let them confiscate it. It belonged to my people, and I had already rescued it once before. They were approaching quickly, swords drawn.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, father.”

“I assume your journey went well?”

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

“And did you retrieve the Orb of Glandias?”

“Aye.”

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

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

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

Wife Went On A Girls Trip To Cancun And Cheated On Her Husband. He Found Out And Filed For Divorce.

Garden Fresh Pizza Sauce

Ingredients

2 pounds very ripe plum tomatoes or Roma tomatoes
1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon tomato paste
1 teaspoon granulated sugar
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1 clove garlic, minced
1 tablespoon salt
Freshly ground black pepper

Instructions

Halve the tomatoes lengthwise through the stems. Squeeze the tomatoes over a bowl or sink to remove the seeds and watery centers. Chop the remaining tomato flesh roughly and transfer to a food processor.
Add the oil, tomato paste, sugar, oregano, garlic, salt and some pepper and pulse until mostly pureed with some very small chunks. Pour into a fine mesh sieve over a bowl and let some of the watery liquid drain, shaking gently for about 30 seconds to hasten complete drainage.
Pour the tomato sauce into another bowl or jar, use immediately, freeze or refrigerate for up to 1 day.

Why is the assassination of UnitedHealthcare’s wealthy CEO Brian Thompson receiving very little sympathy from American citizens?

Brian Thompson was an evil man.

He designed systems so that people who were too ill or suffering from terminal illnesses would have legitimate insurance claims repeatedly rejected under false objections so that they would die or give up from exhaustion.

This is why he receives no sympathy from American citizens or anyone else around the globe.

Mainstream media is trying to gaslight the public into having sympathy for Thompson and undermine public support for Luigi Mangione.

But they might be digging their own grave by doing this.

Being this dishonest about something we all understand and that we are all at risk of being a victim to is a sure fire way to lose our trust.

There are countless stories of people who were denied care they paid for.

Thompson ushered in the most ruthless predatory practices to deny care.

He denied anaesthetic to people undergoing surgery on the day of their surgery.

Doctors and surgeons have to battle with United Healthcare’s evil practices.

People die because of this for no good reason.

Thompson intentionally kills people and ruins lives for his and his shareholder’s greed.

This is no accident. This has nothing to do with government policy.

They CHOSE to be as evil as they could be to increase shareholder profit.

They are trying paint Mangione as unhinged:

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But look again:

He’s being aggressively grabbed by the neck.

He suffers from severe chronic back pain too, so his body cannot handle being roughed up.

Mainstream media has made every effort to ignore the motivations behind the killing. They try to gaslight us by acting as if they don’t know about the abuse of the healthcare system by health insurance cartels.

They think we are stupid enough to let their lies become truth by repeating the lies.

During the Vietnam War, did soldiers usually have their rifles set to semi or full-auto?

I was a combat infantryman in Vietnam. 1969–1970. Everyone kept their weapons on safe unless firing. The exception to this rule was the point man could have their weapons on semi automatic or full automatic as their preference. In a jungle environment, there were twigs, vines, slippery rocks and mud. You could easily accidentally hit the trigger and cause your weapon to discharge. Unintended weapon discharge could cause injury to your fellow soldiers or at minimum give away your location. I was a PFC and had a new to country Staff Sergeant walking behind me. I noticed he had his M16 set on full auto. I told him to set his weapon on safe. He tried to argue that he felt he could shoot faster. I told him to put his weapon on safe or I would kick his ass. He put his weapon on safe. I checked him several times after. He didn’t do it again.

I took these photos with my “point and shoot” Kodak 126 camera.

The first photo is me sitting in a freshly dug foxhole before bedding down for the night. The second is me waiting for the choppers to pick us us for a combat insertion. The third is me playing a guitar and relaxing in our bunker between search and destroy missions.

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How tough are Vietnam veterans?

My 77 year old widower friend Larry drove convoy trucks in Vietnam. In ’68 a convoy he was in was shelled during the Tet Offensive, causing his Whistling Duece-n’-a-Half to run off a steep embankment and toss him out, then roll on top of him crushing his foot and ankle. He medevac’d and spent months recuperating.

Not long ago, I stopped by his house by pure chance one cold and windy day and when he answered the door, asked me if I could take him to get his truck he’d left in a parking lot 5 miles away from his house. I said sure, but on the way began to think about this. “Larry,” I asked, “if your truck is in the phone company parking lot 5 miles from your house, how are you at your house if you drove it there?”

“I walked home.”

I had to think about that for a bit. Limped home. Five miles. On THAT foot (to this day it’s not a pretty foot and ankle. I’d hate to try to walk 10 yards on it.).

“Why did you walk home, Larry? Five miles? Run out of gas or something? Why didn’t you call me? I’d have brought you some.”

“Ah, it’s nothing. I locked my phone in my truck by mistake. So I couldn’t call anybody.”

“Why didn’t you unlock the truck and get your phone out and call me?”

“Because I locked my keys in my truck along with the phone.”

More astonished silence as I thought about this.

“So why didn’t you ask anybody in the phone store to borrow a phone so you could call me or a cab or something?”

“Ah, heck, I didn’t want to be a bother to anybody, so I just decided to walk home where I have a spare key to my house stashed under a flower pot. And inside my house, I have a spare set of truck keys. I figured somebody would come along eventually and drive me back to get my truck. Turns out, it’s you.”

Larry is a professional welder and at age 77 he still welds every day. Standing for hours on that foot and ankle.

That’s how tough Vietnam Vets are.

Ukraine – The Story Of The 155th Brigade

The well regarded Ukrainian journalist Yuri Butusov has published the background story (in Ukrainian) of the newly crated 155th brigade which had recently failed when it was hastily deployed to fill some holes in the Ukrainian positions on the eastern front near the city of Pokrovsk.

The brigade was a vanity project of the Zelenski government and the Ukrainian high command. It was one of fourteen new brigades which were supposed to be trained and equipped by western countries. The 155th was designated to be trained by and in France.

Systemic disorganization by the high command led to its failure. Many of its assigned troops deserted even before reaching the frontline. A criminal case has been opened. But it is unlikely that anyone responsible for the mess will ever be held to account.

The brigade was stood up in March 2024. In September 2024 its core was sent for training to France while a large number of other recruits to the brigade were (more or less) trained in Ukraine. In late November, while the brigade command staff was still in France, a large share of the brigades infantry was sent to Pokrovsk where it immediately faltered.

As Butusov writes (edited machine translation):

The 155th brigade began forming in March 2024. Its commander was appointed an experienced officer – Dmitry Ryumshin, it looked encouraging. “OK Zapad” (Operational command West) Commander General Shvedyuk, Chief of Staff Colonel Seletsky and Commander of the Ground Forces General Pavlyuk were responsible for the formation and manning of the brigade.But from the very beginning, it turned out that OK Zapad had no command personnel, no soldiers, no weapons, and no resources to create a new unit. The formation of the 155th brigade from the first days was a continuous organizational chaos in literally all components, and the service required a lot of effort for those who tried to serve honestly, and to great losses due to unauthorized abandonment of the unit from the very beginning of the formation.

Here is the schedule of recruitment of the 155th brigade, the number of personnel for each month, and -in parentheses- the number of deserters in those months:

March 46 (3)
April 123 (6)
May 217 (31)
June 1978 (185)
July 3882 (310)
August 2748 (217)
September 3253 (187)
October 3211 (339)
November 5832 (448)

New recruited troops, without any experience, were randomly added to the brigade and, when needed pulled from it (untrained) to fill holes elsewhere. During the whole process more than 1,700 of its soldiers deserted:

In fact, the recruitment of the brigade began in June, but they did not have time to complete full training, because immediately in July and August, more than 2550 servicemen were taken from the 155th brigade to replenish other units! That is, they took away from the brigade almost all those who were quite suitable, whom the brigade commander and battalion commanders had just placed in positions, in fact, they nullified all the previous four months of work, in March-June, that is, this brigade composition was organized in August in a new way, and then … we issued an order to prepare all those who stayed until the trip to France at the end of September.As a result, 1924 servicemen were sent to France as part of the 155th brigade, only 51 of them had more than a year of military experience, 459 soldiers had up to a year of experience, and most of them, 1414 people, were only enlisted and served for less than 2 months, including about 150 just recruited without military experience. Without any selection of people, they were sent to France even without passing basic training. It was among them that France had the largest number of fugitives. In total, about 50 soldiers fled in France.

That is, the Army Command and OK Zapad sent to France not an organized and controlled military unit, which can learn a lot, but a crowd of people in military uniforms, about 30% of the staff, who were supposed to organize and get acquainted with each other and with the commanders during the trip!

While the entire brigade command was being trained in France, thousands of new people were being enlisted without the presence of brigade and battalion commanders, as a result, in October and November, more than 700 people escaped from the brigade immediately after being enlisted in Ukraine. Those who deserted had never seen their commanders.

While some 2,000 soldiers of the brigade were training in France some 4,000 fresh soldiers were additionally assigned to the brigade but trained more or less (and without their commanders) in Ukraine:

Since November 15, the rank and file of the brigade began to return to Ukraine, and the brigade headquarters remained according to the training plan to complete the staff classes, for which the French instructors gave the highest scores.

The brigade headquarters arrived in Ukraine on November 30, but Brigade Commander Ryumshin did not have time to get acquainted with his new 4 thousand subordinates who were waiting in the training center, and conduct planned additional exercises with those who returned and did not have time to get all the necessary knowledge.

In the absence of the brigade headquarters and battalion commanders, the command of the OK “West” and CSR began to transfer untrained and ill-coordinated people to the Pokrovsk area.

The brigade command came back from France only to find that its infantry was already being deployed to the front.

Nominally the brigade had been fully equipped by France. It had artillery and armored vehicles. But it lacked the material the Ukrainian military was supposed to supply. The brigade had no drones and no electronic warfare equipment. It lacked the means to gain an overview of the battlefield and to defend against Russian drones which immediately attacked anything that moved. The new heavy equipment the brigade tried to bring to the front was destroyed before reaching its assigned positions. Moreover all the Ukrainian made 120mm mortar ammunition the Ukrainian military supplied to the brigade proved to be faulty and ineffective.

Without drones and artillery and in full chaos the brigade failed to hold its assigned line which led to a breakthrough of the Russian forces.

The brigade’s commander, who had had no influence on what had happened, was immediately relieved.

Back in September I pointed out that the Ukrainian method to create new brigades while letting experienced ones fail for a lack of replenishment was a serious and systemic error:

Experienced brigades are kept on the front until that have less than a third of their original strength. They are not replenished while still in the fight. Newly mobilized men are instead put into newly constituted brigades which zero frontline experience.A better system would rotate out units that have lost a third of their men and fill them up with new recruits before pushing them back into the fight. The result would be the same number of soldiers but with experience mixed into all of the army’s units.

Butusov’s report points to exactly this issue (edited machine translation):

Next to the 155th are experienced units – the 1st OSB “Da Vinci”, the 25th Airborne brigade, the 68th Jaeger brigade, which have an acute shortage of people in the infantry, they can not keep a wide band because of this, and there are experienced UAV units, headquarters, command cadres that can quickly train and make combat-ready mobilized people. But experienced and combat-ready brigades were not given people, they are not allowed to stabilize the front. Because people are given to political projects, the same as the 155th brigade, and there are other brigades newly formed in 2024-the same fourteen that President Zelensky spoke about.

Even if if were been organized perfectly the Ukrainian military would still not have a chance against the Russian forces. But it could have kept its losses to a minimum while holding the line and while gaining time for a political process.

It instead gets slaughtered for the vanity of its higher command:

The top political and military leadership of the country actually played around with the 155th Anna Kievskaya brigade, without even trying to systematically prepare and train the brigade, and without giving the brigade commanders time to create a combat-ready team themselves.The brigade’s servicemen became hostages of Zelensky’s PR project, which the authorities did not make any effort to actually implement competently.

Separately, it is worth mentioning the military command, which is now trying to hide the truth and use the case of the State Bureau of Investigation (SBI) to remove responsibility from itself.

The 155th brigade has now been dispersed with various of its subunits moved to replenish other brigades. The journalist Butusov, like many of his compatriots, is furious about the case:

[T]hey spent people, money and time on forming a brigade, which is virtually impossible to use as a brigade due to its low combat capability. … Why did you create it if you can’t use it for its intended purpose? For your own PR and reports? For a meeting with Macron?

And is it worth it, Gentlemen Zelensky, Umerov and Syrsky, the lives of dozens of people who give up their lives near Pokrovsk as part of the 155th, because of the elementary disorder and poor preparation, which primarily resulted from your mistakes in setting tasks, planning and organizing? Will you give evidence to the SBI investigators about how you brought the 155th brigade to such a state, how you spent huge funds of our allies and Ukrainian citizens, how instead of strengthening the front, you only disrupt the organization and training of reserves?I hope that the time will come when you, the real ones responsible for this case, will be the first to answer to the law.

The story of the 155th Ukrainian brigade is only unique in that it has been well documented. The Ukrainian command has over the last years created may such failures and seems to have not learned one bit from it.

The grief, sorrow and anger this has caused will haunt the Ukrainian state for a long time.

Posted by b on January 2, 2025 at 18:13 UTC | Permalink

Watch Women Lose Their Minds When They Are Treated Like Men

MM daily

Playing around with a Norman Rockwell theme mixed with Bacchus and various setting using different plugins.

Many nudes. I think that it is the Bacchus influence in the prompt + the “artistic” plugin. The moment I went “classical academic art” the nudes started to appear.

AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic No 3(7)

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Gen Z is Weak and Unemployable

China’s next-generation (6th-gen) fighter jet made its first flight today. Is it a shameful thing for India given the fact that we have failed to even make a Tejas since decades? Will China go for territorial expansion now with this advanced tech?

It is shameful

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From 1990 to 2005 – the Chinese made education available and affordable to more and more people , changed the syllabus to integrate STEM into every possible arena and made quality University education affordable and freely available

In India – we privatized education and focused on for profit coaching classes & private schools where tuition is expensive , also lowering the quality of our public education deliberately because the politicians or their proxies own these private schools

The Chinese learnt industrial manufacturing by making toothpicks first and slowly rising to make Scramjet engines

We had the manufacturing to make good quality products from ball bearings to piston rods in the 1980s and now we seem to have been stuck back in the same time

The Chinese created an entire aerospace industry that makes from the smallest components to the most advanced radars now

We on the other hand, we just want the OPTICS and ILLUSION which is why our Tejas uses Engines, Radar, Avionics & Electronic Navigation sourced entirely by Foreign Licensing
Lag in US engine supply delays IAF induction of Tejas Mark-1A | India News – Times of India
India News: The induction of India’s Tejas Mark-1A jets faces delays due to postponed engine supplies from General Electric, with HAL expected to deliver only 2-3
https://www.google.com/amp/s/timesofindia.indiatimes.com/india/lag-in-us-engine-supply-delays-iaf-induction-of-tejas-mark-1a/amp_articleshow/114748534.cms

GE will give us 2 Engines in 4 months from May 2025

That means for another 48 Aircraft to be formally inducted, it would take 100–110 months or near to 8 years

Our AMCA is still at basic design stage
IAF — so unprepared for the future, it is ridiculous!
[Rafale in IAF] Intrigued to find an op/ed with the title “Drawing borders in the air” in the Indian Express (1 July 2024) by Air Marshal Diptendu Choudhury (Retd). The title evoked for…

IAF — so unprepared for the future, it is ridiculous!

We originally planned to source 126 Rafale , 52 Imported and 74 Assembled with 30% minimum indigenous components

Instead we now have 36 Rafale, fully imported with no 4.5 generation indigenous assembly

Our import list for these aircraft goes from Polycarbonate Resin to Light Materials

Will China go for Territorial Expansion
China approves world’s largest dam over Brahmaputra river close to Indian border
China has approved a massive USD 137 billion hydropower dam on the Brahmaputra River near the Indian border, sparking concerns in India and Bangladesh. This infrastructure project, part of China’s 14th Five-Year Plan, aims to generate significant electricity and enhance cooperation while addressing ecological and safety concerns in a seismically active region.
https://www.google.com/amp/s/m.economictimes.com/news/international/world-news/china-greenlights-worlds-largest-dam-posing-risks-to-india-and-bangladesh/amp_articleshow/116671769.cms

China may even give up their interest in the Arunachal Pradesh region if they finish their latest mega power dam project that is larger than the three gorges

This could utilize 60% of the Brahmaputra’s downflow adding 33% to Chinas water supply

That gives them 90 years of assured water supply

So they don’t need to expand territory at all

Status Quo will be fine

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Phantom of the Cornfield

Ah, so you’ve returned, hungry for another tale of my brilliance. Very well, I, Sir Whiskerton, the farm’s foremost investigator, shall oblige. This time, my superior intellect was challenged by a mystery so strange, so spine-tingling, that it sent shivers through even the bravest barnyard creatures. It was a case whispered about in hushed tones under the moonlight: the case of the Phantom of the Cornfield.

Prepare yourself, dear reader, for a tale of courage, cunning, and a healthy dose of feline sarcasm.

The Whispered Rumors

It all began one autumn evening. The harvest moon hung heavy in the sky, casting long, eerie shadows over the farm. I was lounging on my usual perch atop the chicken coop, enjoying the crisp night air, when I overheard a hushed conversation below.

“I saw it, I swear!” clucked Henny Penny, her feathers quivering with fear. “A glowing figure, right there in the cornfield! It was floating and moaning!”

“Floating?” Harold the rooster scoffed, though his voice wavered. “Pfft, nonsense. Ghosts don’t exist.”

“But I heard it too!” Betty the sheep chimed in, her eyes wide. “It was a low, haunting moan, like this: ‘Ooooooh!’ It was terrifying!”

I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly fell off my perch. Ghosts. Honestly. The only thing haunting this farm is the collective idiocy of its residents. Still, their fear was palpable, and chaos was bad for my nap schedule. Clearly, I would have to get to the bottom of this “phantom.”

The Investigation Begins

At dawn, I began my investigation. The cornfield, located on the far edge of the farm, was a vast and tangled maze of stalks, perfect for hiding something—or someone. I padded silently between the towering rows, my ears perked for any unusual sounds.

The ground was littered with broken cornstalks and scattered kernels. I sniffed the dirt and detected faint traces of… something sweet. Strange. Corn doesn’t usually smell this sweet. My whiskers twitched with intrigue.

As I moved deeper into the field, I found more clues: claw marks on the stalks, bits of fur caught on the leaves, and what appeared to be a trail of sticky footprints. Ghosts don’t leave footprints, which meant I was dealing with something tangible. And tangible was my specialty.

The First Encounter

That night, I decided to stake out the cornfield. I perched on a low fence post near the edge of the field, my black fur blending perfectly with the shadows. The air was still, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze.

Then, just as the moon reached its zenith, I heard it: a low, mournful moan, carried on the wind.

“Oooooooh…”

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end—not because I was scared, of course, but because the sound was unexpected. I crouched low, my sharp eyes scanning the rows of corn.

And then I saw it.

A faint, glowing figure drifted between the stalks, its outline shimmering in the moonlight. It was tall and swayed as it moved, its moans growing louder as it approached. The other animals had been right about one thing: it was eerie.

But I am Sir Whiskerton, and I don’t scare easily. I crept closer, my paws silent on the soft earth. As I approached the figure, I noticed something odd. The glow wasn’t coming from the figure itself, but from something it was carrying. A lantern? No, it was too uneven. It looked… sticky.

Then it hit me. The smell. The glow. The sticky footprints.

“Honey,” I whispered. “It’s covered in honey.”

The Culprit Revealed

I leapt forward, claws extended, and landed directly in front of the “phantom.” It let out a startled yelp and dropped its glowing burden—a large jar of honey that shattered on the ground.

“Alright, show yourself,” I demanded, my green eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

The “phantom” froze, then slowly stepped into a patch of moonlight. And there, standing before me, was none other than Rufus the raccoon.

“Rufus,” I said, my tail lashing. “What, exactly, do you think you’re doing?”

He grinned sheepishly, honey dripping from his whiskers. “Oh, hey, Sir Whiskerton. Fancy meeting you here.”

“Cut the act,” I snapped. “Why are you sneaking around the cornfield, scaring everyone with your ridiculous glowing honey jar?”

“Well,” he said, scratching the back of his neck, “I heard Farmer Joe talking about harvesting the corn soon, so I figured I’d grab a few ears for myself. But then I tripped over a beehive on the way here, and, uh… things got messy.”

“Messy?” I echoed, incredulous. “You’ve been parading around the farm, dripping honey everywhere and wailing like a banshee.”

“That wasn’t on purpose!” he protested. “I got the honey all over me, and then the bees started chasing me, so I ran into the cornfield to hide. I might’ve… panicked a little.”

“And the moaning?”

“I was trying to scare the bees away!” he said, throwing up his paws. “I didn’t realize I was scaring everyone else too.”

I stared at him, torn between exasperation and amusement. “You’re lucky I found you before Farmer Joe did,” I said. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up before you cause any more chaos.”

The Resolution

The next morning, I gathered the animals in the barnyard and explained what had happened. Rufus, still sticky but sheepish, stood beside me as I recounted the tale.

“So you see,” I concluded, “there is no phantom. Just a clumsy raccoon with a sweet tooth and a flair for the dramatic.”

The animals burst into laughter, their fear replaced by relief. Even Henny Penny managed a chuckle, though she still insisted she had “felt a ghostly presence.”

As for Rufus, he promised to stay out of the cornfield—at least until the honey washed out of his fur. Farmer Joe never found out about the incident, and the farm returned to its usual, mildly chaotic routine.

And me? I basked in the glory of another mystery solved, another crisis averted. The moral of the story? Sometimes, the scariest things are just sticky raccoons in disguise.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a sunbeam waiting for me.

The End.

Comix fun

Thailand Prepares for Full Membership of BRICS

Easiest Homemade Pizza Dough

Yield: 2 medium pizza crusts or one extra large pizza crust

Ingredients

1 cup plain Greek yogurt
1 to 1 1/2 cups self-rising flour, divided

Instructions

Combine yogurt and 1 cup flour in the bowl of an electric stand mixer. Mix until combined, scraping down the bowl as necessary until combined.
Knead on medium high for 5 minutes.
Slowly add additional flour as necessary to help dough come together. Depending on how thick your yogurt is, you may need up to an extra 1/2 cup of flour.
Dust clean counter top with flour and remove dough from bowl. Knead a few turns until dough is tacky, but not sticky. Roll out and add toppings as desired.
Bake in a preheated 450 degrees F oven for 10 to 12 minutes.

Bitcoin and the BRICS will make Hong Kong the biggest financial center in the world

Nothing beats the quiet residential shady neighborhood, no matter how many fast-food joints surround it

While I was in university, my father bought a house in Erie, Pennsylvania with his wife (my step mother). It was a nice small middle-class home. Maybe made around the 1950’s. Pretty quaint, actually.

Maybe looking a little bit like this, only on a big lawn with a lot of old shady trees…

It was on the “West Side” of Erie, which was a very nice area of shady suburban streets and quiet neighborhoods.

Now, sometime around the 1990’s, they (whomever thought it was a good idea) decided to knock down some of the homes, and put up a strip mall. Not a large one. maybe five or so stores.

And it was ok.

You would walk down the shady quiet streets and then come upon a strip mall.

Well, this brought in more “foot traffic”.

So the road was enlarged.

The quiet residential street became a highway. And you had to carefully cross the street to get to the strip mall.

Then another strip mall opened up across from it.

And then another one a block further down.

And thus the cross road needed to be enlarged into a highway.

Well, a branch of the local library was opened up right across the street, and also came a Wendy’s restaurant. It was nice to have a Wendy’s there. I always thought that their hamburgers were world class.

And so we would go and get a hamburger with dad when we visited.

Miami,,Florida,Usa, ,10 26 2021,Wendy’s,Dave's,Single,Some,Out — Miami,,Florida,Usa, ,10 26 2021,Wendy’s,Dave’s,Single,Some,Out

Wendy’s had these really nice and greasy burgers. Quite tasty, actually.

And they always had this great chili too.

orig wendys chili the real 201712080600503821125r0ue

During the 1980s and into the 1990s they also had a very great salad bar. I don’t know if they still maintain them or not today.

From the Internet, I read that they have been phased out and replaced with pre-packaged salad “platform meals” sort of like this…

Ah. maybe they are good. But there is something very special about going to a salad bar when you are dirt poor and hungry and eating your fill.

Ah that was good eatin’ you all.

Later on they opened up a Pizza Hut.

That was good too.

I’m an American.

I love pizza.

And when it came to Pizza Hut, our favorite was always a thin-crust pepperoni pizza.

But, guys …

Guys…

Guys!

Nothing beats the quiet residential shady neighborhood, no matter how many fast-food joints surround it.

Trust me on this.

Shade has value.

But is often under-rated and forgotten.

Quiet streets.

Misty mornings.

Rain soaked days.

Sunny Summer Afternoons.

Fresh mowed grass.

Dawn.

A shady paradise.

It’s got value.

67719f18cfbb28764636170421a10d4f the gift shades

Today…

What screams “I can fight”?

I don’t go to bars much, but one of the few times I did, I was at a table near the bar trying to be invisible because a crowd of gang members came in, loud and rude. A guy in glasses, average height, slight build but moved with uncommon grace was bringing his beer from the bar past my table. One of the rowdy guys bumped him, and probably didn’t notice his drink hadn’t spilled. The guy acted all offended and had that look that violence would follow. The graceful gent held his glass out and offered the guy his drink. It threw the guy off and he actually stepped in to take it.

“Let give you some advice,” he said quietly. “Notice when someone isn’t remotely scared. Push this any further and you’re going to be severely embarrassed in front of your friends.”

The guy stepped back and surveyed the cool character, rearranged his face and loudly thanked him for the drink and went back to the bar.

The fellow nodded and left the place, me quickly following so as not be the next victim.

Outside I called, “Bluff or fact?”

He turned and smiled, then kept walking.

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

There were two leaked test flights on Chairman Mao’s birthday: one by Shenyang aircraft corp, another by Chengdu aircraft corp.

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The double landing gear implies that it is massive, likely larger than its escort fighter jets.

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Firstly, nobody knows whether it is an actual generational leap forward, especially when the parameters for 6th generation aircraft are not defined yet. Even now, there are plenty of controverisal 5th generation look-alikes by South Korea and Turkiye, for example. No one even knows whether there is a “bulb” for a human pilot on either aircraft.

Similar cockpit bulb exists for the American NGAD program.

Secondly, the design is very unique and frankly unprecedented. Three engines is very rare on planes that are not civilian liners, and could be to compensate for weakness of its engine. (Given the huge size of the aircraft, its engine could be Guizhou WS-13, the J-20’s powerplant.) The large area delta wing design in addition to the power of 3 engines is also fuelling rumors that it can access near space altitudes.

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There have been some theories about its elastic skin finally being applied widely. This would likely provide stealth and more seamless fuselage.

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Thirdly, they could be the first application of China’s loyal wingman program: smart lethal drones that complement fighter jets. If true, this would break the stereotype of drones being small, buzzing and slow things. The Americans don’t think they are drones though.

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Fourth: a big salute to Chinese aviation professionals, for their hardwork and sacrifice. China went from lacking in air combat to now a global leader. All this within a century! In 1924, China was still an agricultural nation split between different warlords!

Top: 2nd gen fighter accompanying prototype 4th gen

Middle: 4th gen fighter accompanying prototype 5th gen

Bottom: 5th gen fighter accompanying the mystery prototype advanced aircraft.

And of course, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CHAIRMAN!

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UNLOCKED FOR GENERAL PUBLIC — EXTREMELY SENSITIVE

Hal Turner World March 25, 2025

This content was previously LOCKED for Subscribers Only — but is now UNLOCKED in the public interest.

On Monday, I was made aware that the United States had deployed three (3) B-2 Stealth Bombers to Diego Garcia in the Indian Ocean. That puts them within range of both Yemen and Iran.

Even though this was also rumored over social media, I chose not to report it because I don’t want to endanger our troops or a mission.

Some relevant facts: As of 2024, the US Air Force has nineteen (19) B-2 stealth bombers in service, after one was destroyed in a 2008 crash and another damaged in a 2022 crash was retired due to the high cost of repair.

Given we have only 19 of these super-high-tech bombers, putting three of them somewhere is a big deal.

TUESDAY . . . . I found out that FOUR (4) MORE B-2 Stealth Bombers left for Diego Garcia overnight. Folks, that’s a total of SEVEN (7) B-2 Stealth bombers . . . . . . . out of only 19 in the world . . . . . all gathered on Diego Garcia.

My gut tells me this is big. Bigger than big. Something HUGE is about to take place and I don’t think it’s bombing the Houthis in Yemen.

My personal view, based upon nothing more than my gut, is that we are going to attack Iran. Soon. VERY soon. Maybe even tonight.

If this takes place, it is already a known fact that Iran will try to close the Strait of Hormuz, which will send oil prices skyrocketing, and gasoline prices at the pump heading toward $10 maybe $12 per gallon. More for diesel fuel.

The impact on our economy will be staggering.

If you have gas cans, I strongly suggest you fill them up. TODAY.

If you don’t have any gas cans, I suggest you get some. TODAY.

The United States of America does not position seven of its most expensive, most high-tech bombers, halfway around the world, to “posture.” They put those planes out when they’re going to be used.

This is way serious.

MORE:

Iran is a military ally of Russia, and a BRICS economic ally of both Russia and China.

Both Russia and China have openly, publicly, stated they will “not stand-by and allow Iran to be attacked.”

If the US and/or Israel goes ahead with an attack upon Iran, the reaction by both Russia and China could be to put an end to the United States and our shenanigans.

Top-off your food, water, and medicine preps. TODAY.

More if I get it.

UPDATE 7:32 PM EDT —

I can now CONFIRM that the four additional B-2 Stealth were heard over shortwave radio with confirmed destination of Diego Garcia:

1450z: Call signs “ABBA 11” flt ?x4? USAF B-2/A Spirit’s Wkg San Francisco (SFO) HF 11282 khz Cleared to Destination NSF Diego Garcia FJDG from Whiteman AFB KSZL

I can now also confirm that one of the original aircraft, which departed Whiteman AFB in Missouri Sunday-into-Monday, suffered an In-Flight EMERGENCY and had to land at Hickam Field in Hawaii.

I have received an Image showing that aircraft, Call Sign “PITCH 13”, on the ground in Hawaii, with a Fire Rescue Truck deployed to it. There was no external sign of any fire and the nature of the in-flight emergency is not (yet) known:

US B2 Stealth Bomber After Emergency Laning Honolulu

UPDATE 7:55 PM EDT —

Additional B-2 Stealth Bomber(s) seen taking off from Whiteman AFB in Missouri – TUESDAY NIGHT:

Additional B2 Taking off TONIGHT 03 25 2025

MORE:

At least 18 US Air Force refueling tankers are being staged in the Pacific with several each at Travis AFB in CA, Daniel K. Inouye IAP in HI, and Andersen AFB in Guam. This suggests some kind of large movement of air assets into the Pacific theater – or the Indian Ocean – will take place this week.

UPDATE 8:25 PM EDT —

In addition to the B-2 Stealth Bombers and eighteen (18) Refueling tankers reported above, I can now also report the following:

7 C-17A Globemaster IIIs have arrived over the last 3 days, or are currently en-route to the island.

C-17 flights into Diego Garcia:

3 originated at Whiteman AFB, MO (B-2 Support)

2 originated at Dover AFB, DE (Unk purpose)

1 originated at Fairchild AFB, WA (KC-135 Support)

1 originated at JB McGuire, NJ (Unk purpose)

UPDATE 10:18 PM EDT (Tuesday night) —

More ancillary information has been obtained which now reveals an explicit time frame for military action.

The military base at Diego Garcia has very limited space and, believe it or not, there have to be “Reservations” for aircraft parking spaces at that base!

The United States has secured aircraft parking spaces for the B2 Stealth “until May 1.”

Soooooo . . . . whatever is going to be done with those Stealth Bombers, must necessarily take place between right now and May 1. That’s 5 weeks.

The base at Diego Garcia is in the Indian Ocean. The aircraft at that base – especially the Stealth Bombers – are now “in-range” for Yemen and . . . . . . . . . . . Iran. Look:

History records that when NATO attacked Yugoslavia in March of the year 1999, the United States sent three (3) B-2 Stealth Bombers during the 78 days of bombing that ultimately crushed that country and broke it apart.

Three Bombers for Yugoslavia.

Why then are SIX now massed at Diego Garcia with more such jets having taken off tonight out of Missouri? The red dotted line on the map above seems to indicate what’s coming.

Iran.

Here’s the rub: Iran has a military defense Treaty with Russia, and China has publicly declared they “will not allow our fellow BRICS member, and ally, Iran, to be attacked and destroyed.”

So if the US (and likely Israel) have any ideas about attacking Iran and destroying it, we could see world war 3 break-out so fast none of us would have time to even think.

Prepare.

Emergency food, water, medicines you need to live on. A generator. Fuel for that generator. First-Aid Kits. Transistor Radio as well as a CB or HAM radio for local communications and to be able to get news from around the world via shortwave.

Remember, the aircraft parking reservation is good until May 1, but the action would have to take place BEFORE that date. So there is not much time to prepare – at all.

Take advantage of the time we may have, act deliberately to prepare, and pray.

This is not a joke. This is more serious than a heart attack.

UPDATE 10:20 PM EDT (WEDNESDAY)

This morning, Russian President Vladimir Putin sent the Russia-Iran Strategic Agreement to the Russian Stated Duma (Legislature) for ratification into law.

The Agreement “comes into effect in Mid-April.”

If the agreement comes into effect in “Mid-April” taken to mean April 15, then the time frame for potential US Action against Iran seems to be now COMPRESSED to “before April 15” if the US wants to strike before the Russian Strategic Agreement comes into effect.

So we may have less time than I thought to prepare.

This is why 5% of men get 95% of women

Why do Russian fighter jet engines have a reputation for poor longevity compared to Western-built contemporaries?

You tell me one thing where Russia or China have a reputation for better longevity compared to Western built contemporaries

It’s always the same thing

Western made products are high quality, superior while Russian and Chinese made products are inferior and have lower quality

Its just perception according to me

Russia has access to refined materials, applied materials and engineers and physicists

They have the money needed to develop advanced aircraft engines

So logically there is no reason why Russian engines should have any reputation for poor longevity

Russia is capitalist today so even the State Inefficiency excuse can no longer be used

main qimg 7609932dce1a99fad4ebac23138f7a41

There are no parameters to claim Russian engines are inferior and low quality

No evidence of Russian made engine failures

Flights of Russian made aircraft in Airshows have been exemplary

No Peer to Peer comparison

So i just don’t buy that anymore

Not unless you tell me the Westerners are Aliens

China Now Has Zero Fear; Major Warning For G7 Economies – What’s Coming In 2025

What are smart unique hiding places you figure are safe from theft and robbery other than a bank safe?

I used to be a drug addict. I hid stuff all over the place.

One place I successfully hid items was in my body pillow. The pillow had a pillowcase, and the pillow itself had a cover with a zipper. It was stuffed with goose down. I would unzip the zipper and stash things in there, then put the pillowcase back on so that the zipper was on the closed end of the case. Nobody ever looked there, and my place was thoroughly searched.

Another place I used to hide things was in my dresser. But not in a drawer. I would take the bottom drawer out, then put the items under there and to the side a bit. The drawer can be pulled out and dumped, but nobody would think to look under the dresser after they took the drawer out.

I also used to hide small things, like money or dope in little container. I would tape the container, or depending on where it was, I would use velcro with a sticky back, into out of sight places. For instance, I opened my top dresser drawer and used velcro to hold a little plastic box to the underside of the top of the dresser. You open the drawer, but don’t see anything. Because it is hidden out of sight behind the front of the dresser. I also used to tape containers to the wall behind my headboard. Nobody ever looked there.

Another place I hid stuff was in the hollow legs of my ironing board. There were little plastic caps on the ends, and I would just remove them, place my items inside, and put the caps back on and put the ironing board away like normal.

Another place to hide stuff is in the hem of drapes. Find an inconspicuous place, and cut a tiny slit on the inside, or better yet, on the fold of the hem. Then stick your money in there and forget it.

I had a little wicker bowl that I kept seashells in. I stuffed little dope baggies in the shells. Nobody was any the wiser.

I once made a false bottom for a drawer. I cut a piece of plywood (I don’t know what kind it was, but it was thin, like paneling) and glued four little “legs on it” (I used some old pull knobs off a dresser I redid) and placed it in the drawer, “legs” down. That made a little space about 2 inches high under the board. I used an old thin metal spatula to lift the false bottom out when I wanted to get to the hiding place.

Put small items in an old pill container, or some water-tight container. Dig a hole in the dirt in a potted plant, place the container in the hole and cover with dirt.

Miniblinds are a good place to hide tiny things. Up top, the part that attaches to the wall. There is usually a little plastic piece that hides the guts of the blinds. Just remove it, stash your item, place the thing back.

I had all kinds of hiding places; these are just a few that I remember.

China Unveils A Hypersonic Drone With Horizontal Landing & It Shocked Scientist

Why is it that the Chinese are so successful in technology? Is it because they are forced to learn Chinese, one of the most difficult languages to learn? So that when they have learnt it, all STEM subjects become extremely easy in comparison?

The Chinese were bad at technology from 1863 to 2014. Even though the written language is the same.

What happened in 2014 was that a lot of engineers graduated in China. The USA also educates many engineers, but they are also Chinese and go home after graduating.

It was me who told the Chinese that the technical revolution began in Britain because military engineers did civilian work in peacetime. And it is the engineers who limit a country’s development.

Today, most of the world’s engineers are Chinese engineers.

When you are a leader in a technological area, this quickly spreads to all areas.

Hot Tuna and Cheddar Sandwiches

Ingredients

2 cans water-packed albacore tuna, drained and flaked
1/2 cup chopped celery
1 small onion, finely chopped
1 cup (4 ounces) shredded Cheddar cheese
1/2 cup chopped green olives
1/4 cup mayonnaise
Dash of black pepper
4 burger buns, split

Instructions

Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
Combine all ingredients, divide evenly among buns.
Wrap sandwiches loosely in aluminum foil, place on baking sheet, and bake 15 to 20 minutes or until heated through.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

If Mongolia joins NATO, will it become a second Ukraine?

If you are a mathematician, you can turn it into a “solvable problem”, such as how to deliver NATO weapons and troops to Mongolia?

Mongolia is a landlocked country, completely surrounded by Russia and China. Of course, the only possibility is that NATO weapons are delivered to Mongolia from outer space (beyond the airspace). If NATO can deliver more than 2 million troops to Mongolia (about two-thirds of Mongolia’s total population), then Mongolia can be guaranteed to be safe in NATO.

5 myths about China that I no longer believe

How was the experience of using the Internet in 1999-2000?

I was 42 years old.

To me – The Internet was a mystic world. Youngsters kept saying “Internet”, “Internet”. My Son and his classmates were caught by their teacher for apparently trying to watch “Pamela Anderson” pictures at a neighboring Internet Centre next to their school (The Owner ratted them out) and we parents were summoned. I didnt care too much about the Pamela Anderson Pictures but apparently- the Internet was like Aladdins cave – people said you could get anything you wanted.

Before we got a computer – we had Internet Centres which charged 40 – 60 Rupees an Hour. I remember the Owner telling me “Sir!!! Give my email id. I will print the mail and deliver it to your house for Rs. 20/-”

The First time i sat at a computer at the Internet Centre – i was utterly dazed. No clue. The Owner helped me. Clicking on Netscape Navigator (back then that was our Google Chrome) → then Askjeeves. com (That was our Google).

My First email id on Hotmail (That was our Gmail) – i forgot my password in 6 hours. I had to write my next password on white paper and put it in my wallet. This was because when i reset my password the first time – it automatically generated a password “silverrobber53” and i never realized i could change this after my first login.

Then we got our own Computer and i remember the Modem and its noise. Then Outlook Express would fire up and we would get our VSNL (Later Satyam) mail.

Our US Relatives would state things that none of us except maybe my children could understand. Sending an attachment was a thing nobody could do.

And we had our own version of Byju Raveendran – NIIT and SSI offered a course on Internet Basics. People attended these classes where they were taught things like LAN, WAN, Star Topology etc and less of how to browse. They paid over Rs. 6000/- for such a course.

Downloading a Picture was next to impossible. It would take minutes. Streaming was a far off dream. Streaming a file would take 13–15 minutes – with the word buffering 15%, 20%, 30%, 60% and again go back to Buffering 10% irritating me so much – that i would want to smash the computer to kingdom come.

Then every hardware you had – you had to download drivers and this was a huge nuisance. Every single time – you needed drivers.

I learnt to Chat – using Yahoo Messenger first and then MSN Messenger. Voice Chat would be like wanting to talk to the Moon.

Rediff was my first source of online news. Slowly i was familiar with loggin on to the internet, going to rediff and reading news and movie reviews.

Then Google came – and many things changed. Then came Gmail.

Then came Broadband Connections, Faster Internet offered first by BSNL only then later by Airtel (Although i still feel BSNL was better).

Finally you had Skype that revolutionized communications completely followed by Zoom.

And I was more familiar with the internet than ever before.

I booked my first hotel trip in 2008 with makemytrip, my first airline ticket in the same year, my first railway ticket using irctc also in 2008.

I downloaded my first film on torrent in 2009 (Nu Torrent).

Can we talk to those who have seen the Ford Model T? or to whose who have seen the First Television or Radio? Or even the first Refrigerator?

No.

However we can still happily interact with those who were the earliest users of the Internet and learn about the revolution from the Old Computer Systems where Memory was measured in Megabytes (TB, GB were unknown). 16 MB Ram was regarded as Cutting Edge. 4 GB HardDisk was a rage when HCL introduced it.

From Modems to Hotspots

From Eudora Pro to Zoom and Whatsapp

From Askjeeves to Google

From a 15–20 minute time to download a single picture of Pamela Anderson to streaming any video from Porn sites in a matter of seconds.

Proud to have been part of this Revolution which will continue to go on and on.

The Seventh Experiment: Lacerta Reveals the Truth of our Creation

China Debuts First 6th Generation Fighter Jet

Hal Turner World December 26, 2024

China’s “White Emperor” Takes Flight: A New Era in Air Dominance as China shows-off a WORKING 6th Generation Fighter Jet prototype.

China has completed the maiden flight of its sixth-generation fighter jet, known as the “White Emperor.” The tailless, stealth-designed jet, which took to the skies alongside a Chengdu J-20S fighter, represents a leap forward in military aviation. With a unique three-engine configuration and cutting-edge stealth capabilities, the White Emperor is more than a prototype, it’s a clear statement of intent.

Meanwhile, the U.S. struggles to move its Next Generation Air Dominance (NGAD) program beyond the drawing board. With no working prototype and a fractured development process, the gap between ambition and execution for Washington is growing ever wider.

The skies are shifting.

While the U.S. debates budgets and contracts, China is flying prototypes. The White Emperor’s debut signals a turning point, where next-generation technology is no longer monopolized by the West.

Lest we forget the money laundering boondoggle, half trillion dollar and growing F35. White Emperor is much more than a fighter jet—it’s a symbol of a new order, where nations, like China once sidelined by U.S. hegemony are taking the lead.

Gun owners who have defensively shot someone; what happened and what was the aftermath of the situation?

One of my old classmates was a New Orleans native and his parents still lived there when Katrina hit. Given they were elderly, he rode a bicycle and then walked a good ways thru debris to check on them. He took a pistol with him.

When he got to his parent’s house there was considerable wind damage and several trees down but they were not flooded. As he approached the back yard, he saw his parents duct taped into folding chairs and the back door wide open. He drew his gun and cautiously approached the yard when a man came out with a pillow case full of looted items. He yelled at the guy to drop it and the man reached towards his waist band, so my classmate shot him.

He checked on the guy and he was dead and then he immediately went to free his parents. They were terrified but unharmed.

He called 911 and after a considerable wait on hold, he explained to a dispatcher that a looter had been shot and asked what he should do. The dispatcher calmly told him that all units were busy and to drag the body out to the street and leave it. She didn’t ask for his name or address. So, he did what she said and then left with his parents.

Nothing ever came from it as New Orleans was martial law for many days. My classmate was upset but he knew that the intruder would likely have killed his parents, and him, had he not shot him. As one of my other friends succinctly put it, the other guy dealt the hand, he just wasn’t expecting to lose.

12 Year-Old Finds Out She’s Pregnant | House M.D. | Sirens

How can the U.S. maintain its military edge over China?

Boeing’s first engineer was a Chinese.

Chinese scientists helped out on the Manhattan project.

The JPL was co-founded by a Chinese. The Nazi scientist, the father of US rocketry, was vetted and employed by the same Chinese. That very Chinese was unfairly kicked out of his lab and expelled from the US after the Korean War for being a China sympathizer, so he went back to China, founded Chinese rocketry and space program, and led to Chinese superiority in hypersonic missile tech today.

Both NVidia and AMD’s CEO are ethnically Chinese.

If the US’s only goal is to beat China, easy, grant US citizenship and money to more Chinese scientists than China can keep them. This would work for as long as the US is richer than China. That’s what kept the US ahead for so long: the ability to brain-drain all the other countries.

If you give up on the US’s biggest advantage because you’re concerned about minor issues like Chinese spying, or Chinese companies buying up American lands, or Chinese social media getting teenagers addicted, or Chinese drone company collecting data on American farms, or Chinese scientists working with NASA, or Chinese math nerds being accepted into Ivy league more than high school footballers, or any other form of institutional racism rebranded under a different name, you’re setting up the US for failure.

What do Marines think of Navy Corpsman?

I don’t know about Marines in particular, but when I got shot in Fallujah, I had 3 Army senior NCOs (I’m also army) scooting the younger Troops away and were trying to figure out what to do with my leg (Upper Thigh) and the bleeding.

A Lance Corporal was on site, supporting the Marine Battalion, and he came up with his gear and laid it all out, told two E-7s to back up, ignored the Master Sergeant who said he was in charge here, and gave me ketamine to calm me down, some local anesthetics and proceeded to remove the round, clean and pack the wound, wrap my leg and used safety pins to “repair where he cut my Desert Fatigues, ave me some Motrin (of course) and slipped me two Percocet and took off to the next injured Soldier.

I never caught his name, but I respect the shit out of him for taking charge as the only “real” medic in our AO.

Semper Fi, Cousin, whoever you are and where ever you are.

Bottled Time

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

Anne Shillingsburg

The perfume jars started accumulating before Gemini’s birth, an accidental collection in which Francine felt no real interest for many years. The first was a gift from Francine’s college roommate, who brought it back from a trip to Egypt on the mistaken impression that anyone as interested in her appearance as Francine would also love perfume. She did not. To her it smelled like a chemistry lab and gave her headaches, but the little glass jar was pretty and she couldn’t smell the contents when the stopper was in. She hadn’t meant for it to be a collection, but when she saw a matching jar on their package trip to Turkey, she bought it for a souvenir. Then one that Dennis’ sister found in the gift shop of a Mediterranean restaurant. Honestly, that one is a little tacky.One of the first things Gemini ever bought with her own money was the yellow one with the hummingbird, a bargain at a junk shop. It was Francine’s favorite. From there of course it had become a collection, for what else was she going to put on the little carved shelves of the vanity table? She detested little knickknacks and the shelves were only two inches wide and had a little rail around them, so nothing could hang over at all. Gemini once put her little dolls up there and played that they were on the deck of a ship until her mother came in and fussed at her for standing on the vanity table.Gemini was named not only for her December birthday, but also for the brother who died in the womb they shared. Francine was torn in two about the whole thing. Twin babies, a boy and girl, a perfect family formed all at once at the age of 24 when one pregnancy would not do her figure too much harm. Becoming the mother of this perfect family was the dream of her life, her shot at doing right all that her mother had done wrong, so the loss of one twin was a devastating blow that laid her out on her bed for days, Dennis coming home evenings to lie beside her and whisper into her hair that she had to pull through for the sake of the other one.Never feeling a kick in his own body, Dennis could sympathize, but never really understood loving a thing half-formed and never seen. He did not resent this week of grief, the one period of his married life when dinner was not ready and smooth-edged wife did not greet him at the door, but he was disoriented by it. His relief, when Francine pulled herself up and buttoned down her loose edges, was not only for her but also for himself and the yawning years of taking care of her rather than being taken care of that had loomed in his imagination.Gemini was adored from the first day of her life, but she was not twins, and the empty space of her extracted brother remained in their lives until a new brother was made to fill the hole.But those days were gone, and the question of the moment was what to do with the vanity table. Gemini voted that it should go with Fracine to the assisted living facility, but she had been away while Elliot and Dennis had overseen her decline, watching as she sat hour after hour at the table, no longer opening creams or filing nails, but just running the jagged deeply lined ones over the little perfume jars. Alabastrons Gemini now knew at least the ancient version of them would have been called.“Doesn’t that mean she wants them?” Gemini argued. “What will happen if she can’t sit here?”“When she isn’t sitting here, she’s a person again. I’d rather get rid of the table and keep her here than send the table with her,” Elliot contended.He was right. She would need to take the table in the downsizing or let it go out of the family. Dennis was moving to an apartment. He had not married to be a caretaker but to be taken care of. He’d even looked into divorce as a solution to the expense of the home until his children’s horrified expressions took the option off the table.Gemini agreed to ship the vanity to her apartment at an expense of three times its value and brought up a stack of newsprint to wrap the jars in. Reaching first for the yellow one with the hummingbird, Gemini tipped it on its side with no thought to contents. She knew her mother did not wear perfume, so the too sharp smell of the leaked fragrance surprised her.Even as she recognized the painful pierce in her nose of too much, she described it to herself as pleasantly floral before it swept her away and she floated on the billowy clouds of the scent through time and space.Elliot wriggles in his father’s arms, not more than a year old and struggling in the way of much-loved babies to get into the arms of another by simply flopping into them and trusting he’ll be caught. He flops into Gemini’s boney arms, never-cut wisps of baby blond hair swept every direction, two tiny razor-sharp bottom teeth making the whole of a grin so dimpled beautiful it makes floating Gemini feel a physical ache for the baby he was before she lands inside the body of her young self and can feel only what she felt in the moment. The baby smell of his head and the satin of his skin, the folds of fat in his tiny arms.Dennis leans into the baby and kisses him on the mouth. Elliot, just able to pucker, makes an exaggerated “mwa!” sound, showing his unfathomable dimples.“Oh, that was a nice one! I don’t think it’s fair to keep that one. I better share it with Mama!” he declares to the infant, who gestures emphatically and babbles what is clearly a sentence of total agreement that contains no human words. Dennis pulls Francine to him by her waist and plants the kiss on her lips.“Mmm,” she says, with a relishing half-close of the eyes, as though it were a chocolate truffle. “You’re right. Come here, baby, you gotta try this one!” She says, planting the kiss on Gemini’s lips with a crinkle-nosed expression of adoration.Gemini giggles delightedly and kisses her baby brother’s lips.“This is it,” her mother declares, “the best minute of my whole life.” There is a joke in her voice, but her eyes brim with joy as her husband turns to plant the baby’s kiss back on her lips a second time.“Not you too!” declared Elliot. The breeze from the window he’d opened to cut the smell floated Gemini out of her child body and back to the table, where a puddle of perfume was soaking through the newspaper.She shook her head. “Sorry,” she said, confused. “I just remembered something from when you were a baby.”They had to descend all the way to the first floor to get the reeking newspapers out of the house before the thick scent worked over Gemini’s head. Dennis called for their help dismantling a bed and they were distracted from the task.But the rest of the day it tugged at her, the pull back up to the vanity and the reality of the memory it triggered. Memory was a wholly inadequate word, hardly different from a description. Even deja vu evokes only the feeling associated with a past time, not the details of word, facial expression, texture. It was more like transport through time.When Dennis and Elliot were finishing up for the day, she wandered off upstairs to think alone.She rebelled against her mother’s idea that the love of a man was enough, that devotion to him could be an identity, that a shared family kiss could be the best that life had to offer. And yet, the emotional landscape that revisited moment had plunged her into had felt filling in a way work had so rarely. She lifted the stopper from another jar to see if the smell would affect her again.Before she could consistently smell the scent, it visibly swept through the room leaving colorful tracks like the speed marks left by a cartoon race car. The wind tracks lifted her away and set her down into her child body.“Gemini!” Elliot’s voice broke through with a volume and urgency that showed it was not the first or the second time he’d called her name.She blinked into herself, looking down in surprise at her adult body, her sensible clothes.“Where were you?” he asked, partly joking.“I was at a tea party with you and Camellia.” She smiled at the image of them in her mother’s beach hats and sunglasses, singing silly songs to toddler Elliot to keep him from crying. Her heart ached for the girl her cousin used to be, before heartbreak and prescription pills got between them. But all she said aloud was, “Something about this scent triggers my memory.” She downplayed the experience, aware that calling it time travel would alarm him and she was having enough trouble coping with her own alarm.“I’ve been waiting for you for half an hour,” he said and looked at her suspiciously. “Don’t get lost here,” he said finally, both thinking of their mom.Packing up more items the next day, the three of them were back in the attic bedroom. She opened the door at the right side of the vanity table and was surprised to find a dozen identical crystal perfume bottles with angles cut like gemstones and labeled with raised metallic lettering.“What’s this?” Gemini asked over her shoulder toward her dad and Elliot. “Why did mom have all this? She hated perfume.”

“Hated perfume?” Dennis asked, approaching. “She loved perfume. I always got her perfume for special occasions.” He crouched down. All the bottles were unopened. He shook his head in confusion. “But… she…”

“Was it this?” Gemini asked as he sat down in the chair. She pulled the long stopper out of one of the exotic perfume jars and waved it under her father’s nose.

Dennis is floating on a scented wind that seems to leave colored trails behind him. He spins a few times, gently but irresistibly in the current until he finds himself approaching Marie from behind as she stands before the bathroom mirror, replacing her earrings, her blouse still open. He reaches inside it and cups her smooth breast. She responds in a way his wife never does. For Francine it is always for him, her own pleasure never weakened a knee or turned her toward him despite the need to leave, as Marie turns now. Still, Marie does have to leave, not only because she has a meeting, but especially because Francine will be back from tennis and lunch by 2:30.

Marie sprays perfume in front of her neck and leans into it, which presses her backside against Dennis and he reaches for her again. As she turns to kiss him, one hand replaces the perfume bottle on the tiled ledge above the sink. She sinks into him and he thinks how much he’d like to hold on to this passionate moment, this refuge from the prosaic sameness of life.

“Dad?” Gemini said, actually snapping her fingers in front of his face.

“Then it wasn’t hers,” he said, withdrawing from the fifteen-year-old affair with a sucking kind of resistance he can almost hear.

“What wasn’t whose?” His eyes focused on his now-adult daughter, and he understood he could not say aloud what he has realized: that all the time he thought he was buying the brand of perfume his wife liked, he was just buying the brand his mistress had left on the sink. He slumped in the seat and covered his face with his hands. Francine must have known too.

“These bottles are weird,” Gemini said. “Hey, how was mom when you saw her this morning?”

“She was…” it took Elliot a moment to consider. “She was really good, actually. Maybe sad. But very lucid.”

“These bottles…” Gemini brushed their tops with her hand. “How long do you think she’s been…declining? I mean the fading out episodes?”

Elliot’s tone was soft. “Gem, it’s like 15 years. Since I still lived at home.”

Dennis responded to the words “15 years” with a slight start: around the time of that first found bottle.

One of the jars broke in the move. Not the dragonfly one, thankfully. She had taken exactly one of the unopened perfume bottles from the vanity door and put the others up for sale on ebay. The vanity table sat against the wall in her bedroom, the mirror and glass perfume jars still wrapped in paper for weeks as she went off to dig up temples and more weeks while she simply ignored them and then days more while she waited for the tiny funnel set to arrive by mail.

As soon as the paper was torn back from the mirror she could see herself as her mother would: misplaced strands of hair and manly hoodie, natural prettiness sagging with age and sun. She hesitated before pouring the contents of the crystal vial into the Egyptian glass, wondering if the magic was made by the table, the jars, the scent, the house, her mother’s phantom presence or some combination. But she was not superstitious. How could she be, making her daily bread desecrating ancient temples? She knew that the all-absorbing vividness of the visions she’d had in her mother’s room were influenced by the emotions of her decline and her moving. And yet, she wondered. Wondered if her mother too hadn’t been lost at all but had been there, wandering through the house at other times. The moments Gemini had visited had both been her mother’s memories, both bound inside the house. Could the scent take her somewhere else?

She removed the spray nozzle and held the bottle to her nose. It was just a smell, both pleasant and excessive, but not evocative, not transportative. She smirked at herself for the notion. Thought I had a portal to other times, here.

But the very second the scent funneled into the glass jar in her left hand, she was wafted away to a darkened theater. The wind swept her in a colorful pass over her own head, still free of any gray, and that of her best friend from graduate school, Liz. Present Gemini had a split second to recognize it as the day their first joint paper had been accepted for presentation at a conference, before she is plunged into her slimmer, drunker self.

Onstage a trio of string musicians are performatively competing against each other for the audience’s approval with their fourth running— still sawing away on the instrument on her shoulder—up and down the aisles in search of a volunteer. Onstage one of the women reaches around the cello player with her bow and begins playing along with her, comically bitter facial expression showing that she’s trying to undermine her, while the actual music is glorious. The audience howls laughter.

As Gemini watches the show, Liz has caught the attention of the violinist and is pointing with both hands toward Gemini, “It’s her birthday!” she lies in a stage whisper. The violinist pulls Gemini to her feet to a roar from the crowd and she makes her way to the stage.

It’s bright and hot and for just a second she doesn’t know what to say when the blonde pianist with the microphone asks her how old she’s turning. But then she belly laughs and hollers, “It’s not my birthday! Liz Bailey just said that to get me on stage!” And in the ruckus, Liz is identified and pulled up on the stage as well.

She reaches out for her friend’s hand and thinks, “This is who I want to be. A thoroughly unstuffy intellectual: the PhD at the party.” She pictures her dad’s felt elbow patches and mentally peels them off, leaving shabby holes to match the ones in the jeans she’s wearing. She smiles at Liz.

An alarm asserted itself with increasing force. Four notes, the first the loudest and longest, obviously an alarm, but the edges digitally rounded off. For a moment, onstage Gemini resists, wanting to stay with Liz, but the alarm was adamant. Gemini saw that her left hand lingered on the funnel and glass perfume jar, while the store-bought crystal bottle was on the table, forgotten. She refocused her view, taking in the phone, the light through the window. It was morning. The alarm was her wake-up alarm. She had sat here time traveling the whole night.

It gave her pause, certainly. The part of her that dug sacred artifacts out of the past wanted to preserve this, study it, find the source of its power. The part of her that wanted to preserve time in a bottle. But she thought of her mother, escaping the life that wasn’t enough, after all, to dwell in the moments that were. It was no way to live; the moments had to be created.

The alarm still rang as she threw the jars, forcefully, hoping they would shatter, into the trash, and then yesterday’s coffee grounds down on top, just to discourage changing her mind. As she picked it up to shut off the alarm, she was already composing a text to Liz asking her to call this evening. It had been too long.

Why don’t people live in the middle of Australia?

In agreement with the other answers, it’s too bloody hot out there, mate!

But, in fact there are some people who do, and one particular town did it by moving underground.

Coober Pedy is a mining town. It is just over 800km inland from Adelaide.

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At first glance it doesn’t look like much. As you can see the middle of Australia isn’t that inviting.

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But in this particular town this is the tip of the desert iceberg. Most of this bustling town activities not just happen indoors, but underground.

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And what they have done is simply stunning.

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To be able to withstand the heat, everything has been carved out of the rocks. The homes, the church, hotels. They even have a casino.

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With temperatures reaching up to 40 degrees Celsius (104 degrees Fahrenheit) the underground town keeps itself cool and regulated with vent shafts.

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They have hotels if you wish to stay or you can even camp underground.

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So while most people prefer to keep away from that kind of heat, there are about 3500 people in this particular town who’ll tell you that actually some people do live in the middle of Australia.

Deliciously Tangy: How to Make Sweet Bread and Butter Pickles

December 30, 2024 by Blake Murphy

When it comes to preserving summer’s bounty, few foods are as popular as pickles. Among the myriad of varieties, sweet bread and butter pickles hold a special place in the hearts of many. Whether served alongside a hearty sandwich, added to a charcuterie board, or enjoyed straight out of the jar, these pickles are a delightful balance of sweetness and tanginess. In this comprehensive guide, we’ll explore the art of making sweet bread and butter pickles from scratch, offering insights into the ingredients, the pickling process, and some creative serving suggestions.

The Reason Why Americans Can’t Afford Families Anymore. Find The American Dream Living Abroad.

Understanding Sweet Bread and Butter Pickles

Sweet bread and butter pickles are a type of pickled cucumber that originated in the United States, primarily in the Midwest.

They are characterized by their sweet flavor profile with a touch of vinegar, which gives them a unique and appealing taste. Typically made from cucumbers, onions, and a simple pickling brine, these pickles are perfect for those who enjoy a sweeter condiment to complement savory dishes.

Ingredients You Will Need

To create the perfect batch of sweet bread and butter pickles, you will need the following ingredients:

Ingredient	Quantity
Small cucumbers (pickling cucumbers are the best)	4-5 cups, sliced
Onion (thinly sliced)	1 large or 2 medium
Vinegar (white or apple cider vinegar)	2 cups
Sugar	1 ½ cups
Salt (pickling or kosher salt)	1 tablespoon
Turmeric	1 teaspoon
Ground ginger (optional)	½ teaspoon
Whole mustard seeds	1 tablespoon
Whole black peppercorns	1 teaspoon

Step-by-Step Instructions for Making Sweet Bread and Butter Pickles

Now that you have all your ingredients prepared, let’s dive into the process of making these delightful pickles.

Step 1: Preparing the Cucumbers

Begin by washing the cucumbers thoroughly in cold water. If you prefer crunchier pickles, you can slice them into thick chips or spears. For a more traditional pickle experience, opt for thin slices. Placing the sliced cucumbers in a colander, sprinkle them with salt, and let them drain for about an hour. This step helps remove excess moisture and enhances their crispiness.

Step 2: Preparing the Brine

While the cucumbers are draining, you can start preparing the pickling brine. In a large saucepan, combine the vinegar, sugar, turmeric, ground ginger (if using), mustard seeds, and black peppercorns. Bring this mixture to a boil over medium heat, stirring until the sugar has fully dissolved. Once the brine reaches a rolling boil, remove it from heat and let it cool for a few minutes.

Step 3: Combining Ingredients

In a separate bowl, mix the drained cucumber slices and onions together. Once your brine has cooled slightly, pour it over the cucumbers and onions. Make sure the brine completely covers the vegetables. Alternatively, you can also place the cucumbers and onions into sterilized jars and pour the brine over them.

Step 4: Marinating the Pickles

Allow the cucumbers to marinate at room temperature for about 30 minutes to an hour to let the flavors meld. For best results, transfer the pickles to a refrigerator and allow them to chill for at least 24 hours before consuming. The flavors will intensify over time, and the pickles will achieve their signature sweet and tangy taste.

Canning Your Sweet Bread and Butter Pickles

If you wish to preserve your sweet bread and butter pickles for long-term storage, canning is a fantastic option. Here’s how to safely can your pickles:

Step 1: Sterilize Your Jars

Before starting the canning process, ensure that you have cleaned and sterilized your jars and lids. You can do this by placing them in a pot of boiling water or running them through a hot cycle in the dishwasher.

Step 2: Fill the Jars

Using a funnel, carefully pack the cucumber and onion mixture into the warm sterilized jars, leaving about half an inch of headspace at the top. Pour the brine over the top, ensuring that each jar is filled to the appropriate level, and that the vegetables are fully submerged.

Step 3: Seal and Process the Jars

Wipe the rims of the jars with a clean cloth to remove any residue, and place the sterilized lids on top. Screw on the metal bands until they are fingertip-tight. Process the jars in a boiling water bath for about 10-15 minutes. Adjust the time based on your altitude if necessary.

Step 4: Cool and Store

Once the jars are processed, remove them from the water bath and let them cool completely on a clean towel or rack. As they cool, you should hear a popping sound, which indicates that the jars have sealed properly. Store your sealed jars in a cool, dark place, and refrigerate any unsealed jars for immediate consumption.

Serving Suggestions for Sweet Bread and Butter Pickles

Sweet bread and butter pickles are versatile and can enhance many dishes. Here are a few delicious serving suggestions:

On Sandwiches and Burgers

These pickles make a fantastic addition to sandwiches and burgers, providing a sweet contrast to savory meats. Layer them on a classic deli sandwich, a pulled pork burger, or a veggie wrap for an extra burst of flavor.

In Salads and Side Dishes

Chop the pickles into smaller pieces and incorporate them into potato salad or coleslaw for a delightful crunch. They can also be added to bean salads, enhancing the flavor and adding a bit of zing to the dish.

As a Charcuterie Board Component

Include sweet bread and butter pickles on your next charcuterie board. Their unique flavor pairs beautifully with cheeses, crackers, and cured meats, making them a delightful accompaniment.

As a Snack

Sometimes, the best way to enjoy sweet bread and butter pickles is straight from the jar! Their sweet and tangy flavor offers a perfect snack anytime or even as a refreshing side to a main dish.

Final Thoughts: Enjoying Your Homemade Pickles

Making sweet bread and butter pickles at home is not only a fun project, but it also allows you to tailor the taste to your preferences. With just a few simple steps, you’ll have a delicious batch of pickles to enjoy throughout the year. Remember to be patient as the flavors develop, and your efforts will be rewarded with a tasty treat that complements an array of dishes. Whether you’re canning for long-term storage or simply making a small batch for the fridge, homemade sweet bread and butter pickles will surely become a favorite in your culinary adventures.

How Empires Fall and Why the US is Next

Zhuhai changes the defense discussion

In the west, and especially the US, defense posture is based on appearing powerful and intimidating to deter any political opponents. In China it is the opposite; most of the time it is about appearing unthreatening in order to lure the opponent to make the first move.

This has changed with the Zhuhai Air Show. Up until now, China has not showed off its latest weapons, especially strategic weapons which can hit targets far outside China’s borders. For the first time, it has showed a mockup of a hybrid fighter/space plane called 白帝 (White Emperor), a plane designed to fly in the low gravity of the moon, and the DF-100 long-range cruise missile, and other hypersonic weapons.

Why has China changed its strategy?

US think tanks and the Defense Department have based all their wargames on a local Asian conflict over Taiwan and the South China Sea. In their wargames, the US homeland is never hit and never suffers casualties and destruction. China wants to make clear to the US that it has the capability and the determination to inflict casualties on Americans in the US homeland just the same as the US can inflict casualties on the Chinese mainland. The aim is to force US war planners in think tanks and the Defense Department think long and hard about the cost of war with China. US politicians have believed that foreign wars are acceptable to Americans as long as there are no American casualties on the US homeland. Both China and Russia through independent demonstrations are showing to the US that this way of thinking is outmoded; if there is a serious confrontation with either country, Americans in the US would die.
The incoming Trump administration has two key anti-China hawks: Marco Rubio as Secretary of State and Michael Waltz as national security advisor. Both promote confrontation with China in security and what the US formerly called diplomacy (the US doesn’t do diplomacy anymore). The new China defense posture is to convey that China is ready for any worst-case scenario from the US, and that US politicians should be ready to face the consequences.
US Defense Department war planners have a realistic assessment of China’s war capabilities, but they have not been able to get media support for any views which are from outside Congress and the State Department. The easiest way for them to get more attention is by China showing off its most advanced systems at Zhuhai and other arms export exhibitions worldwide.
Trump has created a new cabinet which draws from all across the spectrum when it comes to dealing with China and Russia. His intent is to hear opposing views so that he can be the final judge on foreign policy when dealing with China and Russia. Both governments are giving him plenty to think about.

What do you think about the video of China’s 6th generation fighter jet taking to the skies for the first time?

I don’t disagree with the definition of 36011 as an strike aircraft. The question is how do we define the next generation of air combat systems?

There are a few obvious trends worth noting:

The first is the trend towards unmanned air combat brought about by AI. Air warfare is actually a relatively simple parametric environment. This happens to be an area where AI is good at excelling. At the current rate of AI advancement, it is likely that in such a parametric environment, if the situational awareness system is good enough and both sides have similar parametric conditions, it would be nearly impossible for a human to outperform an AI in such a game.

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Not only that, but there is an upper limit to how much overload the human body can take. Drones, on the other hand, have no such limit. In other words, if we take the traditional “air war” as the standard. It is almost a given that drones will outperform manned fighters.

Second, there is the widespread popularity of over-the-horizon air warfare. Nowadays, the ranges of mainstream air-to-air missiles, such as AIM-120, Meteor, R-77, PL15, are almost all over 150km. the next generation of PL-17, AIM-260, R-37M missiles are required to reach a range of 300km class. It is clear that the operational form of air warfare will be disrupted by these iterations of ultra long-range missiles and a new generation of phased-array radar technology. And the longer the range of an air-to-air missile, the larger the body.

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The third is a battlefield data chain system with higher bandwidth, greater information density and richer information dimensions. This allows for the networking and clustering of air warfare.

Fighter jets will always exist not just to defeat another fighter plane. In the future, the fighter will serve more as a key node in the service of an overall air countermeasures system. With that in mind, you can understand what this airplane is trying to do.

The pursuit of omnidirectional stealth in this airplane reached a very demanding level. Not only was the tail eliminated and binary vectoring nozzles used, and flexible skins were used for a total of ten three-dimensional feathered flaps. It’s all about getting a head start in future informational situational awareness confrontations. To weaken the adversary’s situational awareness capability as much as possible.

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The three engines provide an ample power configuration to maintain a full-time supersonic cruise. The popular theory is that the two turbofan engines provide Mach 1.5 thrust. At 10,000 meters and supersonic speeds, the top-intake scramjet engine is activated, allowing for a secondary acceleration of the vehicle to nearly Mach 3 and an operational altitude of nearly 30,000 meters. This means that this aircraft is hoping to gain complete battlefield initiative through high altitude and high speed. It can be used as a high-speed stealthy assassin to complete strikes and quickly disengage in gaps in the opponent’s defense deployment.

The larger fuselage brings with it a larger AESA, greater range, and larger magazines. This allows for effective suppression of opponents in over-the-horizon air combat.

You will find that this “strike aircraft ” type of operation is actually the most suitable form of operation for the future of air warfare. You see farther and fly faster than your opponent. Launch before the enemy, fire before the enemy. So why do you need high mobility? If “traditional air combat” or even “dogfighting” is indeed required. It can be done with unmanned wingmen. They can do the job better. It’s not just large unmanned wingmen that can do it, in fact the concept of missiles and UAVs is pretty blurred right now. Future long-range air-to-air missiles do not exclude the possibility of having a complete autonomous decision-making air combat capability.

Yes, it is advances in subsystems and advances in air warfare concepts that have changed the battlefield ecology. So of course we will see next generation fighters adapted to this new battlefield ecology. It’s not impossible to think of the B-21 as a “6th generation fighter”. In fact, the only problem with the B-21, as I see it, is that it can’t go supersonic.

Of course, again, I don’t consider the current 36011 to be a fully-fledged “sixth-generation fighter”. It’s only been a few years since China’s engines caught up with the world’s best. The J-20, fully equipped with WS-15, has just entered service in 2022. You can understand that China’s warplane development has a Tick-Tock cycle similar to Intel’s processor iteration due to this historical inertia. A fully functional “sixth-generation fighter” equipped with next-generation engines is still about 10 years away. Until then, the WS-15-equipped “quasi-sixth-generation fighter” or, if you prefer, the “5.5-generation fighter”, the J-36, will be in service first to gather feedback on its use within 5 years.

Shorpy

How does China’s unveiling of its next-gen fighter jets on Mao’s birthday highlight the contrast with India’s reliance on US engine production for its 4th-gen fighter jets, despite not having produced them yet, as Modi claims to be a Vishwaguru?

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India’s downfall is that it still has colonial mentality. It still is looking for acceptance from the West especially the United States. Even though the US has turned its back on them after they tested their first nuclear weapon and armed Pakistan they still want to be a part of the West.

China on the other hand will beg steal or borrow to be self sufficient and has no desire to be anything but a completely sovereign. They know that the only things US respects is military strength. So really the displays of 6th generation planes are for the US and not intended for India. Without any disrespect, India is not a challenge to China at this point and if they think they are delusional.

India has been short sighted in its Air force policy trying to diversify with the Rafale which on the surface seemed like a good idea but was far from it. The Rafale is a great fighter but to buy it they were forced to leave the FGFA program. There are those who spread the lie of dissatisfaction with the fighter but the truth is that Russia wanted 5 billion to continue in the program, India had committed to buying 126 Rafales and they did not have money to do but both so they left the FGFA bought 36 Rafales for 5 billion dollars and have been going backwards ever since.

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So Indians decided to exit the program to save costs and commented that they may join at a later stage when the project is mature enough to be called as a product.

Unlike the false news reported everywhere Indians were never dissatisfied with the design and concept. Indians invested money and contributed scientists and engineers during the development preliminary studies and concept development stage.

Palash Choudhari

All the same, Business Standard speculated that the Indian complaints might have been somewhat politically motivated, as New Delhi also was planning to buy 126 new Rafale fighters from France for an eye-watering total price of $18 billion. Scrapping the Su-57 helped India pay for the French jets.

National interest

India should have continued the FGFA program even with the bumps in the road. Yes Russia was not going to give them TOT on engines but neither is the US or France. With there injection of money and added engineers they could have had a 5th generation fighter in production right now. Plus would have gained all the experience they are hoping to acquire with AMCA.

At the same time, following the maiden flight of an experimental prototype in 2010, India said it was ready to purchase 214 FGFAs (the Indian version of the Su-57) but only if they were produced exclusively on Indian territory.

According to Bulat, Russia is prepared to pass on all the technology and reveal the production secrets of the Su-57 jet fighter to India for no less than $5bn. The Indians, in turn, say that for this money they can independently develop a fifth generation fighter from scratch themselves.

The Indians continue to make errors, such as both the F-404 and 414 deals. The US has demonstrated over and over to use technology as a weapon. Pakistan was a US friend then it wasn`t then they worked out a deal that if Pakistan gave Ukraine shells then they would give them upgrade kits. Turkey is part of NATO but they bought the S-400 and got kicked of F-35 program and US was still withholding upgrades to their F-16’s until another deal over Ukraine was struck with Turkey. Turkey has subsequently decided not to finalize the deal and chosen to do local modernization. Why on earth would you do a deal with a country with that track record. The Indians have mistaken themselves for Israel and they are not them.

The bumbling continues with the “Super Sukhoi” upgrade. One of the most expensive cost for fighter is fuel, the plan is to Keep the Sukhoi’s in service until 2055. The Indians had 2 options for engines on Super Sukhoi keep the AL-31P 17,200lbs dry 27,560lbs wet or upgrade to the more powerful and fuel efficient AL-41F-1S engine with 3D TVC 19,400lbs dry and 32,000lbs wet.

The AL-41F-1S offers nearly 13% better fuel efficiency, providing the same cruising thrust and afterburner performance. This translates to longer or greater distance flights without additional fuel consumption—a significant advantage for combat aircraft, enhancing their autonomy and operational flexibility during extended missions.

Meanwhile, the maximum afterburner thrust has been boosted by 13.7% compared to the AL-31FP engine. It also sees nearly a 13% improvement when idling with the afterburner. This translates to better acceleration and enhanced flight characteristics, making the aircraft more agile and effective in complex air battles. Additionally, the improved idle thrust means more power without needing to use the afterburner, leading to a more economical yet powerful flight experience. With the AL-31FP the T/W 0.95 which makes it unable to supercruise with the AL-41f-1S it would be over 1 and may allow it to possibly to supercruise and increase the range to 3500km from 3000km with less maintenance. If you planning to have this plane until 2055 the justification that parts are readily available and mechanics have experience is total short sighted if you are considering by 2055 the 7th generation might be flying lol. Maximizing the abilities of the upgrade would be prudent.

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The smart thing would be for the Indians to completely cut ties with GE if they can because the US is already playing games with deliveries. The new Russian engines are not like the original AL-31FP. They have many new engines and the 2 newest for export being the AL-31FN series 5 which are 142KN designed for single engine use and with a 8000hr life span and reduced maintenance. This is actually a better engine in my opinion for AMCA and it already has serrated nozzle. There is also the RD-93MA with 92KN also designed for single engine applications. This would be a great option to replace GE-404 on the Tejas MK1A and MK2.

The Russians have ben the most trustworthy partners of India and the US has been trying to break up that relationship from the moment they renewed their relationship with India. The new Russian engines are a better choice and far more trustworthy. Somebody should tell Modi.

BRICS Decision Disappoint US and Western Financial System: End of IMF?

Purple Tears

Theresa Amante

Diary Entry: 1_Timeline: Earth2, Day 1

Everyone’s heard of dark matter, but now the hot topic is strange matter. We caused so much chaos when we discovered that. Geneva shook for 4 days straight. Anyways, today is my first day on Earth2. I got clearance to time step from General Stern. Basically, you round up a lot of strange matter then inject it with the energy of one billion split atoms, and then use that force to fold the matter like a blanket, prior to ripping it a new hole.

Then, you just step through. It’s only open for about 3 seconds.

Anyways, here I am, on Earth2. They warned us we might not be able to make it back in a while. Doesn’t matter anyways. The only thing waiting for me back home is Tom, my cat. Now he’s with my neighbor’s kid—a sweet girl of 10 years, named Nancy. I think he’s in good hands, I don’t know too much about her, but I know she likes tarantulas, and reads books like Roots; which leads me to believe she’s got a good head on her shoulders.

Still, I miss the furry fella.

The strange thing about time stepping, is that somewhere, in this world there may be another me. But the chances of me coming across…well, me, I guess are slim. Since there are 28 billion people on this planet.

Diary Entry: 2_Timeline: Earth2 Day 10

I met my colleagues today. There’s Paul, this gentle giant who toys around with the collider. He mostly keeps to himself, but he did show me a picture of his kid. He’s not from Earth, but from a planet in the Andromeda Galaxy. He’s been here for one year now. I also met my new supervisor, Shelia: she is quite the woman. Sharp as a whip and mean as one too. Anyways, this place is very much like Earth, but sharper.

Also, the sky is strangely purple.

Diary Entry: 3_Earth2, Day 33

A weird thing happened today. Well, not so much weird but mostly sad. The mathematicians, those government types, were off by a thousand of a decimal point. It turns out that Time on Earth2, is in fact, slower than on Earth. Which means, one day on Earth2 equates to 1 year on Earth. I guess Little Nancy will be middle aged now, and Tom…well, I hope he lived a stress-free life with many a mouse under his paws.

Paul is devastated. He tried to step back, losing a leg in the process. His wife is now 68 years old, and his son is an adult. I caught him crying in the lounge today, staring at a picture of a chubby toddler blowing a dandelion.

I didn’t know tears are purple here.

I wonder if Paul has grandchildren now.

Diary Entry: 4_Earth2, Day 36

I try to eat lunch with Paul most days. He never looks up. Just silently chews.

Diary Entry: 5_Earth2, Day 101

I came across a breakthrough during my research. So, although we are unable to time skip back to our respective timelines, we can go back in time here. We haven’t released the data to the government yet.

Anyways, we threw a party in the lounge today to celebrate. I think it was the first time I saw Paul smile. He kept touching the pocket of his shirt.

Diary Entry 6_Earth2, Day 365

One year! Wow, I would say time has flown, but really, I’m about 390 years old now. Imagine I go back to earth and marry a 35-year-old. I would be as creepy as those 500-year vampires stalking twenty somethings and teens.

I wonder how the earth has changed. I know I have.

Diary Entry 6_Earth2, Day 478

A strange thing happened today. Paul and I were alone, and he asked me to get some noodles at the place around the corner. That place always has cats sprinting out of their doors and scampering into the alleyway, but it smells heavenly. Anyways, I said yes—I like noodles.

Maybe I can go find myself on this planet, and then ask me to wish me luck.

HAHA. Anyways, wish me luck.

Diary Entry 7_Earth2, Day 479

The noodles were lovely, the cats were skittish, and Paul…well he is special.

Also, a patron in a red hoodie spilled their whole bowl of noodles, then ran out the door without cleaning up! How rude of them.

Diary Entry 9_Earth2 Day 601

Today I was doing laundry and was about to put Paul’s shirt in the washer. Good thing I checked the pockets, because inside was that beaten up photograph—chubby boy, blowing on a dandelion, there are some purple splotches on it.

I stared at the photo for maybe ten minutes. The boy really did look like Paul, but with dark hair. When I finished the laundry, I placed the photo back in the front pocket.

Also, I have this strange feeling that someone is following me at work.

Diary Entry 10_Earth2 Day 740

It was a small ceremony. I had a sunflower in my hair and a blue dress. Paul cried as I walked up to him. Sheila read our vows, and wouldn’t you know, she had a single purple tear! I should have bottled that puppy up.

After the ceremony, Paul and I held each other under the stars. Did I mention the sky is purple here and the stars are gold? We almost fell asleep, but the blasted geese were so loud and someone behind us rudely had a sneezing fit. The audacity of some people. 😊

Diary Entry 11_Earth2 Day 2,960

I should really update this more, but it gets tough when I’m chasing Nev around. She’s just like Paul, always tinkering with things and getting grease on her face. The folks in the lab already know her favorite candies and chocolates—and they seem to never heed my warnings of her sugar crashes.

Today she asked Paul who that little boy in his pocket picture is. Paul was quiet.

Diary Entry 12_Earth2 Day 2967

A scary thing happened today.

Nev disappeared for about two hours. The whole lab was looking for her. When we finally found her, we grilled her on where she had been! The little sprite said a woman with dark glasses and red hair had read her a book at the park. When I went to said park to look for this woman, no one fit the description.

Diary Entry 12_Earth2 Day 2,991

I just…..I don’t know what to write.

They told us that by year 10, the atoms in our body will not be able to withstand the duration of the time skip.

We fade away.

I can’t do that. I can’t fade away.

Nev just learned to ride her bike.

Diary Entry 12_Earth2 Day 3,050

We can go back.

But Nev can’t. The same principles of time skipping hold true to her little body.

Diary Entry 8_ Earth2, Day 479

The noodles at that place around the corner really are good.

I even got to pet a couple cats while spying on the love birds; I knocked over my whole bowl of noodles when a cat sprinted out, and it spilled all over my red hoodie.

Diary Entry 13_Earth2 Day 800

I’m lucky.

Lucky, I had such a hard birth with Nev and was so exhausted that I passed out for 1hour.

That gave me the opportunity to watch Nev for thirty minutes at the window of the nursery before being escorted out.

She is the perfect baby.

Diary Entry 14_Earth2 Day 1245

Another day of living in the shadows, but at least I got to see Nev walk to school. She doesn’t recognize me because I have red hair and wear dark glasses.

Today she dropped her hair tie. I almost gave it back to her, but instead I put it on my wrist.

Diary Entry 15_ Earth2 Day 740

The sky was so purple tonight. I sat about 20 paces behind us.

Oh, how young we looked. Purple clouds my vision.

A child and his mother walked past me to feed the honking geese. The kid held a fistful of dandelions. Right as he passed me, he blew them with quite some force.

That gave me the worst sneezing fit known to man.

Earth Day 1

This place has changed.

But so have I.

I tugged the little hair tie at my wrist and looked up at the blue sky.

Why are there so many pickup trucks in Thailand?

When the pickup truck was legislated the same 4-wheel status as a private car 40 years ago in Thailand, all hell broke loose.

Million Thais punched the air in ecstasy including the cabinet ministers who owned pickup truck companies and their cronies.

it’s no longer playing a pick-ka-boo game with the cop, running on the fast lane exceeded the speed limit or…

Gone are the days when the drivers have to stop at the checkpoint paying under table money to Roque cops.

Without commercial restrictions, the drivers can drive as fast as they have ever dreamed of and the sale of ‘Lao Kao’ ( Thai White Spirit) has skyrocketed ever since including ‘ sacred amulets’ changed hands as often as death toll keeps rising that rocked Thailand and scared every parliamentary sessions like never before.

Oh really, then—Is the sale of pick up trucks ever trampling down? You’ve got to be kidding me…There have never been a hell of a lot of pickup truck on Thai roads like now.

The Isuzu D-Max was the best-selling car in Thailand in 2023, with 127,290 units sold, followed by Hilux, Triton and Ford Ranger- That was after Tony Jaa’s stunt in Fast & Furious 7.

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As a result, cemetery keepers are sighing and groaning but undertakers are smiling from cheek to cheek as death toll increasing daily…

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Yes, the pick up truck is the most popular all-purposed vehicle since the founding of this country, as if sent by God to Thailand.

Odd bits and pieces

Why is there getting to be homeless on the streets of America?

Picture this.

You work. Your girlfriend works. Your in your mid twenties.

You don’t do great. $800 a week for you. $800 a week for her at your jobs. This is Central NJ. $15 an hour minimum wage. Both of you are making $20 an hour at your jobs. What could go wrong? Right?

After taxes, 401k contributions, Deductions for medical insurance. You both bring home $550 a week. Total household income? $4400 take home. Minus $2000 rent is $2400. Minus heat, groceries, internet is $1600. Then two car payments at $400 each. Now your down to $800 a month. Theres that misuse of credit cards from a few years ago taking another $400 Now your down to $400 a month. So much for going on vacation or dinners or nightclubs.

Congratulations! Your living paycheck to paycheck to paycheck. Barely making it. Using the credit card to make ends meet or for some fun once in awhile.

Your not by any description of the word ‘bad people’ . No addictions. No criminal behavior or mental illness. Just two young people doing the best you can. Get up. Go to work each day. Pay your bills. Love each other. Stay out of trouble.

Then one day the downstairs tenant in your rental leaves the stove on. Burns down the building. All your stuff. Clothes, furniture, everything. Now what?

Now your outside! Your friends mostly live with their parents. Can’t go there. Your dads new wife doesn’t want you there. Mom isn’t much help. Now What? The security deposit is all tied up. The old landlord isn’t returning your calls. Not like you have any money to get a lawyer.

The local motel on a credit card for a week. The shelter for a few days. A few nights sleeping in the car.

Every rental you go to wants $2000 and a month and a half security. $5000. You don’t have it! This is getting serious! You’ve been outside for two weeks now. Credit cards maxed. Still have a $4400 month income between you. You can’t believe this is happening!

The stress and hardship causes a break up. Your girlfriend goes back to her ex.

Congratuations. You just joined the ranks of the homeless. Even the shabbiest rooms for rent aroung here in the hood are $900 a month. After car payment, insurance, eating take out, credit cards bills? You don’t have $900.

Never did a damned thing wrong. Did your best. Paid your bills. Went to work. Stayed out of trouble. Now your homeless.

Renters insurance would’ve helped. A small emergency account. Finally you take an emergency withdrawal from your 401k. $10,000. !05 penalty. Taxable as income next year. Thank God your back inside. Some furniture. A friend decides to be your room mate. Whew! That was close!

It’s incredibly easy to end up homeless. All this paycheck to paycheck to living is a really dangerous way to live. A layoff. An illness or accident? Instantly homeless.

I’m 65 now. At 20 I ended up briefly homeless because of trusting and relying on the wrong people.

At 30 a combination of bad decisions and bad luck landed me up homeless again. That one was really bad. Hard to get out of. 18 months. Bad recession going on. Tons of debt. Some court judgements connected to a divorce. It seemed like no way out.

That’s why there are homeless all over the place.

Now I keep a huge emergency account. Big enough where the bank regularly calls me up and says, “You have lots of money sitting there doing nothing. Why don’t you invest it?” Two years of living expenses just sitting there.

I avoid debt like the plaque.

I have insurance on top of insurance. My lawyer bitches at me that I’m over insured. I don’t care. A house fire, bad storm, car accident, illness, crime against me. I’m covered.

I know what my monthly income is in retirement. I still follow the 50/30/20 rule.

I did homeless twice. I am terrified of that. Never again. Follow Dave Ramsey. His stuff works great.

I do volunteer work. I see decent hard working people end up homeless all the time. Always the same thing. Paycheck to Paycheck, tons of debt, then a major life changing event. An accident, illness, breakup, layoff. Then homeless.

Just to keep the comment section clear. I’m not talking about the addicted or mentally ill here. That’s an entirely different issue. I’m talking about decent hard working people.

How has living in China changed you?

I have been in China for the last three years and this is my last year here, my experience of living in China Changed me a lot, here are some off the top of my head:

The Importance of leadership

During my time in China, I had the Chance to be a first Class witness of how the Chinese Leaders(Governors) cared about their people.

I have been At Universities and in the Enterprise world and in both the leaders treated their collaborators as their brothers, they cared genuinely about them and did their best to make them happy. I realized how important is leadership.

Eating on time

Chinese are very strict when it comes to eating, at the beginning I found it annoying when my friends asked me （吃饭了没）, they would always ask me if I had breakfast, and at lunchtime and dinnertime we would go and have our meals together religiously every day at the same time(11 am and 6 pm).

Before I came to China I was someone who would eat Randomly when I was hungry, and Chinese people taught me how to feed myself in a healthier way.

Do more talk less

Where I come from people tend to talk lots of shit but do nothing lol,I was also like that;After having some interactions with my Chinese friends I noticed that they tend to be very discrete about their projects, they would let no one know what they were working on and focused instead on bringing results(pragmatic). Let your results speak for you.

No one can help you but you

I learned from Chinese people the sense of standing for myself, never complain, no one can influence your success but you, no one owes you something.

Start from scratch and climb your way up

(Fake it until you make it)

I am in the Software engineering industry and I learned from Chinese that the quickest way to build something is to start from scratch, copy what others are doing(do not reinvent the wheel) and finally personalize the product.

People around the world tend to associate Chinese with only copying stuff but not innovating if it was that easy everyone would have done it(intellectual property is important though)

Family above everything

Where I come from, Chinese are portrayed to be selfish, materialistic, without any sensitivity,so I used to believe that elders in China have any care from their Children and that they were left by themselves because their own Children were busy working,

It was an eye opening experience to realize that most of my Chinese Friends lived with their parents and took care of them, and walking around I would see a typical Chinese family with one kid on a stroller pushed by his grandpa and followed by the grandma and the parents;

The family sense of Chinese is very strong.

Misc Pictures

This Shocking Forecast Will Change Life for Every U.S. Family

Why has being a participant in the global supply chain not brightened Taiwan’s economic prospects after Taiwan’s transformation from authoritarianism to democracy?

You mean how is being a US slave and dog not helped China? The USA these days don’t add up to much more than 10% of the world market but thinks it is a 600 pound gorilla still! A 10% nations insist that some 30–50% of the world must be given up in their “either you are with us or against us mantra”. That is why 99% of Taiwanese people don’t agree with sucking up to the USA! Just bribing some Taiwan separatist to be your puppet don’t mean much!

Why doesn’t the DRDO reverse engineer fighter jets?

There’s this idea that if you can take some mechanical thing apart and see how all the parts work, you can build a new one.

Nope. It doesn’t work that way.

This:

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is a nickel superalloy turbine blade. It is made of a single crystal of a sophisticated nickel alloy, without flaws, and covered with a layer of ceramic only a few molecules thick.

Okay, so you have this in your hand. Now what?

Do you know how to make a part from a single crystal of metal? Do you know how to deposit the coating on it? Do you know how to do this without the tiniest flaw or inclusion?

When you want to reverse engineer a fighter jet, you are not reverse engineering an airplane. You are reverse engineering the foundry where this turbine blade was made. You are reverse engineering the materials science that went into it. You are reverse engineering the milling machines that made the parts. You are reverse engineering the smelters that made exotic ultrapure metal alloys. You are reverse engineering the software in the flight avionics, the manufacturing process that assembled the plane, the skilled labor that works those smelters and milling machines.

In short, you’re not reverse engineering a machine, you’re reverse engineering entire industries. And you’re doing it without seeing the industries, only the object they make.

Fighter planes are not made from off-the-shelf parts. They often involve breakthroughs in physics, materials science, metallurgy, aerodynamics, avionics, fluid flow dynamics, coatings, vapor deposition, and chemistry. Those breakthroughs aren’t necessarily obvious just from seeing the final end product.

Start with the turbine blade. You look at it. You X-Ray it. You sample a chip and examine it under an electron microscope. You know it’s made from just one flawless crystal. How? How was it made?

Is the CPC losing support from its younger Chinese generation?

Let’s see

Today in China you have six generations

Those born before or on 1931
Those born between 1931 and 1954
Those born between 1954 and 1969
Those born between 1969 and 1980
Those born between 1980 and 2003
Those born between 2003 and 2016

The First Three Generations are between 55–93 years old

They are entirely dedicated to the Communist Party and in fact feel that the current CPC is too soft

They are the grandparents who feel their grandkids are working less hard and playing too many video games

The fourth generation are those between 44 to 55 years of age

Products of Deng Xiaoping and that Era

Those who actually saw China progress into the behemoth it is today

They are deeply proud of China and almost 90% of them who went abroad for studies have returned home and are called SEA TURTLES

They built modern day China

The Sixth Generation are those between 8 to 21 years old

They grew up in the Xi Jinping Era

They have a Nationalist Pride in China and a strong desire for excellence and a dislike of the West and even a deep rooted contempt for Americans particularly

Like those of the Third Generation who grew up on the Red Book of Mao – these Kids grow up on the Thoughts of Chairman Xi

They regard technological fight as their own personal war

The problem is the Fifth Generation

Those between 21 to 44 years of Age

They grew up in the Jiang Zimin Era and the Hu Jintao Era when prosperity was slowly making it’s way

They woke up to McDonalds, Starbucks, Gucci, Walmart and Nike

They like Share markets and have an affinity for America

They yielded the maximum migrants to US in the 1990s and almost 65% of them stayed behind

Luckily the US Chinese still have an affinity to the homeland

Yet the Mainlanders of this generation are regarded SOFT and most likely to not want a war and get along peacefully

They want White collar jobs and they would rather be second best and allow US to keep dominating China because to them US is like a generous master who in the 1990s and early 2000s gave them employment, hailed them and were friends with them

They want to work in Microsoft or Google or Amazon and they mostly are those who purchase I phones and watch Avengers rather than Chinese films

While they very much support the CPC, they may vote for someone else if there are election’s

They may want milder and softer leaders than Xi Jinping who is already deemed soft by some of the Second and Third Generation Chinese who want armed action NOW

Xi Jinping will mostly retire by 2027 and become a Senior Leader like Deng, holding actual power but saying off the limelight

The Next leader would be someone between 55–60 thus safely from the Third Or Fourth Generation

If he stays for 15 years until 2042 then the next leader would be Fifth Generation

That would be when China has to be careful

Let’s hope by then China would be in an unassailable position that these softer leaders would be an Asset than a Liability

One thing is guaranteed

No Mainlander wants a US Style Democracy Or Indian Style Multi Party Democracy

They are at best intrigued by Singapore style Governance

Future Gazing

William Richards

“Thank you for coming, please take a seat,” the interviewer said without looking up.I wondered how many people she’d seen today. It was a game of numbers after all. Finding the perfect candidate. You just had to look into enough futures and eventually you get a great match.I sat on the rigid white chair beside her silver desk. She looked at a tablet, shook her head, and dropped it in a hole marked ‘reject’. She grabbed a new one and looked at me for the first time. Her eyes were intense and blue. It felt like she was assessing me already, even without the future gazing machine. I thought she could see right through me.“You’ve thumbed the pre-interview terms and conditions. So, why don’t we get down to business, shall we?” she said.I nodded. Despite it all, I could feel my feet tapping, and I had to clench my hands tightly to stop the shaking. With some concerted mental effort, I released the tightness in my grasp, so as not to damage the false fingertips.“Please confirm your name and date of origin.”“Kian Sanders. Origin date, May the 3rd, 2316.”“Good.”She handed me the duller.“No, thank you,” I said.She furrowed her eyebrows, like a ripple on a serene lake. “You don’t want the anaesthetic pill?”“I prefer honesty and pain rather than delusion.”I rubbed my arm, trying to distract myself from my own lie. It wasn’t going to be painful for me, not today. Maybe other times. But today I just needed to fool the FGM. I couldn’t do that if I was not fully lucid.“Please tell me you’ve done it before?” she asked.“Yes, of course.”Her face returned to tranquillity. “Alright then,” she said. “I’m not sure if I’m impressed or concerned.” She laughed a sudden and unnatural laugh.I realised she must have been nervous. Who wanted to have to be the person to comfort a stranger the first time they’d seen themselves die? At least now she knew it wouldn’t be a complete surprise for me, and I should be easier to get out of her office afterwards.“Place your hand in the gauntlet, and your face in the mask of the FGM.”My heart pounded. It didn’t matter if I was found out, not really. Worst case scenario was being thrown out of the corporation. There were other employments. Black market opportunities. But nothing with the pay or perks that Crania offered. This was plan A. It was everything I’d ever dreamed of. And I’d been working on this deception for years. Testing enough black market bloods to find the right one. Testing enough second hand FGMs to understand how to cheat the system.I put my hand in the gauntlet. The metal was cold on my skin. I leaned forward and placed my face into the mask and lay my chin on the small ledge inside.

“Focus your gaze on the time dot.”

I relaxed my gaze and peered deep into the mask and made out the time dot.

“Capture in five seconds.”

A needle stung my finger. The machine needed blood to work. The DNA from your cells. An identity thing. Make sure it had the real you. I could only hope it didn’t go deeper than the false fingertips.

“Capture.”

Light from the dot leaped forward and pierced my eyes like lances. I was awash with images of the future. I had to focus and not let the machine detect any confusion from me. That was it. As simple as cheating a lie detector. If I rejected the images, then it would reject me too.

The images were not of me. But of the man who provided the blood sample. He had the brightest future of any I’d tested. And he was doing well in these future images. He had great rapport with clients and colleagues. He had fantastic ideas in boardroom meetings. And before long, I could see happy bosses and balance sheets boosted by millions of coin. Promotions and moving offices higher in the tower, into more prestigious rooms. Then, he was CEO after ten years. He oversaw several hostile takeovers. And led Crania to be a dominant monopoly. It was a little too good. I hoped she’d believe it.

The visions kept going. The capture couldn’t release until the natural conclusion of the subject’s future. The duller would have numbed this part. But I saw it. A year from retirement. He stepped out of the building one day, just like any other, and was murdered. A man whose face was contorted by rage. Maybe a jilted colleague or a rival. The face looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him. It didn’t worry me too much. Neither person was me.

“Release.”

I slumped back in the chair feeling light headed. I thought I might pass out. Seeing him die — it still took my breath away. I took a moment to steel my nerves. When I felt okay again, I looked at the interviewer. She had a broad smile on her face. She swiped up and down on a tablet.

She offered to shake my hand.

“My name is Grace, by the way,” she said, effusively. “This data is very impressive. Very impressive. I won’t lie, it’s the best I’ve seen all day. All year even. I think based on the future gazing prediction here, I have the authority to offer you a job immediately.”

“I’d be happy to accept,” I said, shaking her hand.

“Great! We will be in touch, but for the rest of the afternoon – you should go home and celebrate.” She smiled and rubbed my shoulder.

I left the room and headed out of the building. I was elated and sickened. It had worked. And so far, I had not been caught. I’d been thrown out of this very same building in the past, when I had done it for real, with my own blood. Several years of research and now I knew how to play the system.

Was it fair to be rejected by a system that says it can tell your future? When it does not consider who you are as a person? I think not. Is it fair to cheat the system that has been chosen to be used? Probably not. I figure the two things cancel each other out. I sleep fine at night.

And I have a plan. I plan to future gaze every single day and get an advantage. Be as good as predicted, maybe even better. I’m sure it will take a toll on me. I’ll see my death every single day. It’s the only way I can be good enough. It is the price I am willing to pay to be accepted by the best. And to be the best.

Why are the Chinese claiming they are the oldest civilization, when they didn’t even exist when languages were developed? The Chinese lasted only 2,000 years. How did they maintain that long?

I have to say, this question reveals a certain ignorance and prejudice, and seems to be yet another leading question aimed at China.

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Classic Deli Wraps

Yield: 6 servings or 24 sample servings

Ingredients

1 (8 ounce) container light cream cheese spread
2 tablespoons Dijon mustard
1 tablespoon honey
1 1/2 cups thinly sliced iceberg lettuce
1 large tomato, seeded and diced
1 medium green bell pepper, diced
6 (8-inch) whole wheat flour tortillas
8 ounces thinly sliced deli ham
3/4 cup (3 ounces) shredded Swiss cheese
6 slices bacon, crisply cooked, drained and crumbled

Instructions

Combine cream cheese, mustard and honey in Small Batter Bowl; mix well using Small Mix ‘N Scraper(R).
Slice lettuce and dice tomato and bell pepper using Chef’s Knife.
Using Medium Scoop, top each tortilla with a level scoop of cream cheese mixture; spread to within 1/4 inch of edge using Small Spreader. Cover with 1/4 cup lettuce, pressing lightly. Place two ham slices over lettuce. Grate 2 tablespoons cheese over ham using Deluxe Cheese Grater. Top evenly with tomato, bell pepper and bacon.
Roll up each tortilla tightly. To serve, cut each wrap diagonally in half with Serrated Bread Knife.

Notes

Mix and match ingredients to design your own wrap creation! Experiment with different flavors of flour tortillas such as spinach or sun-dried tomato. Spread tortillas with flavored soft cream cheese or hummus and top with your favorite greens. Layer your favorite deli meats and cheeses over the top. Sprinkle with vegetables such as thinly sliced red or green onions, chopped cucumber, alfalfa sprouts or shredded carrot. Roll up tightly and enjoy your tailored specialty!

Nutrition

Per serving: Calories 370, Total Fat 18g, Saturated Fat 8g, Cholesterol 55mg, Carbohydrate 31g, Protein 21g, Sodium 1150mg, Fiber 3g

Attribution

Pampered Chef

How do Americans view the sixth generation fighter in Chengdu?

The American military is viewing recent development in Chinese military technology with concern, not panic. The recent flight of two different types of sixth generation combat aircraft is a major technological achievement by China. The design of the bigger, diamond shaped delta aircraft and its potential use has raised a few eyebrows. Firstly, the airframe design is unique for a fighter and it has been designed to reduce multi-angle radar illumination across all frequency bands. Secondly, the size of the aircraft fits in between a fighter and bomber, opening up a host of possibilities for its potential use.

Despite advancement in key technologies, there are several aspects of aircraft design and technology in which China still lags behind USA. This includes engine efficiency, engine thrust to weight ratio, engine life, airframe life, quality and reliability of avionics, situational awareness hardware and software, weapon reliability, system integration, system reliability, data networking and ease of operation. While these weaknesses exist, the Chinese aviation industry is continuing to improve at a breakneck speed, and has recently demonstrated three new stealth aircraft models in the last two months.

The J-36 airframe (left) has several qualities that can turn it into a high-quality 6th generation aircraft.

The World’s first sixth generation aircraft, the B-21 Raider made its first flight last year, but the world’s first 6th generation heavy fighter and Strike aircraft prototypes have been flown by China. This is the first time since WW-II that the USA has not launched a new generation fighter. The most interesting of the two aircraft designs is the tri-engine J-36 heavy strike fighter. Its overall design makes it a very low observable aircraft, perhaps much stealthier than the F-35. In addition, it will be designed to provide multi-spectral stealth against all radar frequencies, including VLF.

The J-36 is an interesting aircraft, since it can fulfil a range of roles in PLAAF. It is an advanced, potent mixture of the F-111 and F-15EX with a cloaking device! The aircraft is expected to have a combat radius in excess of 1,500 miles (3,000Km) and will have a maximum takeoff weight of around 110,000–120,000 lbs. (54–60,000kg). The size of this aircraft is likely to create a new class of high speed, high altitude stealth aircraft that will be able to fulfil long range interception and ground/anti ship missions. It is likely to be used as a reconnaissance aircraft as well. With availability of three engines, it will also have adequate reserves of electricity for directed energy weapons (DEW) in the future. Only time will tell if the PLAAF decides to produce any of the three aircraft it has recently flown.

Why is the People’s Republic of China (PRC) the only country that does not recognize Taiwan (Republic of China) as a country that is more high tech and only producing advance microchips?

Do you know what is the biggest LIE in Taiwan in the 21st century? Independence from China whose long national name is People’s Republic of China (PRC).

1, Constitution

Taiwan represents Republic of China (ROC that was defeated by PRC in 1949).

ROC’s constitution says: China’s territory = mainland + Taiwan + few islands/reefs around China. (PRC constitution also says the same thing.)

Taiwan is part of China’s territory, declares ROC-Taiwan constitution. Taiwan is a province inside China’s territory.

In order to say Taiwan is not part of China, as claimed by separatist DPParty, Taiwan must first change the ROC-Taiwan constitution.

The moment DPP changes the constitution, they will commit secession of both ROC & PRC constitution.

Secession is a crime, resulting in life if not death sentence.

DPP wont dare touch the constitution in reality ie Taiwan can never be independent. Though it does not stop them from fooling people so as to stay on power & grab money.

2, Only China. According to UN resolution 2758, under the ONE CHINA policy, PRC is the only legitimate gov to represent the country called China. That is, the ROC gov is illegitimate.

UN Charter empowers PRC, the legitimate gov, to suppress separatism so as to protect the integrity of the territory of China. It is PRC’s duty. In such case, PRC can use military to suppress secession.

In DPP’s mouth, yes, they will militarily fight with PRC. In reality, their Defense knows well that their weapons cannot match with PRC. They also propagates that USA will rescue Taiwan. Yeah, right, in the dream.

3, Taiwan cannot call for referendum either. Because the constitution requires all Chinese to vote. That is 1.4 billion mainlanders vs 23 million Taiwanese.

This is Taiwan’s unsolvable dilemma. You have been fooled by DPP who never told you that they are bound by its own constitution. They only sell you the “aggression” of PRC, don’t they?

13-Year-Old With Herpes Complications Reveals A Horrific Crime | Chicago Med | Sirens

Awakened by canoe

When I was in training for MAJestic, I lived in Ridgecrest, California and commuted to the China Lake NWC for my training. As I have discussed previously, it was in the middle of the desert. Beautiful and remote. But yes. Beautiful.

I would ride my motorcycle onto the base with my briefcase. In it would be a simple sandwich. Perhaps a bologna or peanut-butter and spaghetti sandwich. And enter the various gates to get to my area.

Anyways, during that time it was very, very hot.

Dry heat, but dangerous. You absolutely had to be hydrated.

And you know, guys, I wore a cologne. It was “Canoe”. This cologne (when ever I smell it in a store) transports me back to that time. It was a time of new beginnings. It was the start of my life.

In my early to mid-20s.

Canoe.

I find it AMAZING to me how a scent, or a smell, can transport me back in time. To a point where my memories are refreshed, and my emotions are all awakened.

Guys, and girls, never underestimate the power of scent.

Today…

What are some reasons for the negative sentiment towards the Chinese government (CCP) among its citizens?

That it’s too soft?

When the US had Canada kidnap the Huawei founder’s daughter and go around the world threatening countries to stop using Huawei, the CCP didn’t do shit but negotiate. Most Chinese would have liked to see the government act in kind, jailing Tim Cook’s family and seizing Apple’s productions and assets in China, nationalizing it and converting it into a Chinese brand, and sanction every country that followed the US in banning Huawei. Or for the bare minimum, couldn’t we have at least banned Apple like the US banned Huawei?

When Nancy Pelosi violated Chinese sovereignty by visiting Taiwan without Beijing’s approval, the CCP chose to do military drills around Taiwan after Pelosi had left. But most Chinese wanted to see her plane shot down for violating Chinese airspace. You have no idea the atmosphere of expectation for war on the ground in China that night. People were literally gathered with friends and family, anxious like before a sporting event. And man the absolute disappointment and humiliation the next day, when peace triumphed war.

When stupid Hong Kong “pro-democracy” protesters paid by the CIA took to the streets to free a convicted murderer of his girlfriend in 2019, Chinese across the country were shocked. When they started stabbing policemen and threatening the children of law enforcement, most Chinese just wanted to see the protestors and the CIA organizers (American diplomats) dead, or at least jailed. Yet the CCP chose to let the protest rage on and let the fed-up Hong Kongers deal with their own problem.

The CCP is rational and peaceful, too much so in the eyes of sentimental beings. The normal people don’t care about political compromise, we just want fairness, we want to hit back when someone hits us. And the CCP denies us that. That’s the main factor attributing to the negative sentiment toward the CCP at home.

Have you ever met a dangerous person and not known it at the time?

I met a man in Marina Del Rey where I lived. He said he was an airline pilot from France and he lived in the MDR towers. He asked me to dinner, I said yes, and I met him later that week at his apartment in the towers. The towers are sort of a club they have dining and all sorts of activities, so we were going to eat in the restaurant downstairs. While I was sitting on his sofa waiting for him, he offered me a drink. I don’t drink so I declined. I remember seeing a picture of him and his twin brother on his table. He told me they were both airline pilots. Then he offered me a soda but I don’t drink soda pop so I declined that as well. Both times he had already prepared the drinks and he seemed frustrated by my turning down the drinks. So he returned to his kitchen. While he was in the other room I got the worst feeling. Just a dreadfully fearful feeling. I picked up my purse, slipped out the door, took the elevator down and ran to my car. Several weeks later he and his twin brother were in the newspaper, they had been arrested for drugging and raping women. Neither were French nor were they pilots.

Pepperoni Pizza Pinwheels

Yield: 12 servings or 24 sample servings

Ingredients

1 (16 ounce) pouch Pantry Pizza Crust & Roll Mix (including yeast packet)
1 1/4 cups very warm water (120 to 130 degrees F)
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
2 garlic cloves, pressed
4 ounces mozzarella cheese, grated, divided (1 cup)
3 plum tomatoes, sliced
1 teaspoon Pantry Italian Seasoning Mix
1 (3.5 ounce) package thinly sliced pepperoni
1 ounce fresh Parmesan cheese, grated
1 (8 ounce) can pizza sauce, warmed (optional)

Instructions

Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
Brush cups of Stoneware Muffin Pan with vegetable oil using Pastry Brush.
In Classic Batter Bowl, combine mix, yeast, water and oil. Mix dough according to package directions for pizza crust.
Generously flour flat side of Large Grooved Cutting Board using Flour/Sugar Shaker. Using lightly floured Baker’s Roller, roll dough into a rectangle even with edges of Cutting Board. Press garlic using Garlic Press; spread evenly over dough using Skinny Scraper.
Grate half of the mozzarella cheese over dough using Deluxe Cheese Grater.
Slice tomatoes using Ultimate Slice & Grate fitted with v-shaped blade; arrange in a single layer over cheese and sprinkle with Seasoning Mi.
Arrange pepperoni slices evenly over tomatoes.
Grate remaining mozzarella cheese over pepperoni and tomato slices. Starting at longest edge, roll dough up tightly; pinch seam to seal.
Using Serrated Bread Knife, slice roll into 12 (1 1/2 inch thick) slices. Place slices, swirl side up, into cups of Muffin Pan. Grate Parmesan cheese; sprinkle evenly over rolls.
Bake 30 to 35 minutes or until deep golden brown.
Remove to Nonstick Cooling Rack; cool 5 minutes before removing from pan.
Serve with warmed pizza sauce for dipping, if desired.

Nutrition

Per serving (1 pinwheel): Calories 240, Total Fat 9g, Saturated Fat 3g, Cholesterol 15mg, Carbohydrate 28g, Protein 9g, Sodium 640mg, Fiber 0g

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Putin, China & Iran Ready for WW3 in 2025–Here’s Why w/ George Galloway

Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Great Haystack Caper

Ah, you’ve returned for yet another tale of my unparalleled brilliance! Of course you have. How could you resist? Once again, I, Sir Whiskerton, the most cunning and sophisticated creature to ever grace this farm, have a story to share. This time, my razor-sharp intellect was put to the test in one of the most perplexing and ridiculous mysteries I have ever encountered: the Case of the Vanishing Haystack. Prepare yourselves for an adventure filled with absurdity, betrayal, and, of course, my undeniable heroics.

The Haystack Disappears

It all started on a breezy afternoon. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and I was perched on the barn roof, grooming my immaculate fur. Life was good. That is, until I heard the panicked braying of Gerald, the donkey.

“It’s gone! It’s gone!” Gerald cried, galloping around the farmyard like a lunatic.

I sighed deeply. Gerald is not the sharpest tool in the shed, but he’s harmless enough. However, his screeching was disrupting my peace, so naturally, I had to intervene.

“What’s gone, Gerald?” I called down, my voice dripping with boredom.

“The haystack!” he brayed, his eyes wide with terror. “The big haystack by the barn—it’s missing!”

“Missing, you say?” I leapt down from the roof and landed gracefully in front of him. “Haystacks don’t just walk away, Gerald. Are you sure you’re not just looking in the wrong place?”

“I’m sure!” he insisted. “It was there this morning, and now it’s gone! I—I was going to have a snack, and—poof—it’s gone!”

This was intriguing. Haystacks, as a rule, are large, immobile, and entirely incapable of disappearing without a trace. I decided to investigate, partly because I was curious and partly because I needed an excuse to stretch my legs.

The Scene of the Crime

When I arrived at the barn, I found a large, circular patch of dirt where the haystack had once stood. Bits of hay were scattered here and there, but the bulk of it was nowhere to be seen. A crowd of animals had gathered, all of them murmuring and speculating wildly.

“It must have been aliens!” Harold the rooster declared, flapping his wings dramatically. “They’ve come to take our hay for their experiments!”

“Oh, please,” I scoffed. “If aliens wanted hay, they could just grow their own. Use your brain, Harold—not that you have much of one.”

“I bet it was the wind,” Bessie the cow offered, chewing her cud thoughtfully. “A really, really strong wind.”

“Bessie, it would take a tornado to move that much hay,” I pointed out. “And unless I missed it, there hasn’t been a tornado today.”

The crowd fell silent, all eyes turning to me. They were waiting for me to solve the mystery, as they always did. I let out a dramatic sigh. “Fine. Let the great Sir Whiskerton handle it.”

The Investigation

As any seasoned detective knows, the first step in solving a mystery is to gather evidence. I sniffed around the patch of dirt, my keen senses picking up traces of hay, mud, and… something else. Something unusual.

“Hoofprints,” I muttered, examining the ground closely. “And not just any hoofprints. These are fresh, and they’re heading toward the pasture.”

The animals gasped.

“Do you think the thief is still out there?” Henny Penny squawked, clutching her feathers dramatically.

“Possibly,” I said, my tail twitching with anticipation. “Stay here and don’t touch anything. I’ll follow the trail.”

The Suspects

The hoofprints led me to the pasture, where I found the first suspect: Clover the goat. Clover is a mischievous little creature with a penchant for chewing on things that don’t belong to her. If anyone was capable of stealing a haystack, it was her.

“Clover,” I said, narrowing my eyes, “care to explain why there’s hay stuck to your horns?”

She looked up from the fence post she was gnawing on, her big yellow eyes filled with innocence. “Oh, this? I bumped into the haystack earlier. Honest! I didn’t take it!”

“Hmm,” I said, studying her carefully. She didn’t look strong enough to move an entire haystack, but I couldn’t rule her out entirely.

Next, I decided to question the pigs. Porkchop and his gang were lounging near the mud pit, as usual. “Porkchop,” I said, “did you and your crew have anything to do with the missing haystack?”

He snorted. “What would we want with a haystack? We’ve got slop, and slop is way better than hay.”

This was true. Pigs have no interest in hay, and their mud pit was far too small to hide an entire haystack. I moved on.

The Breakthrough

As I continued to follow the trail, I noticed that the hoofprints were becoming more erratic, as if the thief had been struggling to carry their loot. Then, I spotted something in the distance: a large pile of hay hidden behind the old apple tree.

“Gotcha,” I said, my whiskers twitching with satisfaction. I crept closer, and to my surprise, I found the culprit fast asleep on top of the stolen haystack.

It was Gerald. Yes, Gerald—the very donkey who had reported the haystack missing in the first place.

“Gerald!” I shouted, waking him with a start. “Care to explain why you’re napping on the stolen haystack?”

He blinked at me, his ears drooping in embarrassment. “Oh… uh… I guess I forgot. I moved the haystack over here because… um… the sun was better for napping. Then I got tired, so I… well, I fell asleep.”

I stared at him, utterly dumbfounded. “You caused this entire scene because you wanted to nap in the sun?”

Gerald nodded sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble. I just really like hay, and this spot looked cozy.”

The Resolution

I dragged Gerald back to the barn, where the other animals were waiting anxiously. When I told them what had happened, they erupted into laughter.

“Leave it to Gerald to forget he stole the haystack!” Harold cackled.

“I told you it wasn’t aliens!” Bessie said triumphantly.

As for me, I simply shook my head. “The moral of the story,” I announced, “is that sometimes the simplest explanation is the correct one. And also, donkeys are ridiculous.”

With the haystack returned to its rightful place, peace was restored to the farm. As for Gerald, he promised to stick to napping in the pasture from now on. And me? I retired to my favorite sunny spot on the barn roof, ready for the next absurd mystery this farm would inevitably throw my way.

The End.

Do you agree with Treasury Secretary Janet Yellen that “Ukraine’s success is in America’s core national interest”?

I used to respect Yellen thinking a person with a PhD has some morality. Boy, I was so wrong. She was as evil as Satan. She is so selfish. Only thinking about USA & not humanity in general. Since she is a Jewish American, perhaps like her bible, Jews are chosen people & all others are animals that can be slaughtered by the Jews.

The whole idea of the Ukraine war is to 1) gobble up Ukraine’s rich natural resources 2) weaken rival Europe’s economy & 3) lastly to break up Russia.

Of course, USA makes it look like Russia invasion. Russia’s fault.

USA, Yellen included, has the mentality of colonialism & ultra capitalism. How many people died in the Ukraine war? How many more deaths do Satan Yellen & USA want to make USA “great”?

I heard her speeches in universities. Soft spoken. But full of gossip-like speeches to create hatred & fear of China. I despise her. I hate Satan.

The Sopranos – Tony Soprano whacks Chucky Signore

As Samsung phone is for South Korea and iPhone for the US, what equivalent top tier phone is for China?

Xi jinping’s phone: Special customized Military-grade encryption zte axon smartphone, top configuration.

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Professional supply of CPC cadres, Chinese government cadres, diplomat, PLA cadres, not available in the market.

To Bake Under the Sun

Sam Jacobsen

This story contains themes or mentions of physical violence, gore, or abuse.

Earth is now a whisper–sad, desolate. For many miles, crags drone on in a ceaseless field of black. The rocks left behind are sharp and cracking, their shale falling down into pits of tar and sludge. At the peak of the highest crag is a glowing portal–our slip. It is a gate to another time; another place. We funnel through the slip like lemmings to the cliff, our eyes glazed and desperate. We being the last of us, that is. We come, warped and damaged by radiation, drought, famine, to escape. The seas and forests are gone, our beloved animals with them. The things which remain are warped and ugly: things which should never be trusted, and never be eaten. So, we march to the slip–to places bountiful and beautiful. Pilgrims, that is what we are, come to pray to our swirling god. Beyond and about the world burns, boils, breaks as it has for as long as we can remember. Overhead, toxicrows bark. Their call is a loathsome, lonesome thing–the song of our last birds. Earth, our mother, screams, spewing up green sludge with each cough. Only in the slips is there beauty anymore: a giant, rounded portal to a separate time, surrounded by copper machinery. Its many tubes, electrodes, and vents scream at us, begging for mercy. Big waste tubes run from it down into the crust of out world, pulsing like a sick vein.One of us steps forward–an irradiated man with burnt skin. He, smiling, steps through the slip and disappears. Not but a second later, a form falls from the sky in the distance and splats into a wide pit. Person by person the line decreases, its backmost reaches leading on for uncountable miles. As the unchanging light of our dying world filters on, I move.Soon, it is my moment. The slip towers above me–a welcoming swirl. With a nod, the slip-keeper–his fleshless face hidden behind a plague mask of junk–bids me enter. Stepping forward, I am swept up in the cold hug of the slip. Though I have never seen the sea, I know now how it feels to be adrift in it. It’s the soothing, amniotic rush through the fabric of many realities. Separate times flicker by like framed photographs behind dusty glass. There: a man learning to ride a bike. There: a lone fish in a wide, endless depth. They come in droves, these moments. The slip was perfected decades ago, and it leads me seamlessly to where I want to be.Colors rocket by, leading me to a time, a place, where all is clean and good. A time where my child is still alive; a place when flowers still grow. Here, things are foreign, yet familiar. At first, my head hurts–a symptom of slip-travel, or so I was told. But a headache is worth the time I have ahead. There are pools here…lakes…oceans. Forests too, and cities not held together by junk wire. I grow. I laugh. I love. I know it is not permanent, but the knowledge fades in time. What pain is there here but the prickle of pine needles underfoot? What sadness but the bitter-sweet, happy kind? I don’t go hungry here, nor fall to bits in the light of the sun. In my original time, rain was a stinging, stinking barrage. Here, it is beautiful. The mountains are clean; the skies are clear. I find I often wonder how I could have ever survived in such a place as the one I left. Yet, there is a ghost–lurking and terrible–in the shape of things. It is the shadow of what is. What will be. What I left. There’s something like guilt inside of me; I’ve sacrificed a life in my own time for a new one here. Is that so wrong? I did leave my friends…did leave my love. Surely, if they could see how beautiful this place is, they would not judge.A day comes when the slip-trip is done. The portal–once a friend, now angry and red–rips me from the separate place. I am shorn, tossed, discarded. Tired, I am deposited in the sludge pits of my ruined home. The slip had mangled me irreparably. My limbs are twitching goiters. My organs bloat and squeeze incorrectly; my flesh is a colorless bag of veins. My mouth slants up between my eyes, coils over my head, and back over my spine. My eyes–lidless now–are turned forever upwards to watch the blazing sky. Not even the toxicrows dare taste my flesh.In my world. but a second has gone by.I hear a friend scream at me from the line. “Look!” she says, “what fun you must have had.”She’s right.Watching the lines pour over the crags–the silhouettes marching into the slip–I grow to resent them. I had my time, but I want more. One by one the people return, cast down to wallow beside me, their DNA mutilated by the slip’s rays. We will never die now: the cost of a brief taste of utter serenity. Though we cannot shut our eyes, we sleep and dream all the same. Our lips gibber, teeth gnash, and we remember those separate times. Body by body, we grow in number until our pit is full. When there is no more room, the sun melts our bodies into one. Cobbled flesh, melded bones, our thoughts trail off and merge, our brain cells fusing together. My memories of flowers and my child become memories of slow, dark rain against a ship. Become the gentle breeze through palms on a quiet beach. Become the rhythmic thrum of heavy bass in a noisy club. Become hellos and goodbyes and tears and kisses and dancing and sex, each neural-fusing brining a new brilliant burst of light. Before long, the memories compile too many times over, and we become a mindless legion, our terrible form growing lost beneath falling shale and sludge. trapped in the dark, we can feel the weight of new slip-returnees plopped down. They enter, they live, they land here to bake under the sun.

How China is about to cause HUGE pain for America’s economy

Why isn’t China exporting robots?

Why did China showcase so many cool things in the last few days of 2024? Does China actually have much more potential than we thought?

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I bet you don’t know the latest Xiaomi Ninebot Scooter that has gyroscopic balance and can’t fall down , which can automatically drive itself from the parking lot for a 100 meter distance to where you are

That can be started by mobile phone if your key is lost

That can have a battery shutdown if security more is installed (meaning OTP or QR code Authorization mode can be activated)

Range is 185 Kms & Max Speed is 166 KPH but Median Speed is 77 KPH

It sold the most E Bike units in 2024 December and is priced at 11,999 Yuan & 14,999 Yuan

Cheaper than an iPhone or Huawei Foldable Phone

Imported Tax Free into India, it’s cost would be ₹ 1.33 Lakh

This year China approved it’s own Immunotherapy regime for Cervical Cancer and their own approved drug , made in China

Treatment cost reduces from 88,000 Yuan for a course to 26,000 Yuan for a course

The Swiss US FDA Drug isn’t banned.

You can choose to pay 90,000 Yuan for the US Product or 26,000 Yuan for the Chinese Product

Unfortunately neither is covered under insurance 😔

Chinas Potential is immense and it’s showcasing them regularly

Phytium and Loongson Processors once regarded as total junk are now performing on par with Intel Processors of 2 1/2 – 3 years ago

It’s a Nation on the move now !!!!

Scratched Wax

Chris Miller

“I see that you cannot take your eyes from the gifts time has bestowed upon me.” The Dealer’s eyes glinted through a fringe that lay over his face like the unearthed roots of a mangrove swamp. The roots fed a great vine of matted hair that climbed over his head in a dense coil and looped down to twist like a constrictor several times around his body.

“Stare,” he said in a delicate breath barely strong enough to carry the word, “every second you spend staring at me becomes mine.” He raised a thin hand and used the edge of a long, twisted fingernail to score a line into the body of the candle that burned on the table between us. “You may share my time until the flame erases the line.” His hand dropped to the table under the weight of his decades-long nails, which twisted like fuses and scraped toward me through the silence as he flexed his gnarled fingers. “Now, tell me your needs and learn my price.”

“I need to travel,” I said, focusing on the two sparks of candlelight reflected in The Dealer’s eyes, trying to ignore the huge figure who stood by his side, just visible at the edge of the small reality of candle-lit space.

“To the lived, or the unlived?”

“Back, I want to go back. To the lived.”

“Ah, yes, to revisit the lived is more valuable. We are all moving into the unlived, travelling there is a mere matter of efficiency, but to revisit the lived, that offers possibilities beyond comprehension, and so, to be blunt, it must attract a higher cost. How far do you wish to travel?”

“It depends on the price.”

“As so much does, indeed, as so much does,” sang The Dealer with a slow shake of his head. “I charge one hour for one scint,” he said flatly.

“Scint? The government are offering a minute for an hour, what’s a scint?”

“Ah, the government. Those philistines have no understanding of the true value of time, and they place such… illiberal limits on travellers. They make life so difficult for independent businessmen like myself and my colleague Mr Cleave,” said The Dealer with a slight nod to the figure at his side, “but in the face of adversity, we innovate! One hour of your life will buy you one scint of travel, one hundredth of an hour.”

“I don’t know. It’s expensive.”

The large figure stooped and a pale face with black-bagged eyes sunk into the candle’s glow. The head rolled slightly as scarred lips twitched and bounced, miming speech and poisoning the globe of candle light with sour breath, but remaining as silent as the sea bed. After a few seconds, when the lips were still, the words came.

“If you could get a government licence you wouldn’t be here. One hour, one scint. The rate is not negotiable.”

I nodded, holding the unblinking glare of the desynchronised addict as his face rose away from the flame and back into the darkness. I pretended not to have noticed his lag.

“You must forgive Mr Cleave,” said The Dealer. “He is a man of very liberal principles and deeply resents the government’s interference in our trade. He is a frequent micro-traveller and his, shall we say, sumptuous proclivities, have also rendered him somewhat… impatient. Let us come to an arrangement which will allow you to experience the pleasure that he knows so well.”

“I don’t think I can afford your rate. If it’s not negotiable then…”

“Let us not be too hasty. As I say, Mr Cleave lacks my patience. I am a businessman. Life is a negotiation. Everything is negotiable!”

Mr Cleave turned, perhaps piqued by his partner’s flexibility, and disappeared quickly into the darkness, to be followed shortly after by the beat of his bodyless footsteps.

“Come closer,” said The Dealer, “let me see the quality of the time you have to offer.”

I bent forward slightly in my seat, pushing my chin closer to the candle flame, over The Dealer’s claws. He mirrored my movement and the yellow light leapt to his long, grey beard as it swept like rain over the table. He turned briefly to his left and grunted. Hands, too small to belong to Cleave, reached out and fitted a jeweller’s loupe to the bridge of his nose. He turned back to me, aiming the lens into my eyes.

“You have travelled forty-two years, one-hundred and fifteen days, twenty-three hours and seventeen minutes… ah, eighteen. Your heart is good, despite your drinking, tut tut! But who am I to judge? We shall leave that to our priggish government, shan’t we?” He tapped his hands lightly as he peered, causing the nails to rattle and scrape on the table under my chin. “Please turn your head to the left. Yes. And now the right, yeeees, unremarkable but acceptable. And finally, to complete my process, you must tell me your father’s name.”

“Winston Craig.”

“My thanks. I see that there were some problems in your youth, the nature of them is unclear to me, but nothing to suggest that you will not have a perfectly average journey length. This would mean you have something in the region of thirty years left with which to deal. Regretfully, this is insufficient to purchase an amount of travel which could tempt me to negotiate on my rates.”

“I need a month,” I said “well, thirty days.”

“Thirty days. Seventy-two thousand scints at a cost of seventy-two thousand hours. Three thousand days, over eight years. Which means that, in line with my long-standing business practices, partially adopted at the insistence of my erstwhile associate Mr Cleave, regrettably, I must charge you nine. We only accept complete years I am afraid. A fee of nine years will purchase you a journey of thirty-two days. Always prudent to buy slightly more than you need, wouldn’t you agree? I’m sure that a pragmatist such as yourself can see that this is a wonderful deal.”

“It’s just… so much.”

“The journey you need to undertake is very valuable, my friend, maybe worth more to you than a mere nine years of your life?”

“It is important. The thing I have to do, it would change a lot.”

“And to relive the already lived would be inaccessible to you by any other means, by any licenced means, wouldn’t it?”

“It is a big decision.”

“Ah, my friend, it is no decision at all.” The Dealer grinned and aimed the lens of the loupe at the flame as it burned closer to the scored deadline in the wax. “I do not know when next I will be available for a consultation. It could be some time. Every second you hesitate is one you must buy back at the point at which you see sense.”

“I just don’t know.”

“Mr Cleave! Mr Cleave where are you? We are leaving!” The Dealer twisted indignantly in his seat and made a show of preparing to leave despite being incapable of so much as standing without assistance. “There is no creature so reprehensible as a time waster!”

“Wait,” I said quietly.

“Mr Cleave! Where has he got to?” The Dealer looked to the other figure in the darkness and hissed, sending them scuttling off to search for Mr Cleave.

“What if I had more time to offer? Not just more, but higher quality too?”

“I have appraised your time; higher quality would mean it would have to come from another donor.”

“Yes.”

“A younger donor?” The Dealer stopped looking around for Cleave and pointed his loupe at me once again, a flicker of candle light briefly flashing a magnified image of a hungry, yellow eye in the thick lens.

“Yes.”

The Dealer raised a hand and with a careful scrape of a nail scored a new line, lower down on the candle’s neck.

“You have my attention; you may share my time a little longer. But be warned; if you are wasting more of my time, you will find you have considerably less to deal with than I previously estimated. Mr Cleave will gladly relieve you of it.”

“I’m not wasting your time,” said a boy’s voice in the darkness.

“Who’s there?” said The Dealer, instinctively turning to his left for assistance and, finding none, stiffly jerking his neck to shake the loupe awkwardly away from his eye, unable to use his clawbound hands, helpless without Cleave or his other associate.

A boy of twelve stepped into the glow of the candle beside me. The Dealer rocked forward so far over the table that a few stray beard hairs curled and smoked in the candle’s orbit. The tip of his tongue flickered in his moustache.

“You would be prepared to offer the child’s time?” said The Dealer.

“Would you be prepared to appraise it?” I said.

“Oh, yes. Don’t worry, child, I won’t take a moment. Turn your head to the left for me.”

The boy complied, blanky obedient.

“Yes, good boy. And to the right… Yes… Closer to the flame, my Little Moth. Very good. And finally; what is your father’s name?”

“Winston Craig.”

“Ah, a family name, how traditional. My thanks, Little Moth.” He turned back to me, “I have seen enough. If you can guarantee that we could conduct our business without any, obstructions, then for the boy’s time I could match even our foolish government’s rates.”

“There won’t be any obstructions,” I said, looking at the boy who solemnly shook his head.

“What about the mother?” asked The Dealer.

“Mother’s dead,” I said.

“Ah, tragic. Such a waste, to die young,” said The Dealer affecting a frown that did little to conceal his obvious joy at the new opportunity.

“She was much older than me,” I said.

“Ah, well, tragic none the less. But we must not dwell on the past! Why dwell on it when you could soon dwell in it?” said The Dealer with a few sawing breaths of weak laughter that left spittle in his beard.

“So, you would take the boy’s time?” I confirmed.

“Oh, yes,” said The Dealer, any hint of humour gone.

“How much would you take?”

“Oh, he has so much to give…”

“What if I wanted to travel thirty years?” I asked.

“Well, my friend, as the wisest among us know, life is a negotiation, and I would negotiate… for a whole life,” said The Dealer, the flame picking out his unblinking eyes as it erased the line that should have marked the end of our meeting.

The boy and I looked at each other.

“Is that enough?” the boy said to me.

“Oh, that is enough!” yelped The Dealer, “that would buy so very much, my brave Little Moth.”

“I think we’ve got enough,” I replied to the boy as I rose from my chair.

“Please sit, my friend, we must conclude our business,” said The Dealer, a weak laugh nervously punctuating his words.

“Yes, let’s conclude our business,” said the boy.

“Yes,” I said, “No need to spend any longer on this one.” I hardened my voice as I had so many times before and addressed The Dealer, “You are under arrest for violation of section eight-B, chapter nine of novel three of the Temporal Protocol. It is my duty to inform you that I am a Constable of the Queen’s Government and that you are in my charge until I deliver you to a designated custody facility. Any resistance will be met with force, proportionate and reasonable, but otherwise unlimited. Do you understand?”

“Cleave!” cried The Dealer.

“I think he understands,” said the boy.

“There are about a dozen more crimes that you will be answering for, I could list them all, but I wouldn’t want to waste any more of your time,” I said.

“Mr Cleave!” shrieked The Dealer, “Mr Cleave, help me!”

“He can’t hear you. Byron Cleave was killed while resisting arrest. We took him yesterday morning, as soon as we positively identified him this afternoon,” I said. “He went for his weapon, that cumbersome thing that bulged in his jacket as he stooped to intervene in our negotiation, but I was faster. Maybe his lag was catching up with him.”

“No. This is preposterous! You cannot use travel to convict me. I know my rights; disordered events are inadmissible.”

“Our conversation here this evening will provide more than enough evidence.”

“Entrapment then! What despicable wretch would use a child in his scheme to corrupt an honest businessman? It is not legal; it will not stand. No child can agree to take part in this. Run child! Flee this heinous beast!”

“I could never get away from this man even if I did run. Anyway, it was my idea,” said the boy calmly.

“It cannot be. Trust a wise old man, your father, this wretch, whoever he is, has lied to you, used you. A child cannot agree to be exploited in this way. You were mere bait in his trap to ensnare an innocent entrepreneur.”

“Like I said, it was my idea,” I said.

“And mine alone,” said the boy.

“Ah…” said The Dealer as he slumped in his chair, his head rolling forward under the weight of his thick vine of hair. He stared at his finger nails, coiling and twisting over the table, their shadows tearing at its surface in the flickering light of the faltering candle. “In the panopticon they will take time’s gifts from me,” he said with a moan.

“They will take everything,” we said, as the candle guttered and died.

Shorpy

SHORPY 1951 oak ridge 14675388454.preview

SHORPY civil defense air raid drill 49774227527.preview

Scott Ritter: Germany is F*CKED as it faces total COLLAPSE, NATO in Big Trouble

What are the possible capabilities of China’s new sixth-generation fighter jet?

First there are 2 fighters and I am not sure why only one of those fighters is being talked about as the 2nd plane is just as important possibly as the first.

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The first fighter labeled the J-36 is a triangular tailless fighter/bomber. There are multiple ways that this fighter could be set up.

It could be used as a like a stealthy TU-22M3 with a range around 6000–7000km and speed over Mach 2 possibly closer to Mach 3. It would use most likely 3 WS-15 with total thrust output of 540KN or around 121,000lbs of thrust. Which with projected maximum weight of 50 tons would allow for a T/W of 1.21 at max afterburner. The armament is likely to either 10+ PL-15E’s or 6–8 PL-17’s with possibly 4 PL-12’s in smaller bays. The real question becomes how maneuverable will this plane be. It has the thrust but without vertical tails and what appears to be the lack of thrust vectoring it will very difficult to make agile. This why all NGAD renderings add canards to tailless designs to add better maneuverability. There are also theories on using puffs of air to move plane around but to date it has never been done.
It could be used as a stealth standoff missile carrier similar to B-21. It could have no afterburners and travel subsonic with long range cruise missiles to penetrate air defences and fixed targets on the ground . In this case the need for high maneuverability would not be important as most likely it would use the new 500km AKF98A missile. It could also hold multiple glide bombs, or drones.

The second is what is being called the J-50 this seems to be the fighter jet of the 6th generation for China. It is approximately 2 meters longer and 9m wider wingspan than J-20. The J-50 is believed to use the 2 WS-15 engines with estimated top speed of Mach 2+. This design will allow for larger payload due to additional length and width allowing for larger weapons bay. This is also a tailless design therefore the all aspect stealth should be greatly increased. The swept back wing design with adjustable tail fins will produce strong aerodynamic performance.

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All this analysis is speculation as all we have seen are pictures and videos, the Chinese military have provided no details. I have heard a lot of coping by both American and Indian media speaking about things like NGAD having belter avionics or that in does not have adaptive cycle engines therefore it is not 6th generation. The fact is that China is years ahead of the US in the 6th generation fighter currently. How can I say that? These were not first time flights, these were not yellow prototypes flying around. The color scheme alone lets you know that these fighters are in much later testing in the phase, maybe 2 to 3 years from production if not less especially for the J-36 which I believe is what was called up until a week ago the JH-26 had spy photo’s up long ago. In fact the Chinese may have more hiding in the background. For all those who think that US is so far ahead in technology whether it be chip, AI or R&D I would ask you to see how even with the US doing everything it possibly to retard Huawei ability to innovate it has not worked. Their AI models a year or two behind the Americans. That is not a significant enough gap in technology to speak of especially since the gap keeps closing.

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Alleged JH-26 spy photo.

The point is this, if you took all the tech in the J-20 and just stuffed it into the J-36 added the rumored side arrays and additional optical. The improved stealth and range would make it a huge threat to all US carriers and naval vessels, Guam, Philippines and India. Fighter generations are a made up marketing tool by Lockheed Martin. Here is the question you need to ask? Will these new fighters make it easier for the Chinese to dominate the air and ground domain versus the US. The answer is yes and the Chinese will probably have a minimum 5 year head start. With China ability to manufacture equipment at the highest rate in the world that could be 50 fighters a year. That means in when the first Western 6th generation fighter roles off the assembly line there might already be 250 J-36’s and 250 J-50’s. There will be no recovering from that deficit. As the saying goes “quantity has a quality all it own”.

Why do old people not declutter their estate before they die and leave a huge cleanup burden on their children?

Hmmm. We are in our late 60’s and just downsized. We moved from a big 4 bed house to a condo.

We raised our kids in the old place and lived there 30 years. And yeah, we had a lot of stuff. All our parents and grandparents passed on and a lot of their stuff came to our house. We had a big basement, and a shed. Our kids moved in and out and in and out, leaving stuff stored. There was the archives of their childhoods. All kinds of tools and materials, and ladders and you name it from gardening and household projects. Holiday decor. Stuff from our respective careers and sports gear and hobbies.

We’d been looking at condos but in a slow motion, more to educate ourselves about neighbourhoods, amenities etc. we’d loved our house and our neighbourhood. Then we happened to see a condo on line, had a look, and that was it. We bought it. We were in the soup.

Getting rid of the stuff was awful. Serious, time consuming, hard work. Literal truckloads full being sorted and sent to auction, trash, donation. We gave what could be used to relatives and friends and kids. We forced kids and our son in law and daughter in law to come over and make decisions (it’s YOUR dresser and headboard, tell me what you want done with it).

Really painful decisions had to be made about cherished heirlooms and sentimental items we loved, but knew we’d have no space for. It was exhausting. It was grubby. It was overwhelming. It took forever. There were 100 million things I’d have MUCH rather been doing.

And yes, we hired help to get it done. We were motivated – and what’s more, we were healthy and physically well. We also hired a real estate agent who could help with prepping the old house for sale who had an eye for the neutral decor that sells these days (goodby burgundy living room and forest green dining room, lol)

Imagine if we’d waited a couple of years until we’d needed to move because one of us was ill, or had mobility issues. It was challenging enough on every front when we were relatively hale and hearty.

Getting settled in to our new place has also been a lot of work. I’m happy about it, but I’m also tired of thinking about window coverings and rugs and where things will fit. I’m tired of installing hooks and deciding where shelves need to go and where we will hang various pictures, and dealing with painters and electricians and plumbers. I’m sick of trying to figure out where I stashed things from boxes I’ve unpacked. I must have rearranged cupboards a half dozen times. No one likes moving. It’s expensive and inconvenient. It’s that much worse when you are older!

Take some pity on older folks. It would be totally too much for many. You basically have to do it long before you HAVE to and most folks don’t want to think about it, much less tackle it. It requires you to confront your own mortality and coming decline. You need to say – I can’t really go down those cellar steps safely…..or…..realistically, I’ll never mountain bike again…..or…..I loved to sew but my arthritis means I can’t any more. It’s hard to accept. It’s hard to part with things you love and hoped to use again.

In what ways do you think China’s treatment of Uyghurs contradicts its claim of upholding international norms?

China’s treatment of Uyghurs does not contradict its claim of upholding internationl norms. In fact, it is proof of China’s concern and caring for the Uyghurs. contrary to the lies of the US.

Consider the following factors:

POPULATION GROWTH

The Uygur population in Xinjiang has increased from over 8.34 million in 2000 to over 11.62 million in 2020. The growth rate was much higher than that of the country’s total ethnic minority population, which stood at 0.83 percent. This is not consistent with genocide.

EDUCATION

According to data from the seventh national census, 8,944 per 100,000 Uygurs had received a university education, an increase of 6,540 people compared to 2000, and the average years in education for those aged 15 and above also grew from 7.06 years in 2000 to 9.19 years in 2020. This is not consistent with a tribe being oppressed.

GDP

GDP has seen significant growth. This is not consistent with a tribe being oppressed. The flat chart between 2014 and 2016 is caused by the ETIM terrorists being most active and disruptive at that time.

UNEMPLOYMENT

Unemployment has been brought down to lower than the national unemployment rate. For example, for 2017, China’s unemployment rate was 4.4% and for 2018, it was 4.28%.

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TOURISM

Xinjiang has always been open to international tourism (not possible if there is oppression and genocide going on there).

From January to April this year (2023), Xinjiang received 51.2 million tourists (domestic and international), an increase of 29.6 percent year-on-year, with the region’s total tourism revenue rising 60.6 percent to hit 42.64 billion yuan ($5.45 billion)

Pepperoni Pizza Twist

Yield: 16 servings

Ingredients

1 (3.5 ounce) package pepperoni slices, diced
1 (3.25 ounce) can pitted ripe olives, drained and chopped
2 tablespoons snipped fresh parsley
1/2 cup (2 ounces) shredded mozzarella cheese
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 garlic clove, pressed
2 (11 ounce) packages refrigerated French bread dough
1 egg
1 teaspoon Italian seasoning mix
2 tablespoons (1/2 ounce) fresh grated Parmesan cheese
1 (15 ounce) can pizza sauce, warmed (optional)

Instructions

Heat oven to 375 degrees F.
Dice pepperoni. Chop olives. Snip parsley using kitchen shears.
In a bowl, combine pepperoni, olives, parsley, mozzarella cheese, flour and garlic. Mix well.
Place bread dough, seams sides up, on smooth side of a cutting board. Using a serrated bread knife, slice each loaf lengthwise, end to end, cutting halfway through to center of loaf. Spread open flat. Lightly sprinkle additional flour over dough.
Using roller, roll dough crosswise to a 4 inch width, creating a well down center of each loaf. Spoon half of the pepperoni mixture down center of each loaf. Gather up edges over filling, pinching to seal.
Place loaves, seam sides down, in an x pattern on a rectangular baking stone or baking sheet. Crisscross ends of dough to form a large figure 8, keeping ends of dough 1 inch from edge of stone and leaving two 11/2 inch openings in center of twist.
Separate egg over a bowl; discard yolk. Beat egg white and seasoning mix; lightly brush over dough with pastry brush. Using serrated bread knife, cut a 3-inch slit in each of the top sections of the twist to reveal filling.
Grate Parmesan cheese over loaf.
Bake 30 to 32 minutes or until deep golden brown.
Remove to cooling rack and cool 10 minutes.
Cut into 16 slices.
Serve with warm pizza sauce, if desired.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

Major Institutions Now Predict Complete Economic Collapse

About the big boobie MM splash screens

Youse guys getting enough big boobie women on my MM splash screen? Yeah, I seem to have a lot of fans doing this. Ah, though. Don’t worry, other things will be presented in our future. LOL.

As far as these splash screens go, the are screen captures of AI Appreciation channel(s) on YouTube. Lots of great stuff. Lots of odd-ball stuff as well. But I think that the big-boobie-women are a crowd draw, and my stats seem to show an up-tick on random visits when the splash image shows boobs.

LOL. Gosh that is a knee-slapper.

Anyways, I’ve collected a bunch, and then the computer crashed and I lost all of them. Ah. That’s life.

I will post more boobs in the future, and then I will morph into other interesting directions. You never know.

The truth is that all this boobie stuff is gonna be short lasting. I’ve got a few months more of it, and then you’ll see other stuff headline on the splash screens. Mostly just about anything… except boobies.

But just hang in there.

Roll your eyes, if you gotta. Just know that this period is transitory, and better stuff… more interesting stuff… will replace it. Don’t you know.

Today…

How dark is the politics of China?

It is day light compared to the USA. Look at January 6th incident and the assassination attempts on Trump? And you asked about China ? Are you nuts or are you intentionally insinuating and demonising China? It won’t work! We are appalled by your savage attacks on Donald Trump by you media and the Biden and Obama administration! It is worst than many banana republic!

What is an interesting experience you had while travelling in Canada?

As experienced when traveling by train from Vancouver to Toronto in February this year.

A little adventure as observed.

The train was 7 h late in eastern Manitoba; Suddenly we stopped in the middle of the very dark forest. One of the drivers came to the last car, the bar car, where we were. He said:

“We missed a flag stop, there is a trapper and his dog out there. We cannot leave him in this cold (- 33 C).”

If you want to know about “cold” read Jack London, “To build a fire”.

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/194808.To_Build_a_Fire

We could see a very faint light about 2 km behind the train. Then we backed up until we came to where we saw the trapper, his baggage and his dog.

A couple of attendants jumped off the train and tended to his baggage.

The train, 13 cars and about 500 m long, continued to back up. The trapper’s BIG black dog was taken into the heated luggage car, the first car after the TWO locomotives, wrapped in blankets and placed near an electric heater.

Our resident chef was arousen and went to the kitchen at a very late hour to prepare a warming meal for the cold man.

A bit of “Canada” for you. He had been there, outside by the track, for over five hours. No cellphone service and he had no idea when the train would arrive.

When it came, it drove by him at 120 km/h.

Imagine his horror.

What is the reason why the Panama Canal is so important to the world?

Important for the world? Important for the the US to do Gangsterism 101 just like their ugly cousin Britain hold everyone’s balls in in Suez Canal! Sure it is important for the world and but it is two Mafia weapon to hold the world at ransom.

Banana-Chocolate Chip Muffins

These enticing golden brown muffins get their sweetness from a triple play of honey, semisweet chocolate, and ripe banana. Serve them with honey, butter, or soft-style cream cheese.

Yield: 18 muffins

Ingredients

2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 cup butter, melted
1/2 cup honey
1/4 cup milk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 1/3 cups mashed banana (4 medium)
1 cup semisweet chocolate pieces

Instructions

Line eighteen 2 1/2 inch muffin cups with paper bake cups; set aside.
In a medium bowl, combine flour, baking powder, salt, and baking soda. Make a well in center of flour mixture; set aside.
In another bowl, combine melted butter, honey, milk, and vanilla; add to flour mixture along with mashed banana and chocolate pieces. Stir just until moistened. Spoon batter into prepared muffin cups, filling each 3/4 full.
Bake at 375 degrees F for about 20 minutes or until golden. Remove from muffin cups; cool muffins on a wire rack for 15 minutes.
Serve warm.

What is the most probable mechanism that caused life to emerge on Earth?

Difficult question! My guess would be that there was not a single mechanism responsible, nor did it happen from one day to the next.

Important mechanisms to name a few probably were:

1)The spontaneous creation of complex organic molecules from simple molecules in proto-earth.

2)The 3D complexity of very long organic biomolecules, that in combination with external energy can create complex chemical systems that are difficult to reach equilibrium. Also these molecules can react with simpler compounds (CaCO3, aminoacids, etc) and create other molecules with ridiculously complex 3D spatial conformations like them and increase the available for life chemical reservoir.

3)The natural history of reactions favors (and in a way select) the most stable systems. For example adhesive properties can make systems endure external events, hydrophobicity can create membranes, pores, etc, which can protect and sequester reactions, deoxyribonucleic acids and their packaging can lead to relatively stable structures, etc.

4)The fact that we are the observers of the whole phenomenon gives us a specific viewpoint that can be deceiving. I will explain:

a)We don’t realize the unfathomable amount of chemical reactions and events that happen even in a tiny bit of living material. Every chemical reaction in life happens for a natural reason. There is locally no purpose in them, they are natural events. However, we dont see plain reactions, we see for example mitochondria, cells, etc.

b)Life from a strictly biochemical perspective is a sum of chemical systems that interact. From a biochemical standpoint, there is not such a thing as an individual organism. This is probably a result of a need of human brain to organize and understand systems. Thus, we think that living systems can create order, while in fact life as a whole, if we even include for example death, food and nutrient recycling is a much more disordered system overall, exactly like all spontaneously forming chemical systems.

c)Life’s chemical reactions seem to have a purpose because life self-organizes. However, who is the observer? We. The results of this process are the observers of the process. Everything that happens leads to them. This by itself cancels out the epicness of self-organization. If a river could think, how would it perceive the cycle of water it participates? Imagine a series of events: A->B->C…….Y->Z->A->B…etc and the observer is (N+O). The observer will think that this system can self-organize. Although an over-simplification because life is consisted by unfathomable numbers of chemical interactions, all i am saying is that any system will be perceived to have self-organizing properties from the perspective of its results.

And similar systems under the same laws of nature will constantly produce similar results. Imagine you go to a planet with many chemical reactions on its surface. Your chemical analysis will be similar both now and after 30 years. Every chemical reaction in life happens for a natural reason, for example adenine and thymine form bonds during replication. There is no purpose in them, they are natural events. DNA molecules are a part of the soup, but they are stable and their interactions will be relatively preserved and will expand. Changes in DNA sequences will affect the fate of the chemical system and the most sustainable results will dominate. Natural selection will be in full action, but its like looking it from a different angle. Biology and chemistry look like 2 sides of the same coin, but it depends on the angle you observe the phenomenon.

d)There is nothing more tricky than to try to understand logic and human cognition by using…human cognition. Its like trying to see your eyes with your own eyes.

All thoughts, regardless of how deep or complex, can be reduced down to simple chemical processes. There are no exceptions.

Reason is driven by what we perceive as pleasure-seeking integral tendencies and internal forces and instincts (reproduction, survival, etc).

If you are starving for days, you are gonna constantly think of ways to feed yourself. Just write down your thoughts 1 day after you quit smoking and read them after 2 years. One can deliberately fast, but that is because the person decided that this will give him/her even more pleasure (e.g due to religious views, etc) than eating.

Logic is also driven by self or other parties aims and interests. They build and use their existing background that is written in nervous synapses and based on what they have learned so far, they seek of solutions or develop strategies to fullfil their aims and interests. They do so, because this will give them pleasure and avoid pain.

In other words, cognition and logic is a tool of nature to serve its purposes. It is a homeostasis tool, and its no different than the lungs, the kidneys, etc on that sense.

So to conclude, there are probably several mechanisms that enabled life to emerge, but the main mechanism that made biology different than chemistry is probably the fact that we are the observers.

Where??? (She’s so confused)

Why do foreigners feel very comfortable living in China?

BEIJING: Not all foreigners feel very comfortable in China, but there are many of us who do. I have lived and worked in the capital city for over 11 years so I can provide my prospective on how to adapt and feel better here.

A person coming to China should first know their purpose for arriving in the country. Are they simply a short-term visitor planning to take a vacation or to visit friends or relatives?

If you are just coming for a week or two, it’s best to write up a list of places you hope to visit and do your best to follow the schedule.

For tourists, there are many amazing sites to see, but it’s a big country so it’s best to organize a schedule to meet your objectives. Do you like cities or the countryside?

The major cities are Beijing, Shanghai, Shenzhen, Xi’an, Wuhan Chengdu and many other cities with big populations and huge skyscrapers.

For first time tourists with just a week to visit, I would suggest going to Beijing and/or Shanghai.

The capital city is home to the Forbidden Palace, Great Wall of China, Summer Palace, along with many great museums.

While Shanghai is the financial hub so it’s great for dining out, shopping and strolling around the public gardens, parks and of course the Bund.

Nevertheless, China is more than a place for people to take a tour for a leisure trip.

Many people such as myself have moved here for the long-term so this requires having a different mindset to adjust to the cultural differences.

Under these circumstances, you should spend more time reading about China before moving to the country.

Good topics on China should be on Chinese-related history, literature, cultural, economics and contemporary books.

China has a long and rich history so it’s important to know not only the history of the People’s Republic of China and the ruling CPC (Communist Party of China) but you should read books about Ancient China’s history and the imperial dynasties.

That can help one better understand the real mindsets of the Chinese as they take pride in coming from a civilization that has endured for over 5,000 years.

The philosophy of Confucianism plays a strong role in Chinese culture to this day. Chinese families are closely knit and care deeply about education.

Confucianism promotes an ethical code that favors conformity, respect for elders and authority and to embrace a social harmony that places support for the community above support for the individual.

We can learn more about how Confucianism impacts Chinese society from National Geographic. The link is here:

https://www.nationalgeographic.org/encyclopedia/confucianism/

This endangered mandrill (Mandrillus sphinx) was photographed by National Geographic Photographer Joel Sartore on Bioko Island, Equatorial Guinea, in his ambitious project to document every species in captivity—inspiring people not just to care, but also to help protect these animals for future generations. Before drills disappear,

As reported by National Geographic:

“The main idea of Confucianism is the importance of having a good moral character, which can then affect the world around that person through the idea of ‘cosmic harmony.’ If the emperor has moral perfection, his rule will be peaceful and benevolent. Natural disasters and conflict are the result of straying from the ancient teachings. This moral character is achieved through the virtue of ren, or ‘humanity,’ which leads to more virtuous behaviours, such as respect, altruism, and humility. Confucius believed in the importance of education in order to create this virtuous character. He thought that people are essentially good yet may have strayed from the appropriate forms of conduct. Rituals in Confucianism were designed to bring about this respectful attitude and create a sense of community within a group.”

Based on my experiences, I would advise people planning to move here for the long term to develop more patience, humility and stay reasonable when dealing with unexpected situations.

Why North America is preparing for an Arctic battle

On the use of slippers in hand-to-hand combat

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

Marte Van Der Linden

General

There’s an Egyptian dessert called Oum Ali which commemorates a murder. The story goes that Shajar al-Durr, widow of a 13th century sultan, could not be ruler of Egypt unless she married. So she found herself a total pushover of a husband named Izz al-Din Aybak who she thought would make a fine puppet sultan. He was already married, but that did not stop the ambitious sultana-to-be. She simply forbade him from seeing his first wife and his son Ali.The ruling couple did not exactly live happily ever after. The sultan missed his old family. Eventually, the sultana had the sultan murdered and announced to the world that he had very tragically and completely accidentally died while taking a bath. The sultan’s first wife was not going to stand for this. She lured the sultana to the bath house, where her servants beat her to death with their slippers. To celebrate her victory, the first wife cooked up a delicious bread pudding with coconut and almonds and served it to all her friends. And she named the dish Oum Ali after herself: Ali’s mother. What a woman.I’ve never actually tasted this dessert, but the story stuck in my mind for three reasons. First of all, Egyptians are weird. Why would you name a dessert after a murderer? Second, this tragedy could have been avoided if they’d just let Shajar al-Durr be sultana and supreme ruler without a man. She was quite competent, apparently. Third, and perhaps most importantly, in the right hands a slipper can be a formidable weapon. I had a slipper. It was the middle of the night and someone was moving around my apartment. A burglar? A deranged mass murderer? A ghost? I needed all the weaponry I could get.I suppose Oum Ali and her servants used a fairly hefty type of slipper, perhaps something wooden like a clog. I had one of those flimsy slippers that are complimentary on long flights. I honestly don’t know why there was a slipper in the pocket of my dressing gown. The other pocket contained a toothpick and a postcard. I thought of the bread knife in the kitchen and the hammer in the tool chest. Both were beyond my reach. My bedroom did not contain any convenient cricket bats or thick hardcover books.My fingers tensed around the slipper in my pocket as I crept down the hallway. The light was on in the kitchen and someone was clattering around in there. Drawers. Cutlery. Plates. The tap. The fridge. A pan. The gas stove. Then a tiny crack followed by a loud sizzling sound. What kind of burglar breaks into a house to fry an egg?I peered around the corner and saw a woman dressed in green. She had dark hair that was fighting its way out of a fancy braid. She looked fairly harmless, but I did not relinquish the grasp on the slipper. Perhaps I could slip past her to the living room, find my phone, call the police…I must’ve made a noise because she glanced up.“Hi,” she said, with a flicker of a smile. “I suppose you are wondering what I’m doing in your kitchen in the middle of the night.”“Well, yes.”“Long story.” She opened a drawer and began to rummage through it. “Do you have a spatula?”“How did you get in?”“Your spare key. Honey, your letterbox is the first place burglars look. You really should be more careful.” She spotted the spatula in the earthenware jar by the stove and extracted it with a flourish. “You’re not hungry, are you? There was just one egg.”I shook my head and sat down at the kitchen table while she made herself a cup of tea and some toast to go with her egg. Sunny side up. She sat down opposite me and began to wolf down her food. I kept my hand in my pocket. The slipper felt oddly comforting.“So, first things first,” she said, between bites. “I’m Gloria.”I said nothing.“Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?”“I’m waiting to hear what you’re doing in my apartment.” I was also pinching myself repeatedly but all that got me was a bruised forearm. This was not a dream.The woman – Gloria – mopped up the last of the egg with a piece of toast and popped it into her mouth. “Would you believe me if I said I’m a secret agent, trying to track down a spy who could endanger my entire mission?”“What mission?”“Top secret, can’t tell you.”“I don’t believe you.”“Fair enough. I’ll give you a broad outline. It involves a stolen Rembrandt painting, three cardinals and a significant quantity of enriched uranium.”“I still don’t believe you.”“Too far-fetched? Yes, I suppose it is.” She took a sip of her tea. “What if I said I broke in on a dare?”“Better,” I said. “But still not believable enough. What sort of dare involves cooking?”“I have weird friends.”That I could believe.Gloria took another sip of tea. “You’d like me to leave, don’t you?”“Yes. I don’t like people breaking into my apartment.”“Is it technically breaking in if I used a key?”“Yes.”“I suppose you’re right.” She got to her feet, brushed a few crumbs of her shirt and put her plate in the sink. She also left the dirty frying pan on the stove.“Well,” she said. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”She held out her hand. When I didn’t move, she reached forward and pulled mine out of my pocket. I was still holding the slipper, and she raised an eyebrow at the sight of it.“You’re weird,” she said.

“Bit rich coming from you.”

“Who keeps a slipper in the pocket of their dressing gown?”

“Who breaks into a stranger’s apartment in the middle of the night to fry an egg?”

“I was hungry.”

“Then use your own kitchen!”

“Not possible, I’m afraid. My kitchen is far away. It would take me years to get back there.”

It was my turn to raise an eyebrow.

“It’s true,” she said. The smile was back on her face. The corners of her eyes crinkled. “I’m a time traveller from the distant future.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well, then! I’m an alien, and my home planet is dozens of light years from here.”

“I don’t believe you. And if you don’t tell me the truth right now, I’m calling the police.”

“And tell them what? That someone broke in and stole your last egg? I’ll be long gone before they get here. You can’t stop me.”

I held up my slipper. “I’ll use this.”

“To do what?”

I whacked her around the head with it. She blinked. I whacked her again. The slipper was drooping at a sad angle. I would be writing the Egyptian people a sternly worded letter concerning the effectiveness of slippers in hand-to-hand combat.

“Stop it,” Gloria said, after I’d whacked her a third time.

“Not until you tell me why you are here!” My brain was fizzing and my kitchen looked oddly shiny and blurred around the edges, the way everything looks when you are so tired you don’t realise you are tired anymore. It was nearly three in the morning by now.

“All right, then,” said Gloria. “I’ll tell you. I’m the queen of the fairies, and I appear in the human world once a year. If I am warmly received, I bless the world. If I am not, I curse it.”

“Curse all you want.” I raised the slipper.

She did swear then, a colourful string of invectives that would have made a sailor blush.

“Actually, I’m a scientist,” she said. A smile flickered across her face again. “I’m studying how people respond to strange situations.”

“I wonder what your ethics committee thinks of that.”

Perhaps I could push her out of my apartment. I stepped forward, and she stepped back, eyeing the slipper in my hand. Step by step, I nudged her towards the front door.

“I’m a member of the neighbourhood watch,” she said, as she took a step backwards into the hallway. “I regularly check if people hide their spare keys in stupid places, and then confront them like this.”

“That’s crazy.”

Gloria had her back to my front door now.

“You win,” she said. She took something out of her pocket and handed it to me. It was my spare key.

I opened the door. A blast of cold air made me shiver. “Why are you really here?”

“I’ve given you at least half a dozen reasons.”

“Are you saying one of them is the truth?”

“No,” she said. “All of them are.”

And she stepped out into the night and was gone.

I locked and bolted the door and placed a chair under the handle for good measure.

I can’t remember falling asleep but I must have done. I woke up the next morning with a pounding headache, still clutching the slipper. When I padded down the hallway, the first thing I saw was a chair propped against my front door. There was a dirty frying pan on the stove and a plate in the sink. I opened my fridge and saw I had one egg. There was a tiny note beside it.

I am many things, the note said. But not a thief.

Dresses inappropriately to get attention at the gym and NO ONE looks at her.

Title: The Chronicles of Sir Whiskerton: The Farm’s Feline Philosopher

If you must know, my name is Sir Whiskerton. Yes, Sir. I wasn’t knighted, but I knighted myself because, quite frankly, no one else on this farm has the class or intelligence to recognize my superior status. I’m a cat—a sleek, black-coated specimen of perfection—living amongst a bunch of clumsy, oafish creatures who call themselves farm animals. I tolerate them because the humans here provide decent food, and the sunlit barn roof is an ideal perch for my daily naps. But let me take you through one of my days, so you can understand the trials and tribulations I endure in my noble existence.

Morning: The Rooster Rivalry

The day begins, as it always does, with Harold the rooster making an absolute spectacle of himself. At precisely 5:00 AM, he climbs onto the fence post, puffs up his ridiculous feathers, and belts out a “cock-a-doodle-doo” so loud it could wake the dead. Naturally, I’ve told him before that this is unnecessary. The sun will rise whether or not he screams about it. But Harold thinks he’s some kind of celestial alarm clock.

“Harold,” I said just yesterday, “no one asked for your opinion on the time.” He didn’t respond because, well, he’s a chicken, and chickens are not known for their intellectual prowess. I will admit, though, that sometimes I find his delusions amusing. This morning, I simply glared at him from my spot on the haystack, my tail flicking in disdain.

“Don’t look at me like that, Whiskerton,” Harold squawked. “I’m doing my job!”

“Your job is unnecessary,” I replied with a yawn. “You’re like a noisy clock that no one uses anymore. Ever heard of smartphones? The humans have those now.”

Harold didn’t get it, of course. He never does. I let him strut around like he owns the place. One day, he’ll realize no one respects him, and I’ll be there to say, “I told you so.”

Midday: The Cow Conundrum

By lunchtime, I’d meandered over to the pasture to supervise the cows. They’re a particularly dull bunch, but they’re also massive, so I make sure to keep them in check. Today, Bessie, the largest and slowest of them all, was in a tizzy because she lost her bell. Again.

“Whiskerton, have you seen my bell?” she mooed, her big, watery eyes staring at me as if I cared.

“Bessie,” I said with a sigh, “you lose that bell at least twice a week. Have you checked under your giant butt?”

This was, of course, a logical suggestion, but cows are not known for their deductive reasoning. She just stared at me, confused, until one of the humans came by and found her bell hanging from a tree branch. A tree branch. I don’t even want to know how it got there.

“See?” I said smugly. “This is why I don’t wear accessories. They’re just a hassle.”

Bessie thanked the human, completely ignoring my sage advice, and went back to chewing cud. Honestly, I don’t know why I bother.

Afternoon: The Great Pig Heist

Now, here’s where things got interesting. Around mid-afternoon, I decided to patrol the barn to ensure everything was in order. This is when I stumbled upon something truly disturbing: the pigs were plotting a heist.

Yes, you heard me. The pigs. Plotting. A heist.

I overheard them whispering near the feed trough. “Tonight’s the night,” said Porkchop, the self-proclaimed ringleader. “We’re making a run for the cornfield.”

“Are you serious?” I said, stepping out of the shadows. “You’re going to risk your lives for corn? You do realize you’re already well-fed, right?”

Porkchop snorted. “You wouldn’t understand, Whiskerton. You’re not a pig.”

“Thank goodness for that,” I retorted. “But let me remind you that the humans will not be pleased if they catch you. And if they’re not pleased, they might forget to fill my food bowl. So, no, I cannot allow this nonsense.”

The pigs looked at each other, then back at me. “What are you gonna do about it?” Porkchop asked, his tone defiant.

I smiled—a slow, menacing smile that only a cat can pull off. “Let’s just say I know where the humans keep the electric fence remote.”

That shut them up real quick.

Evening: The Surprise Ending

By nightfall, I was feeling quite pleased with myself. I’d survived another day surrounded by idiots, and I was ready to settle into my favorite spot on the barn roof. As I stretched out under the stars, I reflected on my accomplishments: I’d put Harold in his place, solved Bessie’s bell crisis, and foiled the pigs’ ridiculous cornfield heist. Truly, I was the unsung hero of this farm.

But just as I was drifting off to sleep, I heard a commotion below. I peered over the edge of the roof and saw something that made my fur stand on end: the pigs had done it. They’d made it to the cornfield.

“How?!” I yowled into the night. “I warned you!”

Porkchop looked up at me, a smug grin on his muddy face. “You may be clever, Whiskerton, but you forgot one thing: we’re pigs. We don’t care about rules.”

And that’s when I realized the moral of the story: You can’t reason with stupidity. Especially when it’s determined, hungry, and covered in mud.

As I watched the humans chase the pigs back to the barn, I sighed and settled back down on the roof. “Let them have their fun,” I muttered. “I’m too dignified for this nonsense.”

And with that, I closed my eyes and dreamed of a world where cats ruled the farms and everyone else did as they were told. A cat can dream, can’t he?

The End.

What did your neighbors do to you that made you never want to speak with them again?

My husband and I were invited to a neighbors house for a potluck dinner.

I made a beautiful cake and put it on a beautiful cake platter that I had recently purchased.

It’s always my husband‘s job to make sure that whatever plate I bring to someone’s house comes back with us. So when the cake was finished, he grabbed the plate and quickly washed it and Put it into our car that was parked right outside.

A few weeks later, this woman called me and asked if she could borrow the platter. I told her of course she could and just pick it up anytime you want.

Two weeks later, I still hadn’t heard from her, so I called her up and asked her if I could come by and pick up the platter.

Her response?!?!

She then said to me “oh! You want to borrow my platter?”

I almost choked! I said “no Susan, I would like you to return my platter, the platter that you borrowed from me.

she then told me that I was mistaken, and the platter was hers. She told me she had recently bought it at Macy’s.

The first time she saw the platter was at my house and at the time she asked me where I had gotten it and I told her at Macy*s!

this woman was a member of the country club and I knew she went there regularly. I waited a few days until I knew she was at the club and sent my husband over to her house.

Her husband was home and didn’t know anything about this so my husband just said he was there to pick up our platter.

The husband was very nice and apologized that it hadn’t been brought back to us sooner.

Three hours later, I got a very angry call from Susan, who actually threatened to take me to court to get “her” Platter back.

Shorpy

Why did China change from being neutral to being pro-Russian?

Ask yourself what you have been doing?

You demonised China on environment and China clean up and you set 100% tariffs on EVs and Solar panels!

You accused China of stealing your technology but today you are very disturbed China is the biggest registrant of your US intellectual property rights?

You and 183/197 nations recognised Taiwan is part of China but you sell weapons to Taiwan to fight with China?

You sailed your military ships at China’s backyard but China is not in English Channel, or Florida’s coast or Tasman seas but you call China aggressive and yourself peaceful?

You wanted to finished Russia then focus on China, so why should China helped you do that!

Every Man Needs To Watch This

Do you reckon that China’s debut of its sixth generation NGAD fighter jet during the Christmas holiday has marred the leisure time of Pentagon civilian officials and will likely induce restless nights for them?

On December 26, the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) simultaneously displayed two different sixth-generation NGAD fighter jet, the 076 amphibious landing ship, the WZ-9 strategic drone, and the KJ3000 AWACS in tribute to Chairman Mao, the founder of the PLA.

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Some Chinese in the United States sent a message saying that traffic jams have started near the Pentagon, and classic pizza restaurants have also started to be overwhelmed.

In Washington, the U.S. House of Representatives urgently announced on the 26th that it would hold an extraordinary meeting on the 27th…

I didn’t expect that Americans would attach so much importance to Chairman Mao’s birthday. Americans are so polite. 😅

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Notably, photos taken in Sichuan Province indicate that China’s new aircraft are already marked with serial numbers. According to Chinese military regulations, only equipment that has been formally delivered to combat units is allowed to have serial numbers. This could suggest that China’s 6th generation fighter has already entered mass production and may even be combat-ready.

From this perspective, it is still not enough for the US military to evacuate from Okinawa in the first island chain to Guam in the second island chain. Perhaps it will be safe enough to evacuate to Hawaii in the third island chain. The second island chain is also about to collapse… 😂

U.S Marines’ transfer to Guam from Okinawa to start in December

The transfer of U.S Marine Corps troops stationed in Japan’s Okinawa to Guam will start in December, a Marines official said Sunday, the latest development in a long-agreed Japan-U.S forces realignment plan aimed at reducing the southern island prefecture’s base-hosting burden.

https://islandsbusiness.com/news-break/us-marines-transfer-to-guam-from-okinawa-to-start-in-december/

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The key to developing a new generation of fighter jets lies in having the necessary next-generation research facilities—specifically hypersonic wind tunnels. In this field, the U.S. is at least eight years behind China.

Wind tunnels are research facilities that simulate real-world flight conditions on the ground, with hypersonic wind tunnels reaching speeds of at least Mach 5. Beijing’s JF-22 wind tunnel can simulate speeds up to Mach 30, flight altitudes of 100 kilometres, and continuous operation for more than 100 milliseconds, making it the world’s most advanced wind tunnel. In contrast, the VOA reported in 2023 that the most advanced U.S. wind tunnel, LENS II, can only simulate speeds of Mach 7 and operate for just 30 milliseconds.

To understand the difference, imagine developing aircraft as training athletes. Having a super-fast treadmill allows engineers to closely observe the athlete’s form and offer precise feedback without having to transport test models to 100 kilometres in altitude. This not only reduces the risk of espionage during development but fundamentally improves the maturity of technology verification machines, ensuring fewer losses and greater safety for test pilots.

While the U.S. Sandia National Laboratory’s Z Machine can accelerate airflow to Mach 30, its primary purpose is to study shock waves for nuclear fusion, and it can only operate for a very brief period. Unlike Beijing’s JF-22, which is designed for continuous operation, the Z Machine cannot simulate sustained high-speed flight conditions needed for aircraft and missiles. It’s like trying to train a sprinter with a treadmill that can only simulate one step. Even if Usain Bolt’s first step is faster than anyone else’s, he won’t win the gold medal if he doesn’t complete the remaining 99 meters.

However, as of November 2024, the U.S. remains behind. The most recently delivered wind tunnel at the University of Notre Dame can only reach Mach 10, just one-third of the capability of China’s JF-22.

The development of hypersonic missiles also requires hypersonic wind tunnels. The lack of hypersonic wind tunnels is the reason why the United States has not successfully tested its hypersonic missiles.

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ARRW hypersonic missile test failed, US Air Force admits

Secretary Frank Kendall confirmed this month’s ARRW hypersonic test wasn’t successful, and said the service is more committed to another weapon.

https://www.defensenews.com/air/2023/03/28/arrw-hypersonic-missile-test-failed-us-air-force-admits/

The faster the flight speed, the greater the air resistance, and the more difficult it is to control the flight. If there is a slight deviation during the flight, the missile will have an error of tens or even hundreds of kilometers from the target.

Hypersonic aircraft is a technology that the United States has not yet developed. In the near space war zone, the sixth-generation fighter jets fly at a speed of Mach 5 at an altitude of more than 20,000 meters, opening up a new air combat mode.

The sixth-generation fighter jets flying in near space need to switch between high-density and low-density air.

Can the B2 or B21 fly at Mach 5? The only standard flight speed of the sixth-generation aircraft is Mach 5. 🤣🤣🤣

Personally, I think it would be better for the Americans to come out and brag about supersonic missiles after they have successfully developed them!

Hurdles in the Hypersonic Race: The United States’ Failed ARRW Program

The U.S. hypersonic program is lagging behind those of its primary adversaries due to multiple factors. The cancellation of the ARRW hypersonic program sheds light on this

https://thediplomat.com/2024/01/hurdles-in-the-hypersonic-race-the-united-states-failed-arrw-program/

Some of China’s Mega Projects

JF-22 wind tunnel

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HL-2M research tokamak

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Five-hundred-meter Aperture Spherical radio Telescope

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Neutrino experimental device

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TRUTHFULLY (How to Stop Lying with Squares) (AQAL Quadrant analysis)

Cinnamon Crunch Cobblestone Muffins

Yield: 12 servings or 24 sample servings

Ingredients

1/4 cup chopped pecans
2/3 cup sugar
1 tablespoon cinnamon
1/3 cup butter or margarine, melted
2 (11.3 ounce) packages refrigerated dinner rolls
1 tablespoon flour

Instructions

Heat oven to 375 degrees F.
Chop pecans using Food Chopper. Combine pecans, sugar and cinnamon in Small Batter Bowl; mix well. Microwave butter in Small Micro-Cooker(R) on HIGH 30 seconds or until melted.
Separate rolls; cut each roll into 6 pieces using Pizza Cutter. Place half of the dough pieces and 2 tablespoons of the butter in Classic Batter Bowl; toss gently to coat using Small Mix ‘N Scraper(R). Sprinkle with 1/4 cup of the sugar mixture; toss to coat. Evenly divide dough pieces to fill 6 muffin cups in Stoneware Muffin Pan. Repeat with remaining dough, 2 tablespoons of the butter and 1/4 cup of the sugar mixture; divide evenly to fill remaining muffin cups.
Add flour to remaining sugar mixture in batter bowl; add remaining melted butter and mix until crumbly. Using Small Scoop, place scant scoop of crumb topping over each muffin.
Bake 20 to 25 minutes or until muffins are deep golden brown.
Remove from oven to Stackable Cooling Rack. Let stand 5 minutes.
Remove from pan using Small Spreader; serve warm.

Do you think U.S. Congress should lift its ban on NASA cooperation with China in space?

No!

They were the ones that introduced the ban (Wolf Amendment) to deliberately ostracise China thus depriving them of any form of information sharing in that field.

So in asking in such a manner is looking like as if the US congress is benevolent in doing so in the eyes of those ignorant about the bad intentions of the US congress that introduced it in the first place. It gives hypocrisy a new meaning and a with such a shameless manner.

It’s like banishing someone only to accept him back when found that he’s badly needed to be reused.

The US is now seen as an ungrateful nation and treating others countries like disposable diapers. The entire EU countries and a number of Asian nations has become “Diaper Nations” to the US but China isn’t one of those.

Do I think the US congress should lift the.. ?

By lifting that ban now only show to the rest of the world how an entire congress becomes an instant pariah if it hasn’t already.

5 Real Reasons I Left America To Live Abroad As A PASSPORT BRO.

In response to Donald Trump’s threats, why doesn’t Greenland kick the US out of their base there, and get the British and the Swedes and the Germans to send troops there instead?

To kick USA out of Greenland? Not so easy.

USA is withdrawing troops from Okinawa in Dec 2024 to Guam & Hawaii.

No doubt for years, Okinawans staged countless protests against US soldiers on their island, but USA the mafia did not care, until 2024.

What makes USA change its mind?

It is because USA knows it cannot fight China in case of war. USA cannot protect its 1st island chain which covers Japan incl Okinawa, S Korea, Taiwan & Philippines. It fact, USA cannot protect its 2nd island chain Guam either. Nor Hawaii. Nor US mainland.

China has both medium & long range missiles that can hit 4000 km ie as far as Guam. China also can hit 8000 km ie Hawaii. In Sep 2024, China has successfully tested fired a 3rd generation intercontinental hypersonic missile that can hit US mainland in minutes.

USA reported that China has finished installing its med-long range missiles ie USA cannot defend its 1st island chain any more. That is why USA withdraws troops from Okinawa.

USA made it news about Okinawa because USA wanted to make it look like USA is such a gentleman who would listen to protests.

My guess is that USA may have quietly withdrawn troops & heavy duty weapons from Japan mainland & S Korea to Guam too. For the same reason, USA cannot defend the 1st island chain.

Now your question.

Greenlanders cannot kick USA out. USA is a mafia who only bows down to fist/weapon. Not to lip/protest.

Look at Syria. USA has illegally occupied the Syrian oil fields, stealing 80% of Syrian total oil production before war. USA also steals Syrian grain. UN condemned USA many times but failed because mafia USA is shameless.

That said. Greenlanders should learn from Okinawa. Protest & make international news. Constantly. Go to UN too. Lip pressure is better than none.

If Greenland is thinking to get military help, dont ask UK or Germany. They are US puppets & will bow down to USA.

Go ask for UN peacekeeping. Go join SCO to see if Russia or China can help with peacekeeping.

Good luck, Greenland. Stay strong because Greenland is sitting on a “gold” mine rich in natural resources AND north pole seaway.

What country do Westerners think has far worse corruption, the US or Russia?

One weekend in Sacramento with my girlfriend at the time we discovered a cool little state-owned military museum. It was exactly the kind of place I love, nothing too grandiose, just a treasure trove of authentic military displays, items and diaramas.

While I was there, I ran into one of the museum’s staff (he was a director or something like that) who was also a lieutenant colonel in the California Army National Guard. We had a great conversation about a lot of things. At the time, I worked for the California NG’s public affairs unit.

I messaged my boss and said this would be a great place to publish an article about, and she agreed. Then a couple of days later she contacted me and said absolutely do not write about the museum, don’t say anything about it. I was baffled and asked why. She didn’t know, that was just the instructions she received.

Then about a week later, that guy I talked to was caught by the Feds robbing the museum in the middle of the night with a few accomplices.

Just to explain what happened here: when a WWII veteran dies, his family will often donate all of his stuff to a museum. Old uniform items and nazi war trophies can be quite valuable on marketplaces like Ebay.

So sitting on millions of dollars worth of trinkets was just too much of a temptation for the lieutenant colonel. And mind you, this guy was not poor by any stretch of the imagination. He was a senior officer in the US Army, plus his position at the museum. But he still supplemented his income with theft. In his mind, he probably justified this enterprise as a victimless crime. The museum was getting more donated old kit and war trophies than they could ever use, and he decided to sell some of it and keep the money for himself.

Another example that stuck out to me. Last year I read about a Marine supply sergeant at Camp Pendleton who was convicted for his role in a crime ring that that sold leftover training ammunition on the civilian market.

Just to be clear, military bureaucracy is annoying and if this guy was just being a little fast and loose with the paperwork I wouldn’t judge him. “Hey Bob, just throw this ammo in your garage and we’ll get together to drink some beer and shoot it off later.” Not legal, but the ammo is getting used for what it was intended for. But these guys were stealing from the American taxpayer and pocketing the money.

And the thing is, it was a trivial amount of money. A Marine sergeant in California would be making at least 6 or 7 thousand dollars a month. And it’s not like they were selling Javelin missiles or 40mm grenades or anything like that. Just excess 5.56mm rifle and 9mm rounds. Was it really worth throwing away his career and spending time in prison for a few hundred dollars here and there? It blows my mind. But that’s corruption for you.

One time I traveled to Camp Roberts in central California and had a long talk with a senior guy at the G-8 (Finance). There had just recently been a massive scandal involving misuse of funds. Money that was supposed to be going to camp renovations was being rerouted to the neighboring base at San Luis Obispo, and also people’s pockets. He was the one honest guy in a den of thieves so got away unscathed, but I noticed he seemed to look older than he actually was.

I can think of at least a couple of other extraordinary cases of corruption that I interacted with personally.

So to actually answer the question, I have thought about how dirty the Russian government is in comparison to the US government, and I have tried to be impartial about it. How much does the average Russian official steal in comparison to the average American official? One HUGE advantage the US has is that our government employees are usually paid pretty well. I continue to be amazed at how little Russian government employees are often paid. BUT, as I already said, good pay doesn’t eliminate the temptation to steal.

The cultural trait working against Americans in comparison to Russians is that we tend to deny the problem exists. I have never met a Russian who denies that corruption exists and is a problem in Russia. But from talking to Americans, they very often bellow that corruption is not a problem and if you even try to suggest it might be, they scream “But but but North Korea but but but Russia but but but Cuba!” That doesn’t boost my confidence that the problem is actually being addressed properly.

THE UK IS DYING AND I NEED TO VENT

Really great rant.

Glimmers From a Gem by Christina Steele

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

Christina Steele

She kept a stone in her pocket. A black stone, cold to the touch, but it fit her palm as if moulded just for her. In times of indecision, she ran her thumb over the flat surface discerning the small crevices and bumps, angulations eyes could not see, but touch could memorise. Intuitively, the surface’s rises and falls represented life’s journeys, the everyday ups-and-downs, and scars, and struggles. Touching was usually enough to soothe her worries, one large Zen bead, or single Rosary bead.Occasionally, she needed to see the stone; to believe it existed. On those arduous days, sitting elbows on knees, moving this touched connection, this weight, from hand to hand, she’d view the depth of the black colour with its subtle contrast of weathered-white speckles. Doing so brought the piece into reality; making it more than something connected only by emotion, or something only ethereal. She had trust in the magic of this rock. This stone delivered to her at her mother’s funeral, when the pastor’s random pull from an amethyst bag, placed the smooth weight into her hand. She needed to see it, for it to be real, on those lonely doubt-filled days, the rock got her through.She rolled the stone over, her eyes mesmerised by the gold engraved cursive. It couldn’t be wrong. It was her mother’s last word, the only unanswered question, answered by a rock placed in her hand, a smooth stone that had seen her through several storms, a gem that spoke to her by feel, and could bring the warmth and pure earthy smell of her mother’s love to her as if by magic—a beautiful black stone with a single, now tarnished, gold word—dream. She read the gold cursive word that she had poured her money into, lost family over, had worked her fingers to the bone to earn. It had to—no—must be; real. If it weren’t, then she’d have nothing.That was the day she laid aside the expectations. She let out the breath she had been holding within, with all her might, for all her life. It was the end, acting as the end always does, as a disguised beginning.She believed beyond reason because if it existed, all her dreams would transform into reality as tangible as this touchstone looked, and felt, and smelled. Faith in the pebble in her pocket fed the hunger of her dream.She slipped the treasured gem back into her pocket — the weight a subtle reminder to ground herself. With a new glimmer of onyx inspiration, she slid behind the keyboard and began the novel, yet again. Knowing beyond any self-doubt, the rock in her pocket would see her through.“When do you think she will believe in herself as much as she believes in that dark abyss of a rock she carries?” her deceased grandmother asked.“Knowing her, not until that rock is dust,” her deceased mother responded. With that, they both picked up their pickaxes and chipped away at the crevices. Each swings’ corresponding chime, creating a song along a nerve, which arrived in their loved one’s brain, tap by loving tap, when silent, she heard—It’s not the rock, baby; it’s you. Believe in you

Make Sure

What’s your opinion on hatred of H-1B workers by MAGA supporters? Do you think H1B should go back to their home country?

Are we actually seeing a Civil war?

Trump with his MAGA base, anti migration, pro bringing back manufacturing

His VP seems to have vanished completely

Instead you have Musk and Ramaswamy both of whom are migrants or descended from migrants and both of whom want more migrants into the US and one of whom has exemptions to buy batteries from China without Tariffa and who has the largest of his Giga factories in Shanghai

The MAGA dont hate the Mexican migrants anymore

The Mexicans are needed for manual labor, babysitting & harvesting veggies

The MAGA mob wont do that

So what else?

They want the H1B migrants out

The ones who can buy nice houses, pay nice rents and keep the costs high and who have taken over the Bay Area

It could be the end of the MAGA movement forever

The MAGA are feeling increasingly betrayed and feel they have been taken as suckers

Now they see main stream media and start thinking either that

Trump made fools of us

Trump is being fooled by these two prigs – Ramaswamy & Musk

The may no longer vote for whoever Trump says anymore.

Do i think H1B visa holders should go back to their home country?

No idea

No idea how much the demand or supply for them is or where they work

However I can bet the MAGA supporters cannot replace them in any sizeable numbers

What do Europeans find most shocking about American restaurant culture when visiting the US?

First, I want to say that we have had excellent meals at restaurants in the U.S. This includes simple diners as well as restaurants with a Michelin star or which are on a star level.

But there are some things which are shocking indeed:

There are restaurants which do not serve alcohol. Once we stayed in a motel near Cape Canaveral in the middle of nowhere and there was nothing nearby but a Cracker Barrel to grab something to eat and they did not serve alcohol. Very hard for us Europeans to have dinner without wine.
Even after travelling to the U.S. for 40 years we still find it shocking how rushed it is in American restaurants. You have barely finished your plate and you are handed the check. In Europe, we like to sit at the table, have one more glass or two and contemplate about what we have eaten. Once, while having a longish layover at a U.S. airport we thought it was a good idea to spend some time in a restaurant. But they rushed to serve us our meal, handed us the check and indicated that we had to leave. Unthinkable in Europe.
When our kids were young we took them with us to fine dining restaurants. Obviously, the Americans do not like the idea to take children into a gourmet restaurant, although our kids always were well-behaved. We ordered filet mignon for them and other things and there was absolutely no reason to raise eyebrows.
In Salt Lake City we stayed at the Hilton Hotel when our kids were six years old. The hotel restaurant did not let the children in because the restaurant had a license to serve alcohol. Completely ridiculous to think that parents would give their six-year old alcohol! We then went to a nearby Mexican restaurant which served 36 kinds of tequila, but they happily accepted our kids.
In a restaurant in Alaska, we had show our passports, including my 88-year-old mother-in-law. How stupid can people be?

This was an honest answer by someone who loves to travel to the U.S. I expect Americans to eat me alive for my answer but the questioner asked for it.

Why Don’t Men “PURSUE WOMEN” Anymore | Women Realizing ” CHIVALRY IS DEAD” in 2024 – Kozmicverse

The Fear of Loud Silence

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

Heaven J. Fox

General

It was freezing as I make my way to the bus stop, but that wasn’t the only reason I stuffed my hands in my pockets and kept them there. For the majority of my life, I thought I was severely shy. So shy to the point I’d be stuck in the moment and couldn’t speak. There were so many passing moments, I should have spoken up about something, but every time, my voice escapes me. So many things I should have done, but my body would become paralyzed with an unknown fear.Later in life, I found out I was diagnosed with panic disorder and anxiety. Everything keeps me on edge. That’s why I keep my hand in my pockets. My right hand constantly caressing the content inside. I stay ready; that way, I don’t have to waste any time getting ready.I round the corner as my heart beats faster, pumping blood throughout my entire body. My eyes are wide open, and I’m alert as can be. This isn’t the best neighborhood to walk in alone, but it also isn’t the worst. I’d probably have these same emotions walking inside a gated community.My ears pick up the most silent of things. For instance, I’m sure I could hear an ant burrowing under the ground as I walk past. A dog barks in the distance. It’s faint like he’s barricaded inside the house, but it still causes me to jump, which throws my anxiety into overdrive. I squeeze my fingers around the object inside my pocket, ready to pull it out and use it at any moment. It’s the only protection I have. I wouldn’t feel safe at all without it.It’s so cold out here, my breath turns the air in front of me to that which resembles smoke. I see the bus stop up ahead, which makes me feel calmer, knowing my destination is only a few feet away. I try to slow my steps, thinking it would also slow my heart rate as I implement my breathing techniques.I can hear a car in the distance, probably going a little faster than it should in a residential area. It creeps me out because I don’t see it yet, and then it rounds the same corner I’d just turned.“WHOOP! WHOOP!” That loud piercing sound stops me dead in my tracks and freezes me. Only my physical movements because everything else inside my body again kicks into overdrive.The car comes to a rolling stop right in front of me with the cop car just behind it. In my head, I’m screaming to myself to just get the heck away from there and keep going. This isn’t my business. Once again, my hand squeezes the safety net inside my pocket. My mind shouts for my body to move and continue to make my way to the bus stop, but it’s as if my shoes have turned into cement blocks. If I don’t hurry, I will miss my bus.Nonetheless, I’m frozen with fear. Fear of the situation unfolding in front of me. Fear of leaving and fear of staying. The guy in the driver’s seat easily resembles one of my sons or even nephews. The cop approaching the car also resembles a few of my family members who wear the same uniform. We all are well aware and informed on how this scenario usually plays out. I pull my protection half-way from my pocket, making sure I have a firm grip on it.The officer pumps his chest out as he saunters over to the driver’s side. Feeling instantly agitated, he knocks on the frostedwindow. He shouldn’t have to do that because it should be common sense that he can’t have a proper conversation through the closed glass. His senses heightens, feeling this stop could bepotentially dangerous. “License and registration,” the cop barks as the driver only cracks his window open a smidgeon. What is he trying to hide? The cop thinks to himself as he places a palm on his side, firmly gripping his protection. (I get it. If you stay ready, you don’t have to get ready.)The guy inside the vehicle catches a glimpse of the cop resting his hand on the gun inside the holster. “Why did you pull me over?” The driver shouts through the slit in the glass.I’m sure all of our hearts were beating out of our chests at the moment.“Step out of the vehicle with your hands up!” The officer yells as he takes a step back and brandishes his weapon in front of him, pointing directly at the driver’s window. Anxiety pumps through his veins as he watches for any sudden movements.“I’m not getting out! Why did you pull me over?” The man in the car is filled with fear himself as he sees the barrow of the gun. Anxiety takes over him and he hovers his right foot over the gas pedal. His flight or fight senses kicking in as his fingers tightly grip the steering wheel. He’s contemplating his chances of zooming off and taking flight.The cop removes the stick from his side, ready to bash the driver’s window in. That’s when I pull my hand from my pocket and aim. Who do I shoot? The cop? Or the man in the car? I can’t decide, so I shoot them both.“STOP!” I yell with every fiber of my being, it had even shocked me. From my single voice, the world had come to a halt. Nothing moved or made a sound. Even my camera phone I was holding in my hand had stopped recording and paused.I make my way towards the police officer and hold my paused phone up to him. I can see everything…Officer Churchill had lost his partner not too long ago in a routine stop, just like this one. It should have ended in a warning or worst-case scenario… a ticket. Not someone’s life ending. Not only did his partner lose his life but also the person who had taken his partner’s life. That day, Officer Churchill had to make a split decision to end a human being’s life for the first time.Anxiety and panic shoot through his brain, waking up the fear inside him as he walks to the driver’s side. Inhaling a deep breath to soothe his nervousness, his chest puffs out. “License and registration,” Officer Churchill asks the driver as flashbacks of that day rush through his thoughts. The driver only cracks the window instead of rolling it down completely. Red flags go up, alerting Churchill that this guy was trying to hide something. Drugs? Weapons? He couldn’t be sure because he couldn’t see anything clearly through the frosted glass.Insubordination. It was the first clue that this guy may be a problem. I take the phone away from the officer and direct it towards the driver.Derrick had gotten a call from his son, who lived across town, telling him he’d missed the bus. One goal his son had made since kindergarten was to graduate high school with perfect attendance. Reaching middle school, he had done so thus far. Doing all that he can to help his son maintain that goal, Derrick hops in his car without having enough time to warm it properly and zooms off.WHOOP! WHOOP! That sound alone sizzles fear like electric shocks throughout Derrick’s body. Silently cursing to himself, he pulls over to the side of the road. For sure his son would be late now. The officer approaches as Derrick clicks the button to roll the window down, but because the car is still icy, the window only gives a little.“Why did you pull me over?” Derrick asks with adrenaline still coursing through his body. He did nothing wrong that he could see that would warrant to be pulled over. He quickly retraces his steps, wondering what he had done.The cop pulls his gun out and orders Derrick to exit the vehicle. No way was he falling for that trap. He’d seen way too many incidents on social media and even had a close friend lose his life this same way.If I get out, I’m a dead man. Derrick thinks to himself as panic kicks in his flight or fight senses and hovers his foot over the pedal.“Listen…” I mutter to myself as I take a few steps back from them both.Fear.Fear.Fear.We are not each other’s enemy. Fear is.Perfect love gets rid of fear.But how do we have perfect love? It can only come from both sides. Both sides must have perfect love for one another, or else fear will kick in and control us all and keep us divided.I know… it’s tricky because fear saves us too.Fear also tells us when danger is present.Maybe fear isn’t the culprit after all. Perhaps it’s panic. Maybe that’s why it’s a disorder. I’ve never heard of or have been diagnosed with fear disorder.

So, if perfect love gets rid of fear… what gets rid of panic?

“Listen,” I whisper as I press the button on my phone and continue to record.

“My window is frozen,” Derrick says, his voice shaking as Churchill lowers his stick from the window. “I can’t even open my door, sir. I had to get in from the passenger’s side.”

“Try the window again,” the officer orders. Derrick rolls the window up, down, up, and then it finally gives way and rolls down completely. “I pulled you over because you were going pretty fast back there in a residential area. It’s icy out here, and it could be unsafe for kids walking to school.”

“I understand officer,” Derrick says and briefly explains why he was in a rush.

“I will let you go with a warning this time on the premise you drive safely.”

“Will do, sir.”

My heart jolts when I hear a screech and a whooshing sound. I gasp as I turn my head and see my bus awaiting me. I smile and place my phone back into my pocket and board the bus.

“Good morning,” the bus driver grunts. “It’s a bad day out today.”

“No sir,” I smile back at him. “It’s a good day, but it is freezing out there.” I have a seat and slide my hand back in my pocket, gripping my phone tightly. Ready and waiting.

Does “from concentrate” or “not from concentrate” matter from a consumer perspective when it comes to juice?

The difference isn’t what the juice companies want you to think it is.

“Not from concentrate” indicates they pasteurized the squeezed juice. That’s it. Here’s what they do not tell you, though: they deplete the oxygen and keep it in large tanks for up to a year.

They include orange by-products’ flavor packs to restore taste lost when they are ready to sell it. These flavors are technically “natural” because they come from oranges but they are as natural as a wolf in a petting zoo.

“From concentrate” meant they squeezed the juice, evaporated the water to simplify shipping, then added water back later. They add the same flavor combinations. The nutritional value is almost exact. The only real variations are storage and processing techniques.

Neither one tastes like fresh-squeezed orange juice. The processing eliminates the subtle flavors. Designed to replicate what has been lost, those flavor packs are created by the same people that create perfumes. All of it is industrial food production; just wearing different masks.

She Broke-Up and BLOCKED Him Before 4 Day Girls Trip and then THIS Happened

Which countries are still in love with the USA today?

None.

In politics there’s nothing like LOVE but it will be deception. People who are diplomatic call it LOVE. Public is always deceived only by the jugglery of the words.

A print media’s joke will explain it. Once a President ordered his secretary “Write a 2 pages ‘no comment’ and release immediately”.

USA is bullying all other nations after the demise of USSR. Now LOVE drama is the only source to get rid of its bullying.

Is China’s J-20 stealth fighter a rival to the US F-35?

Yes, it is becoming one over time. China became only the second country in the world to mass produce a VLO stealth aircraft when its J-20 became operational in 2017. Chinese aircraft industry has taken off in the last fifteen years, since it successfully developed the J-10 series of fighter aircraft. The J-10 began its life as a relatively low-end 4th generation aircraft. China’s quest for the development of high-end aircraft began in earnest with the J-10B. This was the first Chinese aircraft to use an Active Electronically Scanned Array (AESA) radar. In the meantime, development work on the J-20 began as well, with its first flight taking place in 2011.

When the J-20 first entered service, its engine, passive sensor quality, avionics and sensor integration were well behind the state of the art for 5th generation aircraft. Its engine (WS-10B) wasn’t even suitable for a high-end 4th generation aircraft. The only thing that the J-20 had in its favor was a high-performance airframe, a powerful radar and a high tech BVR missile. All these things were quite noteworthy, and signaled to the world that China had cracked the code of developing high technology aircraft. The substantial size of the aircraft and continued investment by the Chinese government into developing high quality technological infrastructure made it relatively easier for the aircraft designers to enhance its array of features over time.

The J-20 has come a long way since 2017. The latest J-20A and J-20S models have slowly become formidable 5th generation aircraft. They are now equipped with the more technologically advanced WS-15 engines. These engines are not very far behind the F-22’s F119-PW-100 engine in technology. The WS-15 has enabled the J-20 to achieve better kinematic performance, including supercruise at Mach 1.6 (sustained supersonic flight without afterburners), which the F-35 is not capable of. The J-20A features a revised fuselage mold line, including a reprofiled nosecone, a deeper spine, and a slightly raised cockpit. These changes help accommodate the new engines and additional avionics, while the J-20S has added a WSO for electronic warfare.

The J-20 also features deeper sensor integration, more powerful computer processing, second generation passive sensors, better EOTS, improved HMD and new MAWS (missile approach warning system) and IRST. It now also boasts a class leading combat radius of 750 miles (1,200KM). Chinese military aviation industry has made tremendous strides and has overtaken Russia in several key aspects of aircraft design, and are almost at par with Russia in engine design technology. The Chinese and Russian engines still fall short in some key areas, especially engine efficiency, thrust to weigh ratio and engine lifetime and China still remains behind the USA in airframe life, avionics, system integration and weapon reliability.

The F-35A multi-mission aircraft. Its powerful single engine makes it affordable to fly in comparison to twin engine aircraft. The F-35 is the most widely used fifth generation aircraft in the world.

The F-35 is the swiss watch of 5th generation aircraft that is being produced in three different versions, that is a part of its strengths and its weaknesses. Its weaknesses stem from the necessity of making it suitable for the Navy, Marines and the USAF. Despite its self-imposed design limitations, the F-35 is the highest technology aircraft currently in service, anywhere in the world. Its F-135 engines are not only the most powerful in the world, but also operate at the world’s highest turbine inlet temperature of 1,925 C (3,500 F), maximizing performance. The F-35 production has been continuously upgraded since its induction.

Several major F-35 upgrades are expected between 2025–27 that are part of the Block 4 upgrade program, which includes over 75 major enhancements including:

Technology Refresh 3 (TR-3): This upgrade provides new and improved displays, computer memory, and processing power.

Increased Payload Capacity: The F-35 can now carry 5,700 pounds (2,600 kg) internally and 15,000 pounds (6,800 kg) externally, with a total weapons payload of 18,000 pounds (8,200 kg).

Enhanced Connectivity: The aircraft now features a connected fighter platform that enhances capabilities across air, land, and sea.

New Weapons and Sensors: The upgrades include newer weapons, sensors, data processing, and target acquisition capabilities.

The STOVL version of F-35 is perhaps the most complex fighter aircraft ever produced.

Enhanced F135 upgrade: In addition to a 5–8% thrust increase, this major modification will double the available electrical power from 30kW to 60kW.

This modification will improve cooling of electronic systems and current radar, while providing greater electricity reserve for the addition of more powerful computers and the new, more powerful APG-85 radar GaN radar. The new radar will have far better resolution and range compared to the J-20 radar.

Meanwhile, the GE-XA100 adaptive cycle engine, which was eagerly anticipated to be part of the block 4 upgrade has not been chosen to power the aircraft. This remarkable new powerplant increases the F-35 range by 20% and thrust by 20% with minimal modification to the aircraft. This engine possesses the capability to boost the kinematic capability of the F-35.

The F-35 has fallen behind the J-20A in long range air to air weapon systems.

The J-20 is designed as a long-range stealth fighter optimized for air dominance and interdiction missions, while the F-35 is a multi-mission aircraft for air to air, and air to ground roles.

The J-20’s larger size accommodates substantial internal fuel, increasing range in comparison to the F-35.

The J-20 also has larger internal weapon bays compared to the F-35, potentially allowing a greater payload for air-to-air and strike missions.

It houses the PL-15 missile, which currently out-ranges the long-range missiles carried by the F-35.

The addition of JATM-260 air-to-air missile in the next couple of years is expected to level the playing field for the F-35 in BVR combat.

With its larger airframe and internal fuel capacity, the J-20 can operate and intercept aircraft at extended ranges compared to the F-35.

What’s a conspiracy theory you secretly believe might be true?

Not a deliberate conspiracy, but I believe the norms and aesthetics around “old money” evolved to prevent revolt.

I am not talking about practical choices — like driving a reliable old car. “A penny saved is a penny earned” is IMO an proven tactic in accumulating wealth.

But displays of wealth are another thing, and this answer refers to the value old money puts on understated displays of wealth. One example is the brands they choose. Check out this coat from Loro Piana, a clothing company many average folks have never even heard of.

Made from baby cashmere and vicuña, “two of the rarest, finest fibers in the world,” this coat retails for $29,000.

I’m sure it’s extremely warm and soft and beautiful, but as a status symbol, it barely registers.

If you passed this person in the elevator, say on your way home from a 12-hour shift in Customer Service, the wealth disparity wouldn’t be obvious. And if you were wont to get mad about some exec wearing a coat that cost more than your car, this particular coat likely wouldn’t raise your blood pressure.

But a fellow old-money person would be impressed, and that’s the whole point. Get the status you crave from those who “matter” (and who may help you get more), while avoiding the resentment (that may devolve into revolt) from the masses.

There are TONS of these secret signifiers among those with wealth and influence, and the longer it’s held by one’s family and associates, the stronger and more entrenched they become. Sure, not all old money people conform to all customs, but enough of them do that it ceases to be a matter of personal taste.

As a social and cultural phenomenon, I find the old money thing to be deeper than it may seem. I believe it evolved over time — centuries or longer — through events like the French and Russian revolutions, as a kind of protective mechanism for the elite class.

The island

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

After reading the answers from many foreign netizens, I realized several misunderstandings between Chinese and foreigners when it comes to the military industry.

In the minds of Chinese people, the military industry is the most important and cutting-edge industry in a country.

The military industry must develop independently.

But most foreigners don’t see it that way.

Then the problem arises.

For the Chinese, the military industry can invest in research and development regardless of cost, price, or time. Therefore, in many places where China still lags behind in civilian industries, the military industry has long been ahead.

Why the military industry cannot be converted to civilian use is simply because the civilian industry needs to consider costs, cost performance, and sales.

China’s military industry actually sells very few products for export, and most of them are for its own use.

So since it is for your own use, it is natural to use whatever is best.

Also, I always feel that many people mention the research and development issues of things like chips and engines.

But have you ever thought about it, the reason why China’s 3nm chips are not mass-produced is because the cost is too high, the price/performance ratio is not enough, and there is no market competitiveness.

But when it comes to the military industry, does the military industry need to consider cost-effectiveness? Do you need to consider market competitiveness?

Military products serve the war and are used for fighting.

So even if the yield rate is not enough, even if this technology is completely loss-making for civilian use and has no market competitiveness at all, it will be fine for military use.

As for the export of military products, wouldn’t it be enough to export them after the technology matures?

I have seen many comments from foreign netizens, and one stands out: China can only copycat and steal technology?

Did you make something wrong?

China’s military industry has always been a completely independent system from the rest of the world. I admit that in the early days, our military industry was influenced by Soviet technology. But those technologies cost money and are exchanged for benefits. If you don’t believe it, you can ask Russian experts.

In addition, China, the United States and Russia are the only three countries in the world that can independently produce fifth-generation and fourth-generation aircraft.

Now China has become the only country in the world that can independently produce sixth-generation fighter jets, and it already has two types.

And even France and Britain cannot do it.

As for other countries, don’t talk about whether they have fourth-generation or fifth-generation machines.

Ask your own experts who owns the technology and components for your fourth- and fifth-generation aircraft.

Most countries do not even have the ability to independently develop third-generation aircraft.

Therefore, I am very unhappy with the many slanders against China’s military industry.

China’s private industry may indeed have gone through a long process of cooperation, copycats, and counterfeiting, and it has indeed had quality problems for a long time.

But for civilian equipment, the first premise is cost-effectiveness, which must be sold for money. So if the early technology is not good, of course the quality will be bad.

Now who dares to say that the quality of Chinese manufacturing is not good?

However, China’s military industry is rarely exported as commodities. Even if it is exported, it is products that have been eliminated after long time replacement, or that have already met the cost-effectiveness.

As for what I use, of course, what is the best thing to use? Consider value for money.

There are also some comments that think the Chinese will be angry because their military spending is too high?

I would like to respond that for the Chinese, what they have always worried about is insufficient military spending, not too high military spending. All Chinese, even those who are dissatisfied with the country, ridicule our military spending for being too low. When China’s military expenditure becomes the largest in the world, I think there will be far fewer dissatisfied voices.

What ‘die die must have’ products do you really need from the USA today? Boeing airplanes, military weapon systems, Tesla EV cars, Apple iPhones, … Don’t you think you can find cheaper and better alternatives that are more affordable?

Take India

Google is the most commonly used search engine with Bing at number two – both have 100% market

Gpay is western, PhonePe is owned by Walmart & General Atlantic

IOS & Android control the entire smartphone OS market

Spotify & iTunes are both owned by Western Entities

X, Reddit, Facebook, Instagram & Quora are all owned by Western Entities

YT is owned by a Western Entity

Commercial Servers are either IBM or Dell

Commercial Processors used are either INTEL or UNIX

Internet Infrastructure and Communication Infrastructure is entirely controlled by Alcatel, Cisco, Huawei, Zte, Nokia, Sony Ericcson & Siemens

90% of the Commercial Software like SAP and CRM and ERP software is Western owned and licensed

The Silicon Valley of India – has absolutely nothing of it’s own with even a 1% global share in the Hardware & Software Arena

Every Upgrade, Patch, Debugging & Licensing deal is dependent on the United States or it’s allied countries

Indian Currency?

Absolutely dependent on Switzerland for the Multi Chrome & the Security Inks

In fact 70% of the world uses SIPCA and its security Inks

Aircraft?

US has monopoly on Commercial Aircraft Engines

India can only make Grade D Parts and Non Composite Aircraft Body Shell

The List goes on and on

It’s not Iphones Or Tesla EV Cars

It’s the fact that for most nations, their entire advancement is entirely due to the Western ecosystem and that means US Controlled

It’s not just India

It’s every nation outside China and to an extent Russia and Iran

If India is sanctioned by the West – and all these are restricted – India will be helpless in every way

The West can demand our politicians put on a strip dance and they would have to do it if they make it a condition

Only CHINA is rapidly cutting off with its own indigenous supply chain and reducing its dependence every day

Why don’t people give the homeless a place to stay?

I have helped out a plethora of homeless people by giving them a place to stay, and it always blew up in my face. Top examples of why I do not do that anymore…

1. We let my husbands friend, her husband, and their two kids live with us in our tiny apartment. We gave them the ONLY private space we had. They physically fought, she cut her husband with a straight razor getting blood all over the beige carpet(he didn’t press charges or leave her). Then her brother broke into our home and attacked me and my husband for “mooching off his sister” because she told him we were livng with them and not paying anything, not the other way around. Then when she moved out she stole everything she could, from sheets and dishes to movies and TV series.

2. We let a man stay with us after his 6’2″ girlfriend beat him (5’7″) up and threw him out, it was winter and we didn’t want him to freeze. Woke up in the morning to more than $500 of our stuff missing along with him.

3. Let a guy stay with us that had known me since I was 2, was an acquaintance of my dad’s.. woke up to him SA’ing me…

None of those are even the people we found out were bringing drugs, bugs, and communicable diseases into our home (like oozing MRSA wounds).

Over the years giving a warm place to those without has cost me tens of thousands of dollars. There have been people I have helped who were genuinely good people down on their luck, but they were so few and so far between that it wasn’t worth it anymore. I still donate to the local shelters, but I will never host again.

Trump Uniting With China! This Will DEVASTATE Europe!

Reid Fleming the world’s toughest milkman

Today, I wish to talk about Reid Fleming (the world’s toughest milkman).

Ah. He’s a fictional character. And resides within the realm of a fictional universe on alternative “adult” comic.

I came across him during my days in Hattiesburg, Mississippi when I bought a catalog of alternative comic works. Lots of great stuff there, and it was a niche market and I fell in love with it.

I really love this guy. I bought a bunch of his comics. Ah.

There were other comic of note as well, such as “Steven“.

He was such the little bastard. Here’s what DeepSeek has to say about that comic…

"Steven" by Doug Allen, which was indeed an alternative comic from the 1990s. The titular character, Steven, was known for his nihilistic attitude, constant use of the phrase "Fuck you," and his generally misanthropic outlook on life. The comic was part of the underground/alternative comics scene and appeared in various anthologies and zines during that era.

Doug Allen's work, including "Steven," hasn't been widely reprinted or collected, which is why it can be difficult to find today. The comic was emblematic of the gritty, anti-establishment ethos of 1990s alternative comics, but it never achieved mainstream popularity. As a result, it remains a somewhat obscure piece of comic history.

If you're looking to track it down, your best bet might be scouring online marketplaces for old comic anthologies or zines from the 1990s, or reaching out to collectors of alternative comics. Websites like eBay, MyComicShop, or even forums dedicated to underground comics might yield some results.

Ah, but I love it.

Enjoy some of his art…

Today…

France Tells Citizens “Leave Iran Immediately”

Hal Turner World March 20, 2025

This morning, the government of France began telling its citizens to “Leave Iran Immediately.”

This may have to do with President Trump’s letter to the Ayatollah Khamenei, which reportedly told Iran the United States will give them two months to negotiate a new nuclear deal.

Iran is not likely to engage in any negotiations with the US because the last deal it negotiated, the US pulled-out of. Further, the Iran government publicly stated they will not engage in negotiations under threat or while they are suffering severe economic sanctions.

Today’s warning by France to its citizens seems more likely related to what the state of Israel may do.

On March 1, 2025, this website reported a LEAK of Top-Secret, Classified documents showing Israel was in the final stages of planning an enormous attack upon Iran. (Story Here)

It seems possible that Israel is planning to undertake some military action, which France perhaps has become aware of, which may be why the French told their citizens to “Leave Iran Immediately.”

If Israel attacks Iran (again) the Iranians have made clear they will unleash a full military missile response against the entire landmass of Israel, starting with the Israeli nuclear center at Dimona.

Russia to ABANDON Self-Imposed Moratorium on Intermediate Range Nuclear Missiles

Hal Turner World December 29, 2024

Russia’s foreign minister announced on Sunday that Moscow will end its unilateral moratorium on deploying intermediate- and short-range missiles, saying this is in response to actions taken by the US.

“It is obvious today that, for example, our moratorium on the deployment of intermediate- and shorter-range missiles is already practically unviable and will have to be abandoned,” Sergey Lavrov told state news agency RIA, referring to the Intermediate-Range Nuclear Forces (INF) Treaty.

Lavrov said the moratorium is still in effect, but he accused the US of “arrogantly” disregarding warnings from both Russia and China and proceeding with the deployment of such weapons in various global regions.

He also cited Russian President Vladimir Putin’s statements on the matter, saying that Moscow would respond to these actions proportionately.

“The recent test of the latest hypersonic medium-range system Oreshnik, carried out by us in combat conditions, convincingly demonstrated our capabilities and determination to implement compensatory measures,” Lavrov added.

Addressing arms control issues between Russia and the US, he said Moscow will not engage in any negotiations with Washington on this matter until the US abandons its “anti-Russian course.”

The US and NATO would face a “decisive” response from Russia if they create new threats against the country, he warned, stressing that Moscow is prepared for any scenario.

The INF Treaty, signed by Washington and Moscow in 1987, prohibited the deployment of ground-based nuclear and conventional missiles.

However, the US withdrew from the treaty in 2019, citing what the US called “Russian violations.”

Hal Turner Snap Analysis

The world just got dramatically more dangerous.

Whereas during the INF Treaty, both the US and Russia agreed to NOT deploy short and medium range nuclear missiles, the US withdrew from that back in 2019, but Russia CONTINUED to abide by it. Now, Russia will no longer abide because the US not only withdrew in 2019, the US has begun actually DEPLOYING such ground-based (moveable) missiles.

Think back to a couple months ago when Russia launched their Oreshnik medium range missile against Ukraine. Russia gave the 30 minute warning to the US as was required under the INF Treaty, even though the US withdrew from it. Now, we won’t get those 30 minute warnings.

When Russia launched against Ukraine, the missile flew so fast, that no missile defense systems were able to intercept it. NONE!

That missile struck the target it was aimed at and utterly destroyed the target within about two minutes.

TWO MINUTES ! ! ! ! !

Now, think NATO Capital Cities

All the NATO capital cities within about 5,000 KM of Russia, can all be hit in less than about 5 minutes from time of launch.

No time to even THINK about what to do, never mind respond.

Is it a conventional missile coming at them? Or is it nuclear???? No way of knowing.

See how frighteningly dangerous this just became?

All this . . . . because of US/NATO Meddling in Ukraine.

Ok She Went TOO FAR

How dark is the politics of China?

Velly velly dark!

They execute people for just taking some money from the government. No human rights for these guys at all, how sad.

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I mean, all he took was just 421 millions, right? In U.S., if you do that, they make you the president. Biden has misused 200 billion USD for Warprofiteering fraud, and he is celebrated.

So it’s safe to say China has no love for criminals. How evil. Criminals need human rights too, you know? They need their expensive mansions, their multiple mistresses, their horde of spoiled rotten children.

Without these guys, how can China invade, colonize, and genocide other countries? How can China exploit and drive their citizens to homelessness? What is China thinking?

Radio City Music Hall’s Christmas Spectacular

Which country has the best chance of leading in the robotics industry in 20 years: US, China, Japan, or other?

China

It’s only China

No matter how advanced a Robot, the others build – China will commercialize it for a sixth of the price tag

The LNG Carrier market is the best example

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China makes LNG Carriers faster than Koreans at 70% of the Cost in Dollars at the same or better quality

Routers are another example

China makes better routers at 60% of the price of the Taiwanese

I can buy 50 Routers for the price of 30 Taiwanese Routers

Thats what an Industry means

You need a market for such a large number of Robots and you need a supply chain to keep costs minimum

China wins hands down in both

Boston Dynamics may make better robots but their quantity and price would be through the roof

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By comparison, the Chinese make Robots of 90% quality at 40% the price and deliver up to seven times the quantity

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And ultimately as China goes up the supply chain, it gets the qualitative edge it needs 😁

The Price of a Nice Guy

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

Sam Lauren

General

The worst part about a flat tire is the men.You’d think it would be the lug wrench. It’s so cold that it hurts your fingers to touch it but if you don’t hold on tight the lugs will never come off. It’s gangly, like you, but it’s got four long limbs and you’re the shortest woman in your family. It’s awkward to handle. Sometimes when your fingers slip you crack your knuckles against the metal and it hurts enough to make you curse aloud.It’s not the worst part though.Neither is the rain. It soaks through your sweater and the Save the Bees shirt underneath. Your jeans weigh a ton now and every step sloshes more water across your ankles and down into your shoes. Your socks make that great squishing sound that curls your stomach and chafes your feet. Every drop of rain stings your face, freezes in your hair. Your eyes are the only warm thing left outside of the car so your glasses fog up and you have to peer over the rims to change your blurry tire.It could be worse though. Not snow, snow would be better.Even the money you’ll have to spend on a new tire isn’t so bad. It’s two weeks until Christmas and you haven’t bought all your presents. Some aunt or 3rd cousin will look at you with pity and say they understand. It’ll make you feel even worse.But not as bad as you feel right now, drenched in every crevice of your body, and being hollered at by cars passing by inches away from your hunched over body.Most of them honk. People tell you this is no big deal, it’s just one honk, it’s a compliment. But it’s not. It’s a slurry of them, one after the other, with just enough space that the guy behind the wheel thinks he’s the only one doing it. You don’t feel special. You feel panic when the sudden noise whirls you around. You expect to see a crash, maybe be a part of one.Some of them, smokers, have their windows down. They yell words you can’t hear in tones you can’t appreciate or even understand. Is it the way your waterlogged pants sag down your already underwhelming butt? Or is it your vulnerability that turns them on?A few even slow down and offer to help. You tell them thanks and they wait a minute, watching you, just to be sure. They may have been legit but you’re fine, really, you just need to find the right angle and this last lug will come off.It won’t though. You’ve been trying for a while.It’s time to call Annie. A couple more men pause to offer assistance while you’re on the phone and you’re tempted to accept but you don’t want to inconvenience anyone. Least of all Annie but now you don’t have a choice. She’ll be here as soon as she can.You give the lug wrench a few more tugs, hoping and even praying that the stupid nut nudges so you can call her back and tell her it’s fine.That’s when the worst part shows up.You don’t mean to sound ungrateful. You want to be, and in a way you are. Gratitude is something you cling to harder than you do your own safety.It’s a pickup truck like the one Annie drives. Six wheels, extra high beams, one of those hitches on the front for pulling damsels out of distressing ditches.A man steps out of it and crosses the potholes with boots that don’t mind the splatter. “You look like you need some help.”What can you say? He’s right.Maybe just a quick turn of the lug wrench and that’s all, then you won’t have to drag Annie into this weather. He’s already out of his car, you might as well. “It’s stuck,” you say. You stand up, releasing control but not tension. You step back when he gets closer, and you tell yourself you’re overthinking it. You’re just being paranoid.”No problem.” He kneels down beside your tire and suddenly the lug wrench doesn’t seem so big. His knee is muddy and wet now, and this is what you’ll be thinking of when things get weird. This is what makes you feel like you owe him.He’s right, again. The lug nut comes away easy for him.”Thanks,” you say, “I appreciate it.”He keeps going. He takes the tire off the mount and rolls it to the spare.”I can take it from here,” you say.”It’s no trouble.”It makes you a little bit nervous. What can you do, stop him from helping you? He’s twice your size and the lug wrench is on the other side of him. So you tell yourself it’s fine, he’s better at this than you, in a few minutes it’ll all be over with and you can call Annie back and tell her not to come.You tell yourself to stop being so paranoid but in your pocket, your fingers find your keys. Just in case.”Headed to work?” He asks.”No, school.””You’re in high school?””No, college. I’m studying microbiology.””Ah, a smart one.”

“I like to think so.” It’s just conversation, it’s the least you can do.

“Beauty and brains, your boyfriend is a lucky guy.” He smiles up at you then reaches for the pile of lug nuts resting on a soaked towel.

“I’m gay,” you tell him.

“Oh,” he says.

He spins each lug into its place. He uses his whole body as leverage to tighten them too tight, then offers to put the tire in the trunk. He’s already doing it before you respond. He puts the wrench in there too, and the towel, and the jack.

When he closes the trunk he leans against it. You tighten the grip on your keys. “Thank you,” you tell him. “I appreciate it.” And you do, or else you would’ve said no a long time ago.

“No problem. Maybe we can get a drink sometime?”

“No, thanks.”

“I thought you didn’t have a boyfriend?”

“Yeah, I’m gay. I have a girlfriend.”

“Oh.” He stands up a little straighter. “Can she change tires?”

An image of Annie at work flashes into your mind. The garage is noisy but she hears you. Her face is smeared with grease when she slides out from under the car. She’s wearing overalls and her dark hair is coming loose from a bun. She looks kinda like a sexy live-action version of the mechanic from Atlantis but you don’t want to share that with this guy.

You just say “thanks anyway.”

“Come on, it’s just a drink. It doesn’t mean anything but thanks.” He takes a step closer, pulls out his phone. “What’s your number?”

Your fingers tense around the keys, weaving through each one. The house, the car, Annie’s car, the shed, your mom’s house. A fistful of metal with sharp jagged edges. You don’t pull it out yet but you’re ready at a moment’s notice.

“It’s not a big deal,” he says. “Your girlfriend can come too. It’ll be fun.”

Another car slows down, lowers its window. A voice from the driver’s side asks if you need help and your rescuer answers for you.

“It’s all taken care of, thanks,” he says.

This new one might be genuine. He looks at the truck parked behind your Chevy and then at the man standing beside you. Maybe he sees the age difference, or maybe he sees the small pool of rainwater collecting on the still extended phone, you don’t know. But he waits for you to respond. Maybe he just wanted to hear your voice.

You’re probably being paranoid.

“I’m good now, thanks,” you say, and you open your car door while you can. You know that the man won’t push for your number with someone else watching, no matter how innocent his request is.

This new stranger waits another moment before he leaves, long enough for you to slide inside your car. You thank them both again and you shut the door behind you.

You take your keys out, each one still poking through the spaces between your fingers like improvised brass knuckles. You don’t wonder if you would’ve had the strength to use them well, because you’re just paranoid. He was just being friendly. You don’t wonder why the honking and hollering stopped once you had a man standing next to you, because it’s just coincidence.

You call Annie to let her know she doesn’t have to come.

Cheddar and Beef Stuffed Sandwich

Yield: 8 servings

Ingredients

1 medium green bell pepper, chopped
1 medium onion, chopped
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
2 garlic cloves, pressed
1 teaspoon dried oregano leaves, divided
2 (283g) packages refrigerated pizza crust
8 (250g) packages thinly sliced deli roast beef
8 ounces (250g) thinly sliced Cheddar cheese
1 egg white, lightly beaten

Instructions

Heat oven to 400 degrees F.
Using Food Chopper, chop green pepper and onion. Heat oil in Stir-Fry Skillet, over medium heat until hot. Press garlic into oil using Garlic Press. Add bell pepper, onion and 1/2 teaspoon of oregano. Cook and stir 3 to 4 minutes or until vegetables are crisp-tender. Remove Skillet from heat.
Unroll 1 pizza crust onto lightly floured surface. Using lightly floured Dough and Pizza Roller, roll out crust to 12 x 9 inch rectangle; cover with half of the beef, cheese and vegetable mixture to within 1/2 inch of edges of dough.
Starting at longest side of rectangle, roll up dough, jellyroll fashion; press seam together to seal. Repeat with remaining crust and filling ingredients. Place rolls, seam sides down, on Large Round Stone. Join ends of rolls together to form 1 large ring; press ends together to seal.
Brush egg white onto dough using Pastry Brush. Sprinkle with remaining oregano.
Bake for 20 to 25 minutes or until golden brown.
Let stand for 10 minutes.
Cut and serve using Slice ‘N Serve.

Nutrition

Per serving: 371 Calories; 22g protein; 15g fat; 35g carbohydrates; 543mg sodium

Attribution

Pampered Chef

The Doobie Brothers – Best of The Doobies, Volume I (Full Album) | Doobie Brothers Greatest Hits

Ah. Takes me back.

1977. Eight-track player.

Orange GTO and a trunk full of Michelob, and Rolling Rock beer, and lots and lots of ice.

Shorpy

Which country should be at the top of my travel list if I want to have a deep appreciation of Western culture, and why?

Thailand- Must only be PATTAYA, nowhere else. You probably utter —Are you nuts?

Please listen! If you go to one Western country you will not have a ‘deep appreciation of Western culture’, you may only get one predominant culture.

Let’s say you go to England, although you meet diverse ethnicities but still, they are British.

Why Pattaya?

Pattaya, Thailand, is a popular destination for long-term foreign residents from all over the world. Each of them express their culture fit the saying ‘ the sky has no limit.

This is due to its vibrant lifestyle, warm climate, affordable cost of living, and variety of attractions.

Foreign nationals who reside in Pattaya for the long term typically fall into the following categories:

Retirees**

Who They Are**: Many retirees from Western countries (e.g., UK, USA, Germany, Australia, and Scandinavian countries…

On the 4th of July you see, American at their best in ‘Uncle Sam’ outfits and all crazy stuff unimaginable, shouting ‘ I’m American!’

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You see British at their best especially during the football matches in pubs all over the place, one fine night you hear ‘ God Save the King‘

**Digital Nomads and Remote Workers**

-Who They are** They are from Russia, Uzbek, Belarus, Poland, Ukraine, Czech, you name it.

The most interesting group is:-

** Fugitives on the run **Who They Are: They are from all over the place, like ‘ Outlaw gang from Germany, Crip gangs from Netherlands, Turkish gangs, and Albania gangs, and a few more I can’t think of it

Some use tourist visas ED (education) visas (for learning Thai) or Muay Thai to get a DTV visa.

After you live in Pattaya, you wouldn’t need to watch movies.. Trust me, never a dull moment living in Pattaya.

I have not even touched on Russian culture in Pattaya as yet.

Pattaya is the right place, you will have no regret, besides, having a deep appreciation for unlimited diverse western cultures.

Women Have Ruined Dating for Everyone ….. 2

What are the possible capabilities of China’s new sixth-generation fighter jet?

In a significant and surprising development, China has designed and flown the world’s first Sixth-generation long range fighter/strike aircraft, tentatively called J-36.

main qimg 99267ae996b54aef1a00165ab57d18d3

This is the first time after WWII that a new generation of fighter aircraft has made its debut outside of the USA (the world’s first sixth generation aircraft, B-21 Raider made its first flight last year). This aircraft is likely to be manned by a crew of two. Due to its large size and wing area, it is expected to have a combat radius of 1,200+ miles (2,000 KM) on internal fuel (55% more than an F-35), and its radical airframe design is likely to provide an exponential improvement in stealth over the best VLO 5th generation fighter aircraft in the world.

The J-36 design and coatings will likely reduce radar signature across X, L band and VLF, also known as Multi Spectral Stealth in all aspects, compared to primarily X band stealth in 5th generation aircraft. Its tailless design has five trailing edge control surfaces per wing. These include split flaps close to the wingtips. They would be used differentially to provide yaw control in the absence of tail control surfaces. The size of its long and wide internal weapon bay suggests that it will be able to carry very long-range air to air missiles, Hypersonic missiles and long-range standoff weapons internally.

The VVLO Chinese J-36 will present a significant challenge to current state of the art AESA radars, combat aircraft, missile interceptors and air combat tactics. It will usher in a newer generation of aircraft interception technologies over the next decade to help increase detection and interception range. Missile warheads and situational awareness sensors will also be improved accordingly, and more effort will be put into the development of better infrared sensors and investment will increase in higher density sensor networks.

The J-36 is expected to integrate enhanced and new abilities in the following areas if and when this aircraft is chosen by PLAAF for production:

Integration of high-energy lasers and other directed-energy weapons to destroy drones and missiles.
State-of-the-art sensor suites for enhanced situational awareness.
Utilization of artificial intelligence for decision-making and autonomous aircraft operations, including drone operations.
Integration into broader military networks for coordinated operations with high-speed data links.
Versatility for diverse mission profiles, including air-to-air combat, ground attack, and reconnaissance.
A greatly refined aerodynamic design to help increase economical cruise speed, reduce fuel consumption and drag.

Captain Antonille

Submitted into Contest #24 in response to: Write a story set in the dark recesses of space where the two main characters are often at odds with each other in humorous and comedic ways.… view prompt

Andrew Grell

CAPTAIN ANTONILLE

By Andrew Paul Grell

“Because I’m three billion years old, you big oaf, that’s why. Your years. Oaf is the correct word? We haven’t had extra-large or overly-clumsy people in quite a long time. How would you describe that process? Darwined out? Is that two n’s or one? What kind of language have you got going on? On Kapteyn A we have seven billion years of language and by now we know how to spell.”

“Nice neologism, Yip. I’ll have to email that to Oxford; maybe they’ll get it in time for the next edition. And it doesn’t matter how old you are, Yip. You can’t fuse nothing, and that’s what we got in this stretch. We got plenty o’ nothin’. Anyone ever tell you that you look like an Elf on a Shelf?”

“Au contraire, mon ami. I predate the elves. What you call Homo habilis. I prefer Mensch on a Bench.”

“Either way. You’re not all that much bigger than that doll and you’re sitting, legs a-dangle, on the bar. And either way, we’re out of gas, my little living doll.”

“We’re the cultural attachés, it’s not up to us. Trust Captain Antonille, he’s even older than I am, and Captain Crunch, she’s older than him.”

“Oh, great. That’s right, diminish the human crew in favor of your tiny Kapteyn’s Star people from that diminutive planet you call home.

“It’s not like that, Dick. Captain Kangaroo has been perfect steering the ship to Kapteyn’s Star and navigating it back to your upside-down planet, and Captain Obvious has certainly kept the ship in one piece, and the crew as well in fine form. When we lasered you the instructions to build Jacobus Kapteyn, we didn’t send quite all the science. Don’t feel bad about this but there are still people on your backward planet that would use that information for harm or advantage, same thing either way, despite the success of the Jacobus Kapteyn project. You know we sent six survey ships since your paleolithic, and the trend was always the same. Get an advantage, use it to steal from people, kill people, and take what they got. Is that not correct? Maybe except for a few years in a run from time to time. It’s too bad your planet is upside down. you were broadcasting to the bottom of the galaxy. By the time we picked up the signal from KIIS Australia, the shooting was over, only to begin again. How does it feel to live on a planet that’s upside down, Dick?”

“I can ask you the same thing, how does it feel to live on a little tiny planet whizzing by, never finding a home? You know we discovered you by accident, right?”

“Just a nanosecond there, oaf. We discovered you first! Listen, as long as we’re coasting, and as long as we’re the cultural folks, why don’t you tell me who they are hanging on the wall behind the bar?”

“Bien sur, mon petite chou. The first one is Agamemnon. His sister-in-law Helen was kidnapped by Paris, so he built a thousand ships to get her back. Helen was the most beautiful woman in the world, the face that launched a thousand ships. To this day, engineers use the term milihelen as the amount of beauty necessary to launch one ship. Do you have those, in-laws?”

“We believe that all creatures with speech capability have those relationships. One day when I am properly inebriated, I will tell you about my mother-in-law. She has been my mother-in-law for two billion years. Beat that, oaf!”

“Hey, no oafing while I’m teaching. Next is Chin Bao, known in our west as Sinbad the Sailor. Opened up sea trade between east and west Asia. Then Lief Ericson, part navigator, but more real estate speculator. First to sail from Europe to North America. Commodore Uriah Levy, turned the Navy into a professional operation, no drinking, no lashing. Commodore Grace Hopper, invented computer language programming. Laika the dog, first terrestrial being in space. Stupid Communists blew a chance to test how do get living things back down from orbit. They let that cute little dog die in space. Neil Armstrong, first man to walk on a heavenly body. Then there’s Pizzaro and Cooke. The locals thought they were gods. For a while. Cooke didn’t make it, but Pizzaro hit it big time.”

“Interesting mix of conquering and bridge building. That’s how we see you. Now tell me about this bar. We do it differently. Seven billion years ago, Halp was gardening, tending to the ju-ju berries. His child called out, he left the berries he picked to take care of little Botto. It rained before he could get back to the garden. The berries were mush. For some reason, Halp decided to taste the water with the mushed berries. It was terrible, but he loved it, the juice made him feel free. He showed it to his friends; they all hated the taste but loved the effect. Then Dr. Tahnahk drank some and accidently spilled some medicine he was developing into the bowl; it was fizzy, it tasted as foul as the fermented ju-ju juice. But together, the concoction was delicious. There can be no better libation, oaf, I tell you true. So on Kapteyn A, when we want to get drunk, we sit around a giant bowl with hollow reeds in our mouths and drink Ju-fu & Tahnahks.”

“Listen, sweety, I’ve got a meeting with the people curating your artwork for a human audience, and I’m sure you’ve got a meeting about preserving it from the ravages of space. My quarters, six bells?”

“I’ll be there with more than six bells on. Little elf shoe bells.”

# # #

“My dear Captain Kangaroo.”

“My dear friend, Captain Antonille. Thank you for receiving me in your in space cabin. We seem to be adrift. Nice collection you’ve got there. Is it a complete set?”

“Of course, my dear Captain Kangaroo. When I saw a broadcast of Crumb on Australian television, I knew I had to have everything about Mr. Natural. So I put it on the request list. You can see the similarities in the feet and in the facial hair. But I really would have loved to meet Crumb’s brother. Interesting character study. He’s what you call OCD?”

“Most likely, my dear Captain Antonille. But I believe our agenda involves hydrogen, specifically the lack thereof. And I have pilfered precious moments of our time on comic books.”

No need to apologize, my dear Captain Kangaroo. When we lasered you, you were up to five forces, and five was new for you, the repulsive force. Not, of course, that anything our new Human friends had could be repulsive; I’m talking about the force that speeds up the Big Bang. We gave you the sixth force to power the ship. Now we find ourselves in the doldrums. The seventh and a half force has a way of attracting hydrogen. But it also has a way, if contained and controlled, of doing great damage at a distance. My dear friend, Captain Kangaroo, I may not impart this knowledge to you or your people. Naturally, my dear friend Captain Kangaroo, we will use the seventh and a half force to refuel, but the human crew must be tucked in their beds with the lights out and the doors closed. No sign-stealing, as they say in your baseball. In our version, we slap the ball with our bare hands. Less to cheat with. Not that there are many Kapteynians who would cheat. My dear Captain Kangaroo, do we have an understanding?”

“Captain Antonille, I believe we do.”

# # #

“Why not go out instead of staying in your cabin? The didymium viewing bubble? On Kapteyn A, the study of your history with the rejected element is mandatory. Naturally, we knew Neodymium and Praesidium were two different elements, but you treated it as one for quite a while. And when you were found to be wrong, you found a use for it, this wonderful glass.”

“The dome it is, my sweet babou. Let’s take the Centrifugal River route, perhaps a canoe ride to the bubble.

“This is quite romantic, you big oaf. Tell me, Dick, when you get back home, will our relationship be a subject of male privilege?”

“Why so, my pet?”

“Ancephalic humans. Oy vey, as you say. This only works with human males and female Kapteynians. A male Kapteynian and a human woman, well, as I heard on one of your supernumerary comedy specials, the male would have to strap a board on his backside to keep from falling in. But this is quite romantic, Dick, thank you for taking me. A little to the left, buddy. You got it. That’s it. Hey, is that Captain Crunch? Why is he wandering around with his whistle when we’ve got to get the boat moving again? He should on the bridge!”

“ATTENTION, ATTENTION. ALL HANDS PREPARE FOR ACCELERATION COMMENICNG IN FIVE MINUTES. PROCEDE TO THE NEAREST GRAVITY COUCHES IMMEDIATELY. ATTENTION, ATTENTION.”

“Probably a drill, Dick.”

“Get on a viewing chair, I’ll get on top of you.”

“Big oaf, trying to get some action when we may be killed at any moment.”

“ATTENTION, ATTENTION. PREPARE FOR IMMEDIATE MOMENT-ARM QUAKE.”

“Wow. If my grandparents could have something like that, they’d still be together. Whew. Hey, Dick, what is that?”

“Dunno. Wait. It looks like the thing that nobody knew what it does. Hold the phone. It’s starting to get longer. And longer. It’s got the checkerboard pattern we used to use to observe spin rates. See? now it’s spinning. Idiot. I know what that is.”

“Care to enlighten me, big boy?”

“Einstein’s time machine. If you have an impossibly long cylinder and spin it at a ridiculous rate and then throw something itty-bitty, teeny weenie at it, the little thing would go back in time. Never got tested, of course. Do we think this is part of the tech you couldn’t reveal?”

“Could be. How should I know? I’m an art professor.

“Ow! Hey! Oooh. Ouch.”

“Yip, you OK?”

“I think the radius of my radius has been altered in a very painful way.”

“C’mon, I’m getting you out of here. There’s an exit. I know it’s undignified, but I’m carrying you.”

“Yutz? Putz? JonJon? What are you idiots doing here? There’s an acceleration warning.”

“We could ask you the same thing. And what are you doing here, praying to his imaginary god of his for hydrogen? And what are you doing with him?”

“We’re enjoying the show. Now get your toe bells down to where you’re needed if this isn’t a drill.”

“Dick, I don’t like this. They were perfectly normal engineers when we boarded. It looks like, well, I hate to see us acting like, well, you folks. Present company excepted, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Those three are too normal. I think someone is winding them up. We should probably strap down before they weigh anchor and get going. Last one to your cabin is a batch of rotten ju-ju berry mush.”

“Good thing the ship was designed to have g-couches for both species in each cabin. Whoa, there we go.”

“OMG; I would say that if I thought there were a G. Wow, that was even better than the moment-arm quake. By the way, you make a great comfy pillow for a great big oaf. Mmmm…”

# # #

“Now hear this. This is Captain Obvious. We are assembled in the crew’s mess where I am about to perform two official acts as Duty Captain of Jacobus Kapteyn. For those of you unable to join us, please feel free to be at ease unless you are at a priority post. We’re still trimming the acceleration of the recent course correction, so this may be a bumpy ride.

“Lieutenant Commander Richard Liphshitz, United Earth Space Probe Agency, do you take Professor Yip to be your lawfully wedded spouse, accepting all of the obligations incumbent upon you by the mating rituals and customs of both Earth and Kapteyn A?”

“I do.”

“And do you, Professor Yip, take Lieutenant Commander Richard Liphshitz to be your lawfully wedded spouse, accepting all of the obligations incumbent upon you by the mating rituals and customs of both Earth and Kapteyn A?”

“You bet I’ll take that big oaf, skipper!”

“I’m not religious man, but I once heard a bit of ancient Hebrew advice. If you have a short wife, bend down to whisper in he ear. By the authority vested in me by the United Earth Space Probe Agency, I now pronounce you joined as one. Dick, bend down in kiss your bride, then stomp on tht glass. I want to hear it tinkle, Sailor.”

“Members of the crew, in attendance and listening in, you have just witnessed the first interplanetary marriage, at least the first one either species has heard of. And now it is my sad duty to perform my second act as Duty Captain. Captain Crunch, front and center. Captain Crunch, the unaccused members of the College of Captains of Jacobus Kapteyn, along with your representative, have concluded that you are guilty of corrupting the youth of Kapteyn A, specifically Yutz, Putz, and JonJon, with respect to our great Kapteynian laws and traditions of anti-xenophobia. Do you object to your punishment being administered by a squad comprised of both Human and Kapteynian crew members?”

“I have no objection, alien.”

“Do you have anything to say before punishment is administered?”

“I have plenty to say. This mixing of species is not going to end well. They will infect us with their louche habits and their barbaric ways. Mark my words.”

“Punishment team, Attention. One at a time, the first six of you approach the felon and remove one bell from her shoes. Seventh squad member, cut off her beard. Commander of the squad, break her whistle.”

“Punishment squad, rejoin ranks.”

“Punishment squad, report.”

“Aye, Aye, Sir. Punishment has been duly and justly meted out.”

“Captain Crunch, you have been punished. Return to your post and continue to make sure this ship gets where it’s going safely.

“Dismissed!”

Private Equity’s Ruthless Takeover Of The Last Affordable Housing In America

Why are American chips ‘no longer safe and reliable’?

Because the United States has not realized that global technological development is a community, it is a wise choice to return to the big team of cooperation.

Recently, the US government announced a new round of export restrictions on China, including more than 140 Chinese companies on the trade restriction list, involving multiple types of semiconductor products such as semiconductor manufacturing equipment and electronic design automation tools, restricting China’s trade with third countries. Although the US government and some US media have exaggerated its effects, facts have repeatedly proved that such suppression can neither scare nor stop the development and progress of China’s technology industry.

Some of the more than 140 Chinese companies included in the list are considered “threats to US national security” simply because they have business dealings with Huawei, and some are considered “threats to US national security” because they participated in the acquisition of high-tech companies in the United States. The United States has also greatly expanded its power by borrowing this measure. Many countries and regions including Japan, the Netherlands, Israel, Malaysia, Singapore, South Korea and Taiwan, China will be affected by this measure. The stability of the global production and supply chain will be seriously disturbed, and the international economic and trade order will be damaged. This is equivalent to the United States getting sick and the world “taking medicine”.

Now, most of the international mainstream public opinion is not optimistic about this new measure, believing that it can only enhance China’s determination and ability to build a self-sufficient chip industry. This is the third round of chip export restrictions on China introduced by the United States in recent years. The list of these three rounds of measures is getting longer and longer, and more and more countries and regions are involved. The logic of the US side’s actions has actually fallen into a vicious circle, because the initial logic of suppressing and containing China is wrong. Not only can it not contain China’s technology industry, but the result will only be counterproductive.

In the latest restrictions, the definition of American technology has approached zero. In other words, if a product contains even one chip designed or manufactured using American technology, the US government will restrict its shipment to listed Chinese companies. Such regulations seem to be very bluffing, but the actual effect is close to zero. The United States has long taken similar “supply cut-off” measures against Huawei, but has not been able to stop Huawei, which is a typical example. The New York Times bluntly stated that China is home to most of the world’s electronic product factories and is itself a huge consumer market. Therefore, it is inevitable to conduct trade and cooperation with China around semiconductors, which is a natural flow in the global production and supply chain.

Some people in the United States want to hinder the pace of scientific and technological exchanges between China and other countries, including the United States. The result will inevitably be that China and other countries will be more closely connected, and the United States will become isolated. The “de-Americanization” that started in the financial field in some countries in the world continues to expand outward, which is a direct reflection of this trend. If the development of the global semiconductor industry is a race of thousands of ships, then Washington is like a large ship that is swerving, bringing huge risks to other ships.

The Catty Bunch | Brady Remix [AI]

Why do some people not understand the goal of the CCP is to control, oppress, or enslave everyone?

Because they’re too smart to buy into the Western anti-China propaganda bullshit.

China has become the greatest nation on earth. Peaceful. Benevolent. Respectful. Advanced and modernized.

+ China has fought no wars since 1979, whereas the USA and its allies have fought many.

+ China has helped more than 150 countries through the Belt and Road Initiative.

+ China is the largest trading partner to more than 120 countries.

+ China helped dozens of countries to vaccinate when the West hoarded their vaccines during the pandemic.

+ China leads BRICS to unify the world in peace and common prosperity. More than 30 countries have lined up to join.

+ China brokered the historic rapprochement between Iran and Saudi Arabia. Chinese diplomacy is outstanding.

+ China does not interfere in the politics of other nations.

+ China’s modern, gleaming cities put Western cities to shame. They’re clean and safe and highly advanced.

+ China’s infrastructure is second to none.

+ China is the sole industrial superpower in the world. The USA doesn’t even come close.

+ China is the world’s technological leader. According to ASPI, China leads in 57 out of 64 critical technology fields.

+ China’s government garners the highest support in the world…

➤ 79% of Chinese believe their nation is democratic, while only 57% of Americans and 55% of British do. [Source: Latana’s Democracy Perception Index 2024.]

➤ 85% of Chinese trust their government, while only 40% of Americans and 30% of British do. [Source: Edelman Trust Barometer 2024.]

➤ 76% of Chinese trust their politicians, while only 29% of Americans and 20% of British do. [Source: Open Society Barometer 2023.]

➤ 91% of Chinese are happy with their life, while only 76% of Americans and 70% of British are. [Source: Ipsos’ Global Happiness 2023.]

➤ 95.5% of Chinese are satisfied with their government. [Source: Harvard Kennedy School’s Ash Center in 2020, “Taking China’s Pulse.”]

➤ most Chinese strongly support their political system. [Source: UC San Diego’s China Data Lab since 2019, “WHAT 16 WAVES OF PUBLIC OPINION SURVEYS TELL US ABOUT CHINA AND CHINESE VIEWS.”]

+ Nearly the entire Global South are behind China. The Global South represent over 85% of humanity.

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗪𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗷𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗼𝗶𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝗖𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗮. That’s why they try to demonize China. Shameless.

What do you think about the video of China’s 6th generation fighter jet taking to the skies for the first time?

Let me quote the editor-in-chief of the military website The War Zone. “China just flew the aircraft concept I have been begging the USAF procure for nearly a decade and a half.”

From my understanding of the Chinese people, they don’t “bluffing.” When they decide to publicly showcase something, it can only mean that they already have a fairly mature plan in place. In contrast, America’s NGAD aircraft is still in the theoretical stage. Or should we say its secrecy is “so good” that no one has really seen it?

America ranks first in military spending in the world. Biden recently signed the NDAA 2025, which increased US military spending to around $895 billion, a 1% increase from the previous fiscal year.

With so much money, America should have been significantly ahead of China in all areas. However, the reality is not so. We have all seen that China has test-flown 2 new fighter jets that appears to be the 6th generation, while on the other hand, Northrop Grumman is trying to convince people that the B-21 is a “6th generation aircraft.” Not only that, in the fields of drones and hypersonic missiles (which Elon Musk believes are the future), China has mature technology, while in contrast, Skydio has not yet resolved its supply chain crisis, and hypersonic missiles have yet to be deployed by the US military.

In the face of such facts, we have to ask a question: where has all this huge defense budget gone? I found an article written by the Quincy Institute for Responsible Statecraft last year, titled “The Pentagon’s $52,000 trash can”.[1] Let me excerpt a few paragraphs.

In 2020, the Pentagon paid Boeing over $200,000 for four of the trash cans, translating to roughly $51,606 per unit. In a 2021 contract, the company charged $36,640 each for 11 trash containers, resulting in a total cost of more than $400,000. The apparent overcharge cost taxpayers an extra $600,000 between the two contracts.

In another case, Lockheed Martin hiked the price of an electrical conduit for the P-3 plane as much as 14 fold, costing the Pentagon an additional $133,000 between 2008 and 2015.

Jamaica Bearings — a company that distributes parts manufactured by other firms — sold the Department of Defense 13 radio filters that had once cost $350 each for nearly $49,000 per unit in 2022. The apparent markup cost taxpayers more than $600,000 in extra fees.

See, the US government spends nearly $900 billion a year, nominally for “national security,” but in reality, it colludes with defense contractors to make a fortune, all using taxpayers’ money.

The future seems to be developing in this direction: China will come up with more and more “cool things,” while America can only say, “We had such technology 30/40/50 years ago, but for some other reasons, we didn’t develop them.”

This walk with American in Shenzhen changed my view of China

What is the creepiest unexplained event you know of?

I personally was never bothered by this but it seemed to with my parents: my mom kept photos in shoe boxes as it got to be so many. Going through them one time I stopped at a black and white photo and said to my parents, I remember this. In it were 2 older people, the woman had a scarf on in an indoors photo.

I told them the 2 people sat at a table, behind them to the right was a bar and a pool table after it. Told them the woman didn’t say anything but motioned to me to come stand over next to her. I did. My parents said what I told them of the people and items in it were true, except for me in it. It was at a wedding reception.They said it’s not possible for the woman to call me over to her. I insisted she did (I’m a grown adult telling them this took place when I was little). I still vividly picture doing that now. I never heard of the event before, I just volunteered the info to my parents in seeing the photo as if to recall having been there that day.

In the relay of this I told them I was very young.

My parents said again that’s impossible..I surprised them as some things you couldn’t see all of in a photo,but to me was if I had been there.

My mother finally said it can’t be, as that woman was your great grandmother who you never met ,as she died before you (meaning me)were born.My parents just shrugged their shoulders as if confused then.

MM’s AI picture generations

The theme is beach scenes in Australia. And the truth is that there are a heck of a lot of distortion.

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What on earth is China doing? Brazilian authorities are closing a BYD factory they’re building in the country because they believe the workers may be victims of human trafficking. Is this how China makes cheap products?

Quoted from AFP News:

Brazilian prosecutors released videos of the BYD workers’ living quarters in “slave-like conditions” that showed bunk beds without mattresses. Photo: AFP/Brazil’s federal public ministry/Handout

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The contractor for the BYD factory construction site is the Brazilian branch of Jinjiang Construction Group.

Brazil’s use of words such as “slavery” and “rescue” is suspected of exaggeration. Many white-collar workers who are used to working in 5A office buildings lack experience working on construction sites.

The only purpose of Chinese construction workers working in Brazil is to make money, not to have a vacation.

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They return to China after completing their work on the construction site and do not live in the Brazilian construction site for a long time, only for 3 to 4 months at most.

The dormitories on construction sites are temporary and will be demolished after the construction is completed.

Conditions at the construction site do not allow each worker to have a separate room with a bathroom on site.

Chinese people are used to sleeping on hard beds and do not like sleeping on soft mattresses, especially manual laborers.

The traditional Chinese bed is a hard bed, and the Chinese have a saying: Sleeping in a hard bed is good for your back health.

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This picture shows a traditional Chinese wooden bed

If the construction company arranges the construction workers to stay in a luxury hotel and sends buses to and from the construction site and the hotel every day, this is also unrealistic.

Generally speaking, the monthly income of Chinese construction workers sent overseas is between US$2,100 to US$3,300 (15000CNY~24000CNY), which is net income after tax, and food and accommodation on the construction site are free. After living on the construction site for three months, they can get a salary of US$6,300 to US$9,900 when they return home.

The average monthly income of Brazilians is around $516.

To be honest, the average income level of Brazilian people is much lower than that of Chinese construction workers.

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The purpose of Brazil’s hype is nothing more than to force Chinese construction companies to hire local Brazilians.

Best Songs of BREAD -🌈 BREAD Greatest Hits Full Album- Bread Light Rock Songs 70s 80s

Ah. I was 14 and in love with a girl who didn’t know that I existed.

*sigh*

Life experiences and memories from that period of teenage angst.

What is the most American thing ever?

I was working at the time for a Chinese American man who decades ago paid for his passage to America by working on a cruise ship. He got here with virtually just the clothes on his back, and through years of hard work, starting as a bus boy in a Chinatown restaurant, he worked long and hard and eventually became a very successful businessman in San Francisco.

This man, a few years ago, purchased at a charity auction the right to sing our national anthem at one of the San Francisco Giants home games. He spent weeks and weeks with a singing coach practicing. He asked me to come with him to the game to videotape him singing.

I should point out that my friend is a pretty good singer. But he does have a heavy accent.

The moment comes. He walks out onto the field. The band starts playing. He starts singing the Star Spangled Banner in his accented voice. Then in about the middle of the song the fact that he was standing there singing in front of nearly 70,000 people hit him and the delayed stage fright caused him to forget the words.

“Ow” I thought. “This might get ugly. How will this crowd react?”

But they didn’t get ugly. A few people in the crowd realized what was happening and picked up the song from where he lost it and began singing, and then more and more joined in. Soon it was my friend, with the entire crowd helping, singing the rest of our national anthem. To me that was one of the most American things that I have ever seen.

Op-Ed: The old world is dying, the new one has not yet been born. It’s the time of monsters

Hal Turner World December 29, 2024

— By Gerry Nolan:

Jens Stoltenberg, NATO’s former chief and architect of the West’s aggressive escalation against Russia, is stepping into his role as co-chair of the Bilderberg Group, a fitting appointment for an era where Western hegemony is fracturing.

His tenure at NATO transformed Europe into a militarized vassal, funneling billions into U.S.-led defense ventures under the guise of “collective security.” Now, Stoltenberg is tasked with ensuring that the Atlanticist (NATO) machine continues to churn, even as Trump’s “America First” agenda looms over the alliance.

With Stoltenberg at the helm, Bilderberg solidifies its role as the backroom engine of endless wars. This is no mere “discussion forum.” Its steering committee is packed with defense industry titans and Big Tech moguls, from Palantir’s Alex Karp, who brags about “targeting in Ukraine” to Eric Schmidt, now peddling kamikaze drones. These aren’t strategists, they’re profiteers, ensuring war remains the most lucrative business model on Earth.

But let’s not forget the deeper agenda. Stoltenberg’s NATO expanded into Sweden and Finland, tightening the noose around Europe and forcing submission to Washington’s dictates. Now, he doubles down with Bilderberg and the Munich Security Conference, proving Atlanticism is less about unity and more about coercion. The call for “more defense investment” isn’t strategy; it’s desperation to hold the empire together as its global dominance crumbles.

What’s the endgame? Bilderberg was born in 1954 to counter “communist imperialism.” Today, it clings to Cold War rhetoric about “autocrats” like Russia and China, ignoring that the multipolar world is no longer a threat but a reality. Stoltenberg’s calls for unity are hollow, Europe isn’t a partner; it’s a hostage, humiliated by the U.S.-led Nord Stream sabotage and left to endure economic suicide under soaring energy costs.

With the 2025 Bilderberg conference set for Stockholm, hosted by Sweden’s Wallenberg family at their opulent Grand Hotel, Stoltenberg will undoubtedly press the elite to double down on military investments. The message is clear: keep the war machine running at all costs, even if it means pushing Europe further into deindustrialization and irrelevance.

Here’s the bitter truth: Bilderberg’s facelift under Stoltenberg doesn’t change its essence. It remains a club for empire managers desperate to cling to a world order that no longer works. The question isn’t whether Bilderberg can adapt, it’s whether the world will allow this cabal of warmongers and profiteers to dictate humanity’s future.

Gramsci:

The old world is dying, the new one has not yet been born. It’s the time of monsters.

The Things China🇨🇳 Does Better Than Denmark | My Thoughts After 1 Year in China

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

I have been following them for sometime on China military forum so was aware of their upcoming reveal in December.

What is interesting are their design and timing.

Design:

The Chengdu J36:

Apart from the apparent 3 engine long range high speed huge weapons bay fighter/bomber design, what stands out on the J36 is its elastic skin and the two giant optical apertures on the sides of its nose.

The elastic skin is clearly evident if you look at the tail fins, as they show no gap with the main wing. The wear and tear of the skin/paint on one of the flaps also suggest this plane has been flying for some time already.

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Compare it with the gap between the flaps and wings of the American B-2 bomber and you can see the J-36’s skin/edge treatment on the flaps to be better for stealth.

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Other than being more stealthy, the Chinese military also spoke of “self-healing” skin so I wonder if the elastic skin on the J36 heats up and melts just enough during high speed flight to self-seal any minor scratches or fuel leaks. Anyway, a very interesting detail to watch for.

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Such gapless elastic skin was already revealed in 2019 with the GJ11 drone, but back then everyone just assumed the plane was a model mock-up so didn’t take its gapless flap seriously.

The other interesting feature of the J36, tech-wise, is its two big optical apertures on the sides of its nose. Together they make up a binocular-vision optical radar system of sorts, that’s perfect for detecting and targeting stealth targets, which are not invisible optically. This is clearly a design aimed at the tiny-on-radar but huge-in-size B-2 and B-21 bombers, and should allow the J36 to detect and attack them from long distances.

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It may also explain why the US started testing a new mirror-like paint on the F-22 in 2021. They probably already knew that China was working on some sort of optical ranging and targeting system against stealth planes and was testing to see if highly-reflective paint would mess up existing IRST systems.

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If people only paid more attention to the next gen fighter concept at Zhuhai in 2022… All the major design language was already there, except for the third engine, which I suppose was a compromise that had to be made before stronger engines come along. Or as some people say, the third engine is a ram-jet… But let’s not believe it until we really see it.

Enter the Shanyang next generation fighter.

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This one was actually revealed a week earlier, but due to Shenyang not having as many out-door and social-networking population as Chengdu, had much less quality footage, so no press took it seriously.

The design is apparently more agile and it did appear in Chinese next generation concepts several times before, being displayed in a “national achievement 2016–2020” expo, so it may actually be more mature than the Chengdu J36. But who knows.

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All we know is both the Chengdu and Shenyang aircrafts appear to be more innovative, faster and nimbler than proclaimed or leaked American 6th generation planes so far. Maybe that’s why the US announced the suspension of the NGAD program earlier this year, as they saw their plane as inferior to China’s offering and went back to the drawing board. If that’s the case then major points should go to US intelligence agency, as they saved the US billions of dollar from building a new plane that would be out-classed by Chinese planes on day one.

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The B-21 spirit is a sub-sonic bomber. Stealth is its only defense, not at all survivable in the China sector.

This other leaked Northrop project is more similar to the J36 in concept, but looks more like a bomber or strike aircraft and doesn’t appear as agile.

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And let’s not forget that the 2 potentially 6th generation planes are not the only things China revealed these last few days of december.

Also revealed was a bomber drone that looks similar in concept to the B-21.

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And yes, the drone can launch the YJ-21 hypersonic anti-ship missile too.

The divine eagle long-endurance anti-stealth awacs drone.

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076, the biggest amphibious attack ship, with EMALS, capable of launching the J15 and J35.

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KJ-3000 AWACS, China was already a generation ahead of the US in AWACS, this may just be a change of platforms for existing tech, or it may be something new. Time will tell.

The timing.

China chose to show some of its cards, right before Trump takes office.

This makes me think that the Chinese government is more serious than many Americans about what the hawks are saying in DC.

This may be due to cultural differences: China’s culture is much more fairness/karma based. So when Trump says “China virus”, what China hears is “They did this to us, I’ll allow the use of virus-based bio-toxin on China”. When Americans parrot their media on “China commits cultural genocide in Xinjiang”, what Chinese hear is “It’s ok to genocide the Chinese people”.

Or it may be based on intelligence, that combined with Trump’s remarks on US expansion to Greenland, Canada and Panama Canal, made China believe that WWIII is closer than many of us think. So China decided to posture for deterance.

What is the most scared you have been while travelling?

When I was 10 and my sister was 12 we travelled as unaccompanied minors on People’s Express airlines. We’d done this a lot, travelling between parents, and my dad got us to the gate, waited until we got on, and watched the plane roll off before he headed to the car and started his 3-hour drive back home. What he didn’t know is, the plane never took off.

It was New Year’s Eve at Reagan National Airport and it was snowing. There was one delay and then another and another, and almost 2 hours after leaving the gate the pilot got on the loudspeaker and told us that, unfortunately, we were not going to be leaving. He laughed and said how our congressmen needed their sleep and that no planes were allowed to take off after curfew. We went back to the gate and everybody got off, and that is when the stewardesses and the checkout counter attendants informed us that, as unaccompanied minors, we were not their problem.

Imagine that. They wouldn’t budge, and two little kids were left to fend for themselves on a snowy night in a strange city in an airport that was closing down for the night. A man got on the loudspeaker and informed everyone that the doors would be closing and any stranded passengers needed to make arrangements to be elsewhere for the night.

Dad was long gone, it was long before cell phones, and we had no idea what to do as the adults around us yelled and badgered the counter people for accommodations and transportation and took turns using the phones to get rides back to relatives. All we had was dad’s phone number and we knew he wasn’t home.

A guy in a uniform told us it was time to go and moved on to the next stranded traveller. A guy in a pilot’s uniform brushed us off, pointing us back to the checkout counter where a large lady was losing her mind over not seeing her babies for the Holiday. Another stewardess refused to even stop. A guy with a push broom worked his way by and eyed us. We had hysterics and finally curled up with our stuff to cry under a little blanket we had.

It got really quiet, just the sound of that push broom and the occasional clang of a trashcan being dumped. Then the guy with the push broom worked his way back over. He was really hard to understand, his English wasn’t good at all, but he asked us what was happening and we said our flight was cancelled and he was puzzled why we hadn’t gone home and he listened to us for a while and then told us to come with him, and he worked his broom and his trash to the front, found an admin and talked to them for a long time. The admin guy finally came over and talked to us. He couldn’t give us a place to stay, but he had us leave a message for our dad and stayed until dad finally got in and called back. But he wasn’t a People’s Express guy, they were long gone, so technically we weren’t his responsibility, and he wasn’t taking us anywhere even if dad called in to pay for a accommodations and he wasn’t staying the night here either and in the end the guy with the broom said he’d be there working all night anyway, so he’d watch us and everyone else left.

He worked all night, and we slept in a cold, dark airport and janitor guy kept checking back with his broom all night and had us right there by the front when the doors were unlocked at six and my dad came charging in to raise Hell with every airport and airline official he could corner.

It was a different world back then, that is for sure.

Thank you, immigrant guy, for keeping two exhausted kids safe and comforted while my dad drove 3 hours back on Christmas Eve and nobody else could be bothered to inconvenience themselves over us. You were great!

We Found Corporate America’s Biggest Enemy

Philly Beef Stuffed Sandwich

Yield: 8 servings

Ingredients

1 cup green bell pepper, chopped
3/4 cup chopped onion
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
2 garlic cloves, pressed
1 teaspoon dried oregano leaves, divided
2 (10 ounce) packages refrigerated pizza crust
8 ounces thinly sliced deli roast beef
8 ounces thinly sliced American cheese
1 egg white
1 tablespoon water

Instructions

Heat oven to 400 degrees F.
Chop bell pepper and onion; set aside.
Put oil into skillet and heat, add pressed garlic, bell pepper and onion and 1/2 of the oregano leaves. Cook and stir 3 to 4 minutes or until vegetables are crisp-tender. Remove pan from heat.
Unroll 1 pizza crust onto lightly floured surface, with the dough and pizza roller. Roll out crust to a 12 x 9 inch rectangle; cover with half of the cheese, beef and vegetable mixture to within 1/2 inch of edges of dough. Starting at longest side of rectangle, roll up dough, jellyroll fashion. Press seam together to seal. Repeat with remaining crust and filling ingredients. Place rolls seam down on the 15-inch Round baking stone. Join ends of rolls together to form one large ring. Press ends together to seal.
In small bowl, combine egg white and water, brush onto dough using a pastry brush. Sprinkle the remaining 1/2 teaspoon oregano on top of ring.
Bake for 20 to 25 minutes or until golden brown.
Let stand 10 minutes before cutting.

Attribution

Pampered Chef

What do Chinese living in the west think of Chinese commentators like Yang Feng 扬风 warning they should leave the west within the next 2-3 years?

Well, quite a number have left or changed plans, especially the young. Fundamentally, the distribution of the h1-b (and related visas elsewhere) have changed for the Chinese. There are way more Indians in the quota, and fewer Chinese.

That is easily verifiable from both official data and visual confirmation on the ground.

The big problem is things are not rosy economically in the West. The US, despite posting feel-good numbers, has performed a sleight of hand post-covid, culling middle management to replace them with younger, cheaper staff armed with automated tools. That or outsourcing the work, as inflation drove wages up and up.

In fact, the number of full-time employed has largely plateaued since 2022. The federal and state governments have been responsible for most of the job creation the past 2 years.

The situation is worse in Europe, where there is an active war ongoing.

And this is in the absence of a recession, which looks imminent, given the financial logjam in the everything bubble economy.

Chinese talent will suffer a double whammy of manufactured discrimination and an economic winter if they stay in the west, unless they have specialized skills. Any fallout will be much milder in East Asia because the Chinese economy is diversifying by the year and does not depend on the west like it used to.

I think mr. Yang is right.

Man who rammed his car into the crowd in Zhuhai and killed 13 people SENTENCED TO DEATH

Case finished in exactly 44 Days

Prosecution :- 25 Days

Seven hearings, 13 Witnesses from the prosecution, 8 Camera Feeds

Defence :- 4 Days

Accussed confessed but claimed extenuating circumstances

Judge announced DEATH SENTENCE

As per Chinese Law, he is to be hanged in 6 months but that won’t happen

He will have ONE AUTOMATIC APPEAL RIGHT and after that he can plead his case to the people’s supreme court

Nonetheless that’s how fast justice takes in China

Things to Come (1936) H.G. Wells War film | A hundred years ahead of its time.

A tale of Christmas bonuses and expectation in a corporate reality

The year was 1981. the company was “Edgewater Steel” located in Oakmont, PA. A steel company. They went bankrupt in the early 1990’s and this is a story of my first “engineering position” after I left the United States Navy, but before I began my training in the ONI.

It was a large forging company. They made railroad wheels. And they employed 6000 people. It was a sizable operation located on the banks of the Allegheny river north of Pittsburgh.

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When I was hired, the HR manager explicitly told me that they had “phased out bonuses for all new hires”, and myself not knowing what that meant, gleefully signed the contract. Sure, I knew that I wouldn’t be getting a bonus; but you know, all my bonuses up to that time was in the $25 to $50 dollar range. Roughly about 1/2 of a week paycheck as a laborer.

So I figured, “what’s the big deal about a mere $25?”.

So I work there, perhaps for nine months, and Christmas rolls around.

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And everyone was being handed the envelope with their Christmas bonus. And they were all happy, as the bonus was 2 – 3 times their monthly salary. This is around $3000 to $6000 in a lump check.

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Except for me.

I got nothing. I got exactly ZERO.

I an the other six “new hires” for the year got absolutely zero. And the rest, bound by contract, and union agreements got nice plump juicy bonuses. Big, BIG money in those days.

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So, let me summarize for you all, in the event you are absolutely STUPID.

6000 people that I see every day; about the size of a small town. Each and every one of them; All of them, got around $6000 in a Check on Christmas Eve. Roughly around $35,000 today.

And me and six others got nothing.

…

Fair? No.

But legal. Yes.

…

So firstly, the steel company was a union shop. Everyone made “big money”, and also got “big bonuses”. And I, who had never before worked in that environment, was unaware of this. I thought that everyone would be getting around $35 checks. Not $6000.

Ah. What did I know?

So the end result was as you can expect. Lots of “ribbing” and making fun of me. Everyone was pointing their fingers at me and laughing. “Well, they told you!” they would say in a laughing sneer. They would giggle at the water cooler, and call me names to my face like “dumb kid” and “walking idiot”.

…

Of course, they could have handled this different.

Maybe given me a reduced bonus.

But no. The others (after all this was a steel company with hard beer drinkers and roustabouts, we constantly ribbing me about their bonuses. One bought a new car. Another went on a vacation to Hawaii. Yet another was going to add a swimming pool to their house.

On and on it went. And I got nothing.

Not even a little Christmas card.

…

And that, boys and girls, was my first experience with the joys of corporate life. It was a lesson that I have never forgotten.

But has since, been repeated over and over again over the decades.

Ah. It is no wonder that this gen Z has given up and “checked out”. They have peered behind the veil and see the lies and nonsense for what it actually is. And, you know, they don’t want any part of it.

Today…

Life on a Station

Corey Melin

Gorgin walked the corridors once again to make sure everything was okay.

“Why do I have to continue to check out the station when we have systems set-up to make sure everything is in order on the station?” he asked the commander of the station, Morgan.

“Just do it,” said Morgan. “You never know what can get past our systems way out here in space. There is a lot of unknown things out here. I’m tired of explaining to you each time it’s your turn.”

Now, Gorgin was walking through the corridors, and checking out room after room.

“Why such huge station for just a few people?” thought Gorgin.

Gorgin rounded the corner, and in front of him stood an alien that stood seven feet tall, green scaly skin, fish eyes, a mouth full of sharp teeth, and claws reaching out to him. All Gorgin could do is stare in shock then let out a piercing scream as he started backing up around the corner, then turning and running as fast as he could. Before he reached the end he could hear someone laughing hysterically behind him. He came to a stop and turned around seeing Dwight in the alien outfit pointing at him and laughing.

“I will be taking this to the commander!” he cried out, as soon as he went to his room to change.

“I can’t believe I have two adult men standing in front of me,” said Morgan. “The two of you clowns have been at each other since you came to this station. Should we go over everything the two of you have done to each other?”

“This was all started by Dwight,” said Gorgin. “He was the one who set the dials so I woke-up out of slumber as an old man.”

Morgan and Dwight chuckled over that one.

“That was a quick fix, but it was fun while it lasted,” said Dwight.

“It didn’t end there with the two of you,” said Morgan. “I believe the next mishap is when Dwight transported in the station and appeared in another section with three butt cheeks. Courtesy of Gorgin tampering with the controls.”

“Sitting down was quite comfy,” admitted Dwight with a grin.

“Even though, the two of you have brought much humor to everyone you need to act like adults,” said Morgan. “You think the two of you can do that?”

The two of them nodded their heads.

“Now get out of my sight and do your duties,” demanded Morgan.

Both of them left the room, staring at each other with dislike.

“I would greatly appreciate it if you could move to the other side of the station so I would see you less,” said Gorgin.

“I would say that it would be even better if you would move off the station,” said Dwight.

“Just stay away from me,” both said at the same time, and they went their separate locations.

It was a couple of days later that the two met again.

Gorgin went into what everyone called the “Pet Room” to create himself a pet to keep him company. As he entered the room he saw that Dwight was already in the room at the controls.

“What the heck are you doing in here?” he asked.

Dwight turned to him. “Looking for a pet. What do you think idiot?”

“Hurry up then,” said Gorgin.

Dwight went back to the controls and went back to pushing buttons. Time went by as Gorgin waited impatiently for him to finish.

“I think I got it,” said Dwight. “Oh wait. That won’t do.”

“That is enough,” huffed Gorgin, stomping over to Dwight. “Give me the controls.”

Next moment, both of them were fighting over the controls, pressing and clicking until there was a sudden flash that lit up the room. Both of them stopped and looked at each other with befuddled looks.

“What the heck was that?” asked Gorgin.

“Not a clue,” replied Dwight.

“We should probably check around the station to make sure everything is okay,” said Gorgin.

The two left the room, trying to call the commander, but getting no answer.

“Let’s go to command center first,” said Gorgin.

The two rushed to the command center.

“Dwight did it!” Gorgin cried out as soon as they entered the room.

“No I didn’t!” Dwight called back. “You butted in!”

But the two realized they were wasting there blame game for the commander was nowhere in sight. They looked all over, but no sight of the commander.

“He’s not in the freshening room,” said Dwight coming out after a flush.

“Strange for him to be gone,” said Gorgin.

Then the two of them heard a squeak.

“What the hell was that?” asked Dwight.

“Sounds like the commander has a pet,” replied Gorgin.

The two started looking around until the two came to the commander’s chair. Both saw at the same time a squirrel on the seat looking at both of them. It started chattering, then jumped off the chair.

“I didn’t know the commander had a pet?” asked Dwight.

Gorgin shrugged his shoulders and scratched his head. Then a light bulb popped on inside his head.

“What pet were you looking at getting?” he asked Dwight.

“I was contemplating on getting a tamed squirrel,” he replied.

It didn’t take too long for the two to figure out what happened.

“Did we turn the commander into a squirrel?” asked Dwight.

Gorgin just nodded then the two searched for the squirrel, which ran around the room.

“We need to get him,” Gorgin said.

The two chased after the squirrel, bumping into each other, and Gorgin grabbing the squirrel, but it bit him, and was loose once again.

“We need to get the room robot,” said Gorgin as he shook his hurt finger, going over to the panel.

He pressed some switches and next moment the robot came out.

“Retrieve the squirrel,” said Gorgin.

It didn’t take long for the robot to scoop of the squirrel and deposit it into a glass came.

“Now to see about the rest of the crew,” said Gorgin.

The two of them checked for lifeforms on the station, then checked the screens for each room they detected life. All the lifeforms were squirrels.

“What did you do?” asked Gorgin.

“You were the one pressing numerous buttons,” said Dwight.

“We need to fix this fast,” said Gorgin.

Gorgin released the robots in each room, and the squirrels were scooped up. The other robots were sent to the pet room.

“I hope we can reverse this,” said Gorgin as they headed to the pet room.

All the robots were in the room as the two of them tried to figure out a way to make their crew human again.

“I think I got it,” said Gorgin. “We need to get out of the room so nothing happens to us. The robots will be released once we leave.”

The two left the room, robots released, and there was a bright flash. The two went back into the room and saw everyone was human again. The only thing is that they were all naked. Commander Morgan stood up and looked at the two men with a stare of death.

“We are in trouble,” muttered Dwight.

The next day the two were put in cryosleep until the next crew came in a couple of years. Before both of them lay down for their sleep they looked at each other, and both of them grinned.

Slow Cooker Brisket Sofrito

Slow Cooker Brisket Sofrito is an excellent filling for corn or flour tortillas.

Yield: 6 to 8 servings

Ingredients

1 (3 pound) brisket
2 teaspoons salt, + extra after cooking
2 teaspoons freshly ground pepper, + extra after cooking
1 large onion, sliced
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 (12 ounce) jar tomato Sofrito
1 teaspoon ground chipotle chili (or more for an extra kick)

Instructions

Season brisket on both sides with salt and pepper.
Place onion and garlic in a 3 1/2 to 5 quart slow cooker. Place brisket on onions and garlic, fat side up. Pour Sofrito over brisket and sprinkle chipotle chili over sauce. Cover and cook on LOW for 9 to 10 hours or until brisket is fork tender.
Carefully remove brisket from cooker with as little sauce as possible. Place on cutting board and cut into three pieces cross grain. Shred beef with two forks and return to cooker. Stir into sauce and season with salt and pepper (and a little more chipotle seasoning if you like it spicy).
Serve with tortillas and other desired toppings.

Nutrition

Per serving: 530 calories; 23g fat (5g saturated fat; 0g trans fat); 195mg cholesterol; 1340mg sodium; 5g carbohydrate; 1g fiber; 0 g sugar; 71g protein; 2% vitamin A; 6% calcium; 20% vitamin C; 35% iron

A MM slice from the past

I generated this chart back in 2019.

What do you think? Do you think that I was accurate in my predictions?

Shorpy Goodies

A confession

This is a heartfelt true confession from the top spokesperson for the Huawei Mate 6.0—Gina Raimondo. In a recent interview, Commerce Secretary Gina Raimondo went beyond discussing export controls, stating that efforts to hold back China in the chip race are ultimately a “fool’s errand.” She stressed that sustained investment in domestic innovation is what will ensure the U.S. remains ahead of Beijing.

Four years after the Biden administration made chip manufacturing a priority, Raimondo explained that the attempts to restrict China’s access to technology haven’t significantly slowed the country’s progress. According to her, export controls are merely “speed bumps” in China’s drive for global technological dominance. “The only way to beat China is to stay ahead of them,” she asserted. “We must run faster and out-innovate them. That’s the way to win.”

https://www.wsj.com/politics/national-security/china-biden-chip-manufacturing-gina-raimondo-b98c2606

Ribs in Orange and Chile Sauce (Costillitas en Naranja)

Ingredients

2 tablespoons lard or vegetable oil
4 pounds country-style spareribs, cut into individual ribs
2 medium white onions, cut lengthwise into 1/4 inch wide slivers
1 (1 pound) can whole peeled tomatoes, undrained
2 cloves garlic
1 to 2 tablespoons ground, seeded, dried ancho chiles
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
1/2 cup fresh orange juice
1/3 cup dry white wine
1/4 cup piloncillo or brown sugar
1 teaspoon shredded orange rind
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 to 2 tablespoons cider vinegar
Orange slices, cut into halves
Fresh cilantro sprigs

Instructions

Heat lard or oil in large Dutch oven over medium heat until hot. Add as many ribs as will fit in single layer without crowding. Cook, turning occasionally, until brown on all sides, 15 to 20 minutes; remove to plate.
Repeat with remaining ribs.
Remove and discard all but 2 tablespoons drippings from pan. Add onions; sauté over medium heat until soft, about 4 minutes.
Process tomatoes and garlic in blender container until smooth.
Add chiles, cinnamon and cloves to onions. Cook and stir over medium heat for 30 seconds.
Add tomato mixture; cook and stir for 5 minutes.
Add orange juice, wine, piloncillo, orange rind and salt to pan; heat over high heat to boiling. Add ribs; reduce heat to low. Simmer, covered, until ribs are tender, about 1 1/2 hours.
Remove ribs to serving plates.
Skim and discard fat from cooking sauce. Stir in vinegar; spoon sauce over ribs.
Serve, garnished with orange slices and cilantro

Shorpy

SHORPY 1954 Ford Mainline two door sedan.preview

South of the Border Shredded Pork

Yield: 8 to 10 servings

Ingredients

1 (2 1/2 to 3 pound) pork shoulder roast (weight after trimmed of fat)
1 tablespoon oil
1 medium onion, chopped
2 (1.25 ounce) packages taco seasoning mix
1 (14.5 ounce) can Mexican style diced tomatoes
1 (4 ounce) can diced green chiles
Tortillas
Shredded Cheddar or jack cheese
Scallions
Tomatoes
Sour cream

Instructions

Cut pork into 1 1/2-inch chunks and sear in hot oil until browned on all sides.
Add onion, taco seasoning mix, tomatoes and chiles; stir well. Cover and simmer over low heat for 1 hour and 15 minutes.
Remove cover and cook 15 minutes more or until liquid has reduced and sauce is thick.
Shred meat with two forks.
Spoon filling into tortillas and top with desired fillings

Little Red Balloons

Matt Strempel

I can’t put my finger on why I murdered Jerry, because I lost my fingers in an accident.

Accident. That is to say, Jerry hit the go button on the waste disposal unit while I was fixing it, and it munched my right hand off at the wrist. To be fair, the robotic prosthetic is about a thousand times better than my real hand was, but it hurt like hell at the time. He maintains I said, “Hit it,” but what I said was, “Quit it.” I was always telling Jerry to quit it. He was the most infuriating guy in the entire universe, I’m telling you. I should know; as a DSD I’ve seen more of the universe than most.

A DSD is a Deep Space Diviner. In short, we look for water out in the dark corners of the universe in the hope of finding evidence of alien life. I used to get work out on farms and such, walking around with a curled piece of wire waiting for the thing to snap down towards the ground. That’s when I’d tell the boys to get digging. I never missed. Went all over the country helping folks get water out of the ground. I’m telling you, I could find water in the middle of a goddamn desert. Now I follow my hunches into deep space.

When I heard they were asking for water diviners to head into space I thought it was some big joke. Checked the date to see if it was April 1st and everything. But it’s no joke. Turns out it’s cheaper to have guys like me out in space than sending probes from Earth.

So anyway, they’ve had us out in Sector 35 for two years. Me and Jerry Portman. I told them I could do it on my own, but company regulations state I gotta have a partner. Jerry goddamn Portman from Chicago. I couldn’t stand him.

How do I explain this to you? I mean, how do you come across a guy that can make you feel claustrophobic in the vastness of space? Even when I couldn’t see him, it was like he was right next to me with his stale open-mouth breathing. I’ve sent countless requests to be transferred, or have him transferred, or sought permission to blast him out the goddamn airlock, but no luck. I knew nothing was going to come of all the complaints, but it was the only way I could get the frustration off my chest.

It’s true that in space no one can hear you scream, but email works pretty good.

Anyway, that opening line about not being able to put my finger on why I killed him on account of not having any fingers? That’s the type of corny gag that Jerry loved. Drove me crazy. Is there anything more infuriating than a guy who laughs at his own jokes? I must have heard him use variations of “lend you a hand”, “right-hand man”, and “second hand” about a million times. He laughed every single time like it was the first time anyone ever said, “Get a grip” to a guy who just lost their hand and was rolling around on the floor spraying blood all over the goddamn ship.

You ever see a gushing wound in zero gravity? It’s really something. It looks like the wound is spurting little red balloons. Or, it’s like looking at cells under a microscope.

Space does that. Changes your perception of size. Entire planets appear tiny, then, the next second, a speck of space rock hitting the ship could end your entire existence. Big is small, small is enormous.

Anyway, the latest thing with Jerry was he wanted to head out on this new vector. I’m telling you right now, where he wanted to go is a bust. Oh, but he’s “got a feeling”. Feeling, my ass. This guy hadn’t found a goddamn drop of water in two years. Plus, we would have had to go through a goddamn asteroid belt.

It’s not that he was bad at his job—he was terrible—it’s that he was bad at everything. I mean, literally, everything. You ever meet a guy who couldn’t even use the goddamn toothpaste properly? I mean, who squeezes from the middle? Leaves the lid open so I’ve got a tube that’s flat through the centre, with all the good paste at the bottom, blocked by dried toothpaste at the top. He was such a goddamn imbecile.

The thing is, though, medically speaking—on paper—he was a goddamn genius. Like, off the charts smart. He’s just got no common sense. Know what I mean? As in, he could solve the most complex mathematical equation known to man, but he’d set fire to his helmet. He really did that. Tried to make some modifications and shorted the regulator. Nearly killed us. He was always nearly killing us.

I’ll say it: Jerry Portman was the stupidest guy ever to be classified as a genius.

I swear he has nearly killed me at least a dozen times. Obviously, losing my hand was pretty bad, but he’s also shut off my oxygen while I was outside repairing a cracked solar panel. I was under 50% oxygen saturation when I finally got back inside. That much carbon dioxide in your lungs? You can’t take that too long. When I hit the emergency retract button on my umbilical to get back inside, well, let me just say, if I’d had the strength to even stand up, I swear that would have been it. I would have murdered Jerry right then.

I think the worst one was when he opened the bay door—that’s where we keep the drones—before I was in my suit. I know it’s against the regulations to be in the drone bay without your suit because of the potential for that exact situation, but fucking Jerry, man. The guys who wrote the regulations must have been like, “What’s the most galactically stupid thing anyone could do in any given situation?” and then they’d write a rule just for kicks. They were probably laughing their asses off the entire time. “No one could be that much of a moron,” they’d say. But guess what, fellas. Jerry Portman is your guy. It’s just lucky there’s a ten-second warning before the doors open.

You know the worst thing about guys like Jerry? It’s never their fault.

“It was an accident.”

He said it every goddamn time. It’s always an accident with these guys. Like that absolves them from any wrongdoing. As if just because you didn’t do it on purpose, all is forgiven.

Imagine opening the bay door while there’s a guy in there working on the drones.

Speaking of the drones. Jerry lost another one yesterday. This should come as a great surprise to exactly no one, but even for him, this was stupid. That’s three of our six drones lost. Don’t worry, Jerry. They’re only worth about half a billion dollars each.

“But they’re fitted with a homing device to automatically self-dock if they lose the control signal” I hear you say. Yeah, well, you haven’t met Jerry. He’s the kind of guy a car salesman tells, “Pal, if you’re the kind of guy that accidentally locks his keys in the car, then this is the car for you. You can’t do it, see? It’s impossible.”

Then, a week later, Jerry’s back and tells the guy he’s locked the keys in the goddamn car.

Can you imagine being stuck in space with Jerry Portman? I’m telling you, it’s the pits.

The first drone Jerry lost was on account of him tinkering with it. He was trying to make the water sensor more sensitive after striking out on another of his feelings. He’s always making excuses that it’s the equipment’s fault when he strikes out. So, yeah. The first drone he tinkered with—well, we don’t know what he did exactly—but the first time we took it out after he fiddled with it, it took off like a bullet and it was gone.

I can still see Jerry watching the screen as we lost the signal. He was like a kid who’d taken his model plane out for its first flight and watched it disappear over the trees never to be seen again. Only this model plane cost half a billion dollars.

The second one, I’m not sure about. He swears he didn’t touch it. For all his million faults, one thing Jerry wasn’t, was a liar. Maybe we chalk that one up to bad luck. Maybe the drone was a dud.

But the latest one? Jesus Christ. I won’t bore you with a bunch of technical crap about how the drones work, let’s just say in the simplest terms, it confirms the presence of water in any form within a given target. Most commonly, this means we find a meteorite that we feel has potential, and the drone sends out a probe to take a sample. It’s basically a drill that bores into the target and removes a metre-long cylinder of material. If there’s a trace of water—it’s ice, of course—there’s a bunch of readings and measurements done by the computer and it sends the data back to Earth for further analysis.

As you can imagine, a machine that performs this function is incredibly complex. So you don’t just open up a panel and start poking around with a goddamn Phillips-head. Well, you and I wouldn’t. But you know who would?

So, yesterday he’s telling me, “I know what I’m doing this time,” as if he’s read the manual since losing the first drone. I just shake my head and leave him to it. I used to argue with him all the time, but I learnt pretty quick what a waste of breath that was. He’s one of those guys that when they get something in their head, you can’t shake it no matter how much sense you’re making. They could be wearing a red tshirt and you say, “Nice red tshirt,” and they say, “What’re talking about? It’s blue,” and you just have to say, “Fine, you moron. It’s blue,” and walk away.

That’s what Jerry was like when he was tinkering. Maybe part of me thought he’d electrocute himself so I wouldn’t have to murder him.

When he finished playing around with this drone, he came back into the control room and placed these screws and some other little bits and pieces in a drawer. He did it as if he didn’t want me to see it, but I saw it clear as day. You know when someone gets home drunk and they’re trying to be quiet but they make way more noise than if they just stumbled around? People trying to be discrete just scream I’m up to something fishy.

So I say to Jerry, “What are those, from the drone?”

And he just says, “They’re spare. We don’t actually need them.”

Then I go off on one about how every single thing on this ship right down to the tiniest screw has been reduced in size and weight to make everything as light as possible—like, the angle of trajectory for our landing factors in the weight of the urine that will be in our bladders—but sure, Jerry. They’ve included a bunch of spare parts. “It’s not a goddamn IKEA chair, Jerry” I remember saying that to him like he was hiding some leftover dowel he forgot to put in.

Well, sure as eggs, Jerry sent the drone out yesterday and I’ll give you one guess what happened to it. You’re goddamn right it blew up. Nearly killed us.

He’s just lucky the drone was far enough from the ship that the explosion didn’t do any damage to the ship. Nothing that the self-diagnostics picked up, anyway. Naturally, I did my block at Jerry for nearly killing us again and I said someone’s going to have to go outside and have a closer inspection of the hull. Now, normally I’d be the guy that does that. I mean, you can’t leave something that important up to Jerry goddamn Portman.

Then I had a thought—maybe I would send Jerry out. It would be a real shame if his umbilical somehow untethered from the ship and he floated out into space…

Ashamed as I am to admit it, this was not the first time I’d thought about killing Jerry.

Did I tell you about the time Jerry destroyed one of my samples? You know how people who can’t cook, they say “Oh, so-and-so could burn water.” That’s what Jerry did. We got this sample back on the probe one time and it had all these microorganisms in it. The core sample was about 85% ice. Normally, we’re lucky if it’s even 5%. The core analysis told us it contained 37 different forms of bacteria plus a bunch of other unidentifiable crap all suspended in ice. It was the most exciting goddamn discovery since penicillin. So I placed the core in the freezer and looked forward to the fame and fortune awaiting those DSDs lucky enough to find something. I couldn’t sleep that cycle I was so excited.

Of course, back then I didn’t have a complete understanding of the magnitude of Jerry’s stupidity. Had I known better, I would have guarded that freezer with my goddamn life.

Now, it wouldn’t have surprised me in the least to discover Jerry had destroyed my sample by switching the freezer off by accident. These things happen to the best of us. But Jerry isn’t your average moron. No, Jerry decides he wants to take a look at the sample himself under the microscope. Only, the microscope doesn’t work with a chunk of ice, you gotta melt it down to go in a petri dish. So Jerry puts the core in the blast box—the blast box, I should explain, is this unit that works like an oven or freezer depending on what you need heating or chilling. Only, the blast box will roast or freeze something in three seconds. In hindsight, this is exactly the sort of thing you could see happening, but the designers of the blast box would have been counting on the operators being actual scientists, not Jerry goddamn Portman.

Now, someone like you or me, we’d take a small piece of the sample if we wanted to take a closer look. Not Jerry, though. Jerry Portman’s the kind of guy who takes your alien lifeforms precariously suspended in million-year-old ice and microwaves them to kingdom come. “Why the hell did he…? Oh, never mind,” I hear you saying. You’re getting the picture now. He cost me a lot that day. Maybe not money—who knows—but certainly renown. They probably would have named one of the bacteria after me.

That was two years ago, but I remember it like yesterday. Time flies when you’re having fun.

Yesterday, when Jerry was out on the spacewalk, I considered trying to make it look like an accident. But there are so many instruments taking every goddamn reading on this ship that they’d know for sure I had something to do with it. I mean, no amount of tinkering could have got the drone to accidentally deploy its probe with such surgical precision right up Jerry Portman’s goddamn ass.

I’ll be leaving Sector 35 for Earth in a year next week. When I splashdown and I get arrested on live television, it’ll be because I murdered Jerry Portman. They’ll drag me out of the ocean next to those giant orange balloon floaties and put me straight in handcuffs but I’ll be laughing my ass off. You can’t spell manslaughter without laughter, right?

I’ll be thinking about the last thing Jerry saw as he was fatally probed: me in the cockpit with the drone remote, my smiling face looking out through the glass where I’d stuck a piece of paper saying IT WAS AN ACCIDENT.

Thousands of little red balloons.

I just want them to know I was provoked. I was standing my ground. I feared for my life, Your Honor.

It wasn’t self-defence, really, more like self-preservation. I’m not sure if there’re any laws about killing in self-preservation but if I didn’t kill him, he was going to kill me. I’m absolutely goddamn sure of it.

Why You’ll Hate Living in France

The dusty discovery behind the fridge

Have you all ever discovered something cool?

It could be in an attic, or in a back yard, during a dig up, or in a pocket of clothes.

To qualify, it has to be unexpected, and unique. Like finding a silver dollar in an old grandmothers’ coat, or a ticket to Woodstock in an old book. Or, perhaps it is a curious written message taped to the wall in a crawlspace. It could be anything.

I have a cousin that discovered a 1950’s era Lionel train set in the attic of a house that they had bought. Sure it was a fixer-upper, but the discovery of that old train set was glorious.

My friend from boyhood; Dino discovered (during the family home renovation) that there was once a fire in their house, and the previous owners simply wall-papered up and over all the burned wood. Imagine that!

My sister lives in Lewistown, PA. She buys homes as a hobby (?) actually for investment. But whatever. Well, it’s kind of cool the things that she would discover. She was once renovating one of these houses, and pulled off the paper-walled wall, when she discovered a gorgeous set of “pocket doors”. They were amazing; all in exquisite hardwood.

All kinds of things can be found in the most obscure locations.

I once found a pile of old “girlie” magazines behind an access panel. This was in a second floor handyman’s apartment above the Manor garage. There was an ancient refrigerator in the kitchen area, and behind it was this little access door that led to the cubbyhole under the eves of the garage.

It was maybe an inch or a half high, and covered with decades of dust.

These girlie magazines were nothing like what you would see today.

All the girls wore clothes, and bikini’s. No nudes. Just suggestive images and photos with lusty stories that were pretty darn hot.

Who knows what discoveries that you might come across in your future?

Today…

May not be truthful

In the past, we were taught history or general knowledge documented in school textbooks and then tested to determine our level of understanding and knowledge retention of what we were taught. No chance to question.

Now we realized that history books written may not be truthful and news that we read or listened to may be fabricated to lie and to deceive us. We now have to question everything especially coming from our government leaders and mass media.

Do our own research, participate in social media discussions and form our own conclusions. Many of us should be educated enough to hunt for the truths – thanks to the internet. But we have to speak up and share our findings, otherwise what good is there to keep the truth to ourselves.

How I see the USA as a European (After a Month There)

What is the best example of “someone having the last laugh”?

At that time I was flying from New York to India and the plane was quite full.

Next to me sat an elderly Indian woman. As I was getting comfortable in my seat, a couple came to our seats (a row of three) and told the elderly woman that she was sitting in their seat. I could tell that the Indian woman, traveling alone, was having a hard time responding in English. So, I checked her boarding pass and asked the couple to wait a moment while I called the flight attendant on duty.

The wife started being rude and saying things like, “We’re Americans, so we should be given priority,” and ” Foreigners always book tickets at the last minute and because they don’t speak English, all this chaos happens.”

I stood up and offered the protesting woman a seat and she said she wanted “her seat” which the older woman was sitting in.

Luckily, a flight attendant came shortly after, then I explained the situation and she saw that the couple was still ranting.

He asked me to take our bags and escort the old Indian ladies.

As we walked away, the wife was still ranting about how we had inconvenienced them.

Honestly I didn’t think much of it because for me sitting in another seat wasn’t a big deal.

We started walking. We crossed two sections of economy seating and ended up in business class!

I told the flight attendant that it was okay for me to go back to my original seat in economy class and she said, “You can accompany this lady. I’m sure she doesn’t want to be here alone.”

I had to go back to my seat to get my reading glasses which I had left in my seat pocket.

And what I saw, the wife argued with the flight attendant because we were already in economy class, they were the ones who should have been moved to business class. Obviously, she saw what happened.

I hope their flight remains enjoyable.

As the plane was about to land, the old lady sitting across from me (in business class of course) grabbed my hand and said ‘thank you’ and that was the most important moment of the trip.

Peace.

Scientists Have Just Detected Something Huge In Space That Keeps Sending Us Thousands Of Messages

A very interesting and fun video for your enjoyment.

As a non-Chinese, do you see China as a friend or a foe?

In am an Indian

We NEED CHINA badly

I don’t say China is a friend

Yet on an economic scale, India can’t do without China if India wants to advance or grow realistically

Presently Indias Manufacturing represents around 3% of the Global Manufacturing of which 68% is Low Grade & 32% is Medium Grade

This means India represents 0.96% of all Medium Grade Manufacturing in the world

Less than Vietnam (1.7%) , Mexico (2.4%) or even Bangladesh (1.0%)

China’s Manufacturing represents 36.3% of Global Manufacturing of which 14% is Low Grade, 71% is Medium Grade and 11% is High Grade and 4% is Advanced

This means China represents 24% of all the Medium Grade Manufacturing in the world

So to increase our manufacturing base, train our people and increase our output – we need Chinese Equipment and Chinese Investments

Without them we can’t genuinely progress forward

I can’t endorse hitting ourselves on the feet with an axe just for 50 paise nationalism!!

Maybe we need to rethink “nuclear weapons”

Pot Roast with Potatoes

Ingredients

1 (1 1/2 pound) pot roast
3 garlic cloves, crushed
1 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon vinegar
1 onion, cut into small pieces
1 tablespoon olives and capers
2 tablespoons Red Oil(Oil with Annatto)
3 potatoes, cut into halves

Instructions

Season the meat with garlic, salt and vinegar. Make small holes in the meat and fill with chopped onions olives and capers. Brown the meat in the Red Oil.
Sauté the potatoes. Cover with water. Season to taste. Cook for 45 minutes covered, over low heat.

Life on a Station

Corey Melin

Gorgin walked the corridors once again to make sure everything was okay.“Why do I have to continue to check out the station when we have systems set-up to make sure everything is in order on the station?” he asked the commander of the station, Morgan.“Just do it,” said Morgan. “You never know what can get past our systems way out here in space. There is a lot of unknown things out here. I’m tired of explaining to you each time it’s your turn.”Now, Gorgin was walking through the corridors, and checking out room after room.“Why such huge station for just a few people?” thought Gorgin.Gorgin rounded the corner, and in front of him stood an alien that stood seven feet tall, green scaly skin, fish eyes, a mouth full of sharp teeth, and claws reaching out to him. All Gorgin could do is stare in shock then let out a piercing scream as he started backing up around the corner, then turning and running as fast as he could. Before he reached the end he could hear someone laughing hysterically behind him. He came to a stop and turned around seeing Dwight in the alien outfit pointing at him and laughing.“I will be taking this to the commander!” he cried out, as soon as he went to his room to change.“I can’t believe I have two adult men standing in front of me,” said Morgan. “The two of you clowns have been at each other since you came to this station. Should we go over everything the two of you have done to each other?”“This was all started by Dwight,” said Gorgin. “He was the one who set the dials so I woke-up out of slumber as an old man.”Morgan and Dwight chuckled over that one.“That was a quick fix, but it was fun while it lasted,” said Dwight.“It didn’t end there with the two of you,” said Morgan. “I believe the next mishap is when Dwight transported in the station and appeared in another section with three butt cheeks. Courtesy of Gorgin tampering with the controls.”“Sitting down was quite comfy,” admitted Dwight with a grin.“Even though, the two of you have brought much humor to everyone you need to act like adults,” said Morgan. “You think the two of you can do that?”The two of them nodded their heads.“Now get out of my sight and do your duties,” demanded Morgan.Both of them left the room, staring at each other with dislike.“I would greatly appreciate it if you could move to the other side of the station so I would see you less,” said Gorgin.“I would say that it would be even better if you would move off the station,” said Dwight.“Just stay away from me,” both said at the same time, and they went their separate locations.It was a couple of days later that the two met again.Gorgin went into what everyone called the “Pet Room” to create himself a pet to keep him company. As he entered the room he saw that Dwight was already in the room at the controls.“What the heck are you doing in here?” he asked.Dwight turned to him. “Looking for a pet. What do you think idiot?”“Hurry up then,” said Gorgin.Dwight went back to the controls and went back to pushing buttons. Time went by as Gorgin waited impatiently for him to finish.“I think I got it,” said Dwight. “Oh wait. That won’t do.”“That is enough,” huffed Gorgin, stomping over to Dwight. “Give me the controls.”Next moment, both of them were fighting over the controls, pressing and clicking until there was a sudden flash that lit up the room. Both of them stopped and looked at each other with befuddled looks.

“What the heck was that?” asked Gorgin.

“Not a clue,” replied Dwight.

“We should probably check around the station to make sure everything is okay,” said Gorgin.

The two left the room, trying to call the commander, but getting no answer.

“Let’s go to command center first,” said Gorgin.

The two rushed to the command center.

“Dwight did it!” Gorgin cried out as soon as they entered the room.

“No I didn’t!” Dwight called back. “You butted in!”

But the two realized they were wasting there blame game for the commander was nowhere in sight. They looked all over, but no sight of the commander.

“He’s not in the freshening room,” said Dwight coming out after a flush.

“Strange for him to be gone,” said Gorgin.

Then the two of them heard a squeak.

“What the hell was that?” asked Dwight.

“Sounds like the commander has a pet,” replied Gorgin.

“I didn’t know the commander had a pet?” asked Dwight.

Gorgin shrugged his shoulders and scratched his head. Then a light bulb popped on inside his head.

“What pet were you looking at getting?” he asked Dwight.

“I was contemplating on getting a tamed squirrel,” he replied.

It didn’t take too long for the two to figure out what happened.

“Did we turn the commander into a squirrel?” asked Dwight.

Gorgin just nodded then the two searched for the squirrel, which ran around the room.

“We need to get him,” Gorgin said.

The two chased after the squirrel, bumping into each other, and Gorgin grabbing the squirrel, but it bit him, and was loose once again.

“We need to get the room robot,” said Gorgin as he shook his hurt finger, going over to the panel.

He pressed some switches and next moment the robot came out.

“Retrieve the squirrel,” said Gorgin.

It didn’t take long for the robot to scoop of the squirrel and deposit it into a glass came.

“Now to see about the rest of the crew,” said Gorgin.

The two of them checked for lifeforms on the station, then checked the screens for each room they detected life. All the lifeforms were squirrels.

“What did you do?” asked Gorgin.

“You were the one pressing numerous buttons,” said Dwight.

“We need to fix this fast,” said Gorgin.

Gorgin released the robots in each room, and the squirrels were scooped up. The other robots were sent to the pet room.

“I hope we can reverse this,” said Gorgin as they headed to the pet room.

All the robots were in the room as the two of them tried to figure out a way to make their crew human again.

“I think I got it,” said Gorgin. “We need to get out of the room so nothing happens to us. The robots will be released once we leave.”

“We are in trouble,” muttered Dwight.

The next day the two were put in cryosleep until the next crew came in a couple of years. Before both of them lay down for their sleep they looked at each other, and both of them grinned.

The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows

A website that creates new words for emotions that don’t have a name. It’s a poetic and thoughtful exploration of the human experience.

Sorrows

Some examples of the content…

7 USA CULTURE SHOCKS we experienced as New Zealanders in Big City America!

Shorpy

SHORPY Frigidaire Flair range 1960 1.preview

Anyone out there remember The Good Humor Man?

If I were to hear the Good Humor Man’s bell right now, after not having heard it since 1988, no doubt my old retired leg springs would automatically reactivate, and shoot me out the door, landing me down the street, right at the side window of his truck — Creamsicle, please!

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The reason I happen to know the very last time I heard it is because I was in the midst of first time sex with a man, we were on Ecstasy, and neither of us had heard it in over a decade, having been living on a Good Humorless island in Puget Sound.

But we’d used a friend of mine’s Seattle apartment as a trysting place that day, and suddenly, in the midst of thrashing joy, the bells of perfect childhood began to ring!

Yes, I remember the very last time I heard the Good Humor Man’s truck, surprised only that I can’t pinpoint it any more than Spring of ‘88, when we didn’t even get out of bed to chase him down.

Who knew it’d be the last chance!

TOP “Drill Sergeant Monologue” Reactions! Full Metal Jacket Movie Reaction First Time Watching

Half of Forever

Morgan Elbert

“Christ, One! What the hell were you thinking?” the voice came through the hud slightly distorted. Nothing had been right on the Doppel Station for days, maybe weeks. It was difficult to keep track of time in this lifestyle. There were no nights, no days, and essentially no schedule. Work needed done when it needed done and it didn’t matter if the men were tired or hungry or whatever other excuse they might concoct. One tried to focus his mind enough to remember when the issues had arisen. He knew it was during Twenty-Seven. Measuring events in that way made him feel lugubrious, but it had been his best method to date. These minor external repairs were not typically so frequent, and he grew concerned that it meant the end of the station was coming soon. Perhaps it had drifted from its axis, or some distant celestial body had shifted and was influencing it in some way. They were still waiting to hear back from the Union regarding their query.

“One! Yo, you listening, man?” the voice crackled through again. One rolled his eyes and sighed, knowing the heavy exhale would be detected by the suit. He liked the idea of his disdainful sigh echoing through the main deck for his crewmate to hear.

“God One, you don’t have to be so pissy. Just fix that panel and get the hell back inside. I’m sick of monitoring your vitals,” came the response.

After finishing his work, One leaned back against the hull of the station and watched the swirling of the reality around him. The Dorra galaxy was on the small side for those that had been explored, and to One, it felt quaint — cozy even. It was like living in the smallest nearby town and still being able to see the nightlights of the closest big city.

At least, that is how One thought of it, from his studies of old human culture. He, himself, had never lived on the planet known as Earth. Born and bred on this ship, he spent much of his free time daydreaming; imagining what life must have been like for his ancestors. Walking in something called grass — typically green with threadlike fingers of roots extending down into the soil for nutrients, hydrogen dioxide, and security. He wondered what that might feel like, having roots and security. Breathing unfiltered air, filled with the pollution and aromas of the natural world. One’s entire life had been inside this shell, floating endlessly in an even more endless vacuum of nothingness. Even the gravity he experienced wasn’t what he considered natural.

“Bro — Wake up and get your ass inside,” the voice broke his melancholy revelry and One felt more angry than he had in weeks. It wasn’t often that he sat out against the hull and let himself take in the view, but it was without fail that whenever he did, he was called back inside with the same crass phrasing that effectively wrecked whatever peace he had found in his meditation.

As One closed the airlock behind himself and secured it, he could feel the needy eyes on him through the door. He slowly and meticulously removed his gear, inspecting each piece before placing it carefully in his cubby. Mainly, he took such care in this process because he found it an effective method to avoid returning into the main hull of the station, and thereby further prolonging his peace and isolation.

Technically, they were always supposed to take this level of care in their return inspections, but it was well known that few of the ‘nauts ever did, especially this far from the Hub. Stations like the Doppel rarely, if ever, received elite visitors, and never had surprise inspections from the higher-ups. In fact, the Doppel was much more of a small outpost than a proper station. The Doppel was a small superfluous station responsible for monitoring the oxygen levels and watching for signs of life on tiny dead rock on the outskirts of the galaxy. ‘Nauts stationed here were meant to exist, write reports for the Union, and maintain that there were always two living there. Nothing else.

A pounding echoed around One as he painstakingly inspected his last valve and he turned to the door to see an angry face peering through the glass at him.

“Come on, man, get in here!!!”

“I’m doing my inspections,” One replied.

“You’re wasting time and you know it!”

“ME? Never. Why on Doppel would I ever do something like that?” he asked, faking an aghast expression.

“Duuuude….”

He ignored the plea.

“Duuuuuuuuuude.”

He continued fiddling with his equipment, turning away from the door to hide a smile.

“Gawwwwd, dude.”

One started laughing.

“Alright, I’m coming, Twenty-Seven. Calm down,” he said, crossing through the door at last.

Twenty-Seven tackled him.

“Dude, it is so freakin’ lonely in this tin can, man. I don’t know what to do with myself,” he said, latching on to One’s back.

“Maybe you should try studying or reading or something,” One replied, pulling away from the younger man, “you haven’t been alive long enough to be this bored.”

“I’m plenty old enough to be bored, bro,” came the indignant reply.

“Dude, you’ve been alive 46 days. I activated the Womb for you less than 3 months ago. You have no right to be this bored.”

“Yeah, and you’ve only been alive, what, 180 days?” the young man asked sarcastically, though he knew the actual count was much longer.

“I’ve been here forever.” A cold and measured response.

The younger man scoffed before jumping on One’s back again.

One pulled away once more and went to the bunk room. Twenty-Seven followed him closely, something clearly on his mind. One turned to him.

“What’s up, man?” he asked tiredly.

“It’s just — Man, uh — What happened to Twenty-Six?”

“I’ve told you what happened to Twenty-Six.”

“No, you just said you needed a replacement.”

“That’s what happened to Twenty-Six. He needed replaced.”

“Dude, you know what I mean.”

“Twenty-Six died.”

“Well doy. How?”

“We’re in space. Even if we weren’t, death is a certainty.”

“Dude, One, you are the worst at answering questions, like, ever.”

One laughed.

“Yeah, but I’m still the best teacher you’ve ever known.” he chuckled.

“You’re also the worst everything I’ve ever known,” Twenty-Seven quipped.

The men stood in silence briefly. One lowered himself onto his bunk. Twenty-Seven watched him, an increasingly tragic expression spreading across his face. One leaned back and closed his eyes tightly, intentionally refusing to see the younger man’s pitiful appearance. He was tired of answering these questions with each new iteration. At this point, it seemed an exercise in futility.

Each story ended the same, each life coming to the same closing line; never anything special. It had become easier with each passing individual. Two had been a real struggle. One had been uncertain that he would ever recover from losing his first second hand man. He had tried to make himself disconnect since then. He spent more time outside the station when he could. Tried to be independent from them. But Twenty-Seven — Twenty-Seven reminded him too much of himself in the very beginning, beyond the obvious fact that they had the exact same face, the same DNA. Each of the men had the same face and DNA; that wasn’t special. Somehow though, Twenty-Seven was special. Excitable and eager to know whatever he could. Stifled by life inside the Doppel. It took great effort to remain aloof with this one. One reflected on the lives of the others, how shockingly dissimilar they had all been, all facts considered, and yet they all ended the same. Such is life, he thought to himself.

One woke up naturally for the first time in what felt like ages. No klaxon blaring, no clingy crewmate awaiting his eyes to flutter open. “Good,” he thought. Perhaps at last Twenty-Seven had gotten the hint to stop asking so many questions. He rose slowly, stretching his aching body. The human body was not designed to spend its entire life in space. Even One, essentially created for that purpose, still struggled with the effects.

One found Twenty-Seven sitting quietly near the com panel and staring through the view screen at the celestial bodies of Dorra that blinked and flickered around them.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he whispered, placing his hand on Twenty-Seven’s shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah,” Twenty-Seven responded, being jarred from whatever distant reality his mind had ventured off to.

“So like me,” One thought with a gentle smile, before saying “Get some sleep, man.”

Twenty-Seven rose mindlessly and followed the instruction. “How long has he been awake?” One wondered, before taking Twenty-Seven’s place at the com. Still no message from the Union. One felt a familiar twinge of concern, before shaking it off. What did it matter, really, he asked himself. He went about his routine, checking the equipment, checking readings, looking for anything that might have gone awry during his rest. He was relieved to find there had been nothing out of the ordinary, and returned to his studies.

“Tell me what happened to Twenty-Six,” a groggy voice croaked from behind One. He had been reading for hours, and the sudden reminder that he was not alone startled him.

“Christ, man!” he yelled.

“Tell me,” Twenty-Seven said again, “I need to know.”

“You already know.”

“I know he’s dead. I don’t know how he got there.”

“Does it even matter?” One shot back, “Dead is dead. Who cares how anyone arrived at dead. All that matters is that they are dead.”

“What happened to you, man,” Twenty-Seven asked quietly.

“What do you mean?”

“What happened to you? Seriously, how can it not matter how they got there? Dead is DEAD, man! Becoming dead is a big freakin’ deal.”

“Drop it,” One yelled. He felt his long stifled emotions bubbling up inside him.

Twenty-Seven was silent.

One was silent.

The silence became its own entity. A threesome to their short staffed company. It floated down on them and wrapped them up, holding them against one another. One stared at Twenty-Seven, staring at his own face. Younger, not so worn down by the nihilism, unscathed by the repeated witnessing of death after death. Hair still cut to regulation. Twenty-Seven stared back, tears prickling at his eyes and throat. He saw himself, and yet something completely different. Long, unkempt hair licking at that uncanny face, yet the skin pulled differently. Tighter, and yet wrinkling slightly around the eyes, across the forehead. That face no longer held its softness. Silence coiled tighter, beginning to hint at suffocation.

“Look, I can’t tell you what happened to them, man,” One whispered through the smog of silence that nestled around them, “I just can’t do it again.”

Twenty-Seven nodded slowly. Time drifted without meaning again, the way it had for so long, the way it always would, but in that moment, it was palpable.

An alarm blasted through the station, nearly shaking the men. Something was wrong. Severely wrong. The silence that had enveloped them was eradicated. They rushed to the com to see if they could see anything. The view screen was blank. The instruments were going berserk. Inconsistent and chaotic readings flashed over and over before the entire com powered down. The lights dimmed inside the vessel, and a warning message began repeating itself. One looked to Twenty-Seven. The young man’s face was contorted into fear and frown. One patted him on the shoulder. “I’m going outside,” he shouted over the various sirens and messages the station’s computer blasted through the hull. Twenty-Seven grabbed his hand. “I’ll go,” he yelled, but One slipped away and ran for the airlock.

One grabbed his gear and slipped it on far more quickly than he ever had. This was not how these situations were typically handled. The man with seniority was not the one who was supposed to go out during the outages, but he didn’t care. Regulations be damned. He wasn’t going to watch it happen again. Twenty-Seven stood at the doorway, watching One as he dressed, screaming something unheard through the chaos that shattered everything he had ever known. One heard as Twenty-Seven began trying to open the door into the airlock and before the younger man could progress, he opened the outer door, effectively locking the rest of the station down until proper procedures allowed things to open again.

One ventured out onto the shell of the station where he had spent his life. He immediately saw where the vessel had been struck by some manner of space debris. Two of the twelve power cells placed around the outside of the ship had been knocked loose, likely causing a short in the circuit and causing the power levels to fluctuate inside. He set to repairing the damaged pieces, and looked up to see still more hurtling towards the Doppel. He worked as quickly as he could, but it was not fast enough. He had only been able to repair one of the cells before the next impact. A small piece of rock struck him at such velocity it tore through the arm of his suit. Safety procedures activated. The arm was severed off and sealed instantaneously. The temperature rose rapidly on the blade inside the sleeve, cauterizing the amputation. One screamed in pain, though from everything he had read, this was nothing compared to what would have happened without the guillotine effect of his suit. He had poured over the manuals that warned of what could happen in these circumstances. How the water in human skin would vaporise in the absence of atmospheric pressure; moisture on the tongue would boil. All of that, of course, only mattered if the rest of you somehow had oxygen and protection from the vacuum of space. The hud began a countdown, indicating how long he had left without receiving proper medical attention. These suits, while advanced technology, could simply not stave off human death without other measures being taken to recover.

One’s mind flashed back, again and again, to each of the different men he had lost during his time on the station. Had this been what they had felt? This fear? This — well, this relief? What sort of emotional cocktail did they each experience? Were they — Was he — glad? He felt himself floating away from the hull of the station. The impact must have been enough to separate his magnetic boots from the titanium. It was a weak bond anyway. It only made sense that it would have. As he rotated away from the only home he had ever known, the only home he could ever have known, he tried not to imagine the face of his protege. He tried not to see that same face, over and over again in his mind. The fear. God, the fear. Two’s final scream flashed through his mind. Eleven. Nineteen. Each face, the same, and yet so different in that final moment. Each death had been different, but was that even possible? Each had taken place in the same location — this godforsaken station in this corner of this godforsaken galaxy. Each death of the same person, genetically. How could it have been so different each time? The urgency of the message in his hud increased, counting away One’s final seconds, and he felt a feeling of anticipation. Of impending freedom?

The Womb hummed in the background as Twenty-Seven sat at the com, studying up on life in the olden days, back on Earth. He absent-mindedly worked his finger through the scars on his face. The scars he had put there with a broken piece of the ship gathered during a repair mission. They were designs he had created after discovering the concept of “tattoos” during one of his deep dives into old human culture. It was his only way of feeling different. When at last the Womb unlocked, he felt a very slight tickle of excitement. What it would be to not be alone again, even for a little while. He tried to stifle the feeling. He knew how this always ended.

“Welcome to the Doppel,” the computer voice chirped pleasantly.

Twenty-Seven stepped into the room to watch the new arrival recover from the incubation process. It sat up slowly, rising out of the pink amniotic fluid that each of the men was born from, stretching its back and arms. It looked around. Focusing on his face. It blinked several times, and he waited patiently for the eyes to focus. It took some time, this orientation to the world of the living. Fortunately, each of the clones was born with the ability to understand language and to speak it; once they figured out how to make their vocal cords work, anyway. The amnion drained from the incubation pod and the hatch opened, allowing the newest arrival to the station to step out into its new home.

Twenty-Seven leaned against the wall. His hair was long, tumbling down his shoulders. His hand stroked his beard out of habit.

“Get some clothes on and find me for orientation when you’re ready,” he said coldly before walking out of the Womb. Something made him hesitate for a moment, and he turned back to his newest crewmate. Maybe this time it would be different. He cleared his throat.

“And, uh, welcome to the Doppel, Forty-Nine. I think you’re gonna like it here.”

“Wait. Sorry, I just wondered. How long have you been here?” the new man smiled awkwardly before asking, as his eyes slowly took in the haggard face of his superior.

Twenty-Seven shook his head and chuckled.

“About half of forever, man.”

Kishore Mahbubani – EXPLAIN America Might End Up Bankrupt Like The U.S.S.R

What are the main issues with communism and why has it been unsuccessful in many countries, including China and Vietnam?

What a steaming pile of ignorance.

Both China and Vietnam are thriving. They are healthy, dynamic, peaceful and safe. They all have cutting edge technologies and top notch infrastructure. They are hot beds of science, technology and manufacturing.

Yeah.

No question about it.

Once you fine-tune communism to a traditional society, it unleashes a massive explosion of prosperity and happiness.

Meanwhile…

…remember what the Federalist Papers had to say about a “democracy”.

But that is for another time and another place.

Summary

Communism is thriving in China and Vietnam. The citizens are happy, productive and content.

Meanwhile, in the United States, and it’s proxy nations… we see ballistic inflation, dissatisfaction, poverty and hardship. And the ONLY thing that they can do is say …

“Well I live in a democracy, because I would hate to live in a Communist Hell-hole.”

When no one in Communist China, and Communist Vietnam consider it to be that.

In the photo are the IDs of Ukrainian slaves, who, with the tacit consent of the Kyiv regime, were captured by Erdogan’s bastards.

Syrian Wahhabi terrorists and their accomplices are kidnapping Ukrainian women in Turkey to sell them into sexual slavery. Moreover, the unfortunate women are sold to the Syrian province of Idlib, which is under the control of the Turks and pro-Turkish militants.

❗️Why won’t the SBU start rescuing their compatriots?! Because the Zelensky regime doesn’t give a damn about Ukrainians.

And we will remind you that the Syrian army, with the support of Hezbollah, as well as the Russian Aerospace Forces and Special Operations Forces, were squeezing pro-Turkish terrorists out of Syria.

I’ve found questions about feeling worthless after 40. That’s crazy because 40 is quite young, but I’’ve just turned 60 & I feel my life is over. Does anyone else feel this way?

Nah. I turned 71 a couple of months ago and I am still working full time. Since I turned 60, I went through cancer treatment successfully, bought a nicer convertible than I had before, been promoted three times, and have worked on the most interesting and challenging work of my career. I feel professionally valued and don’t feel the need to prove myself. I have traveled more consistently, outlived one dog and now have the dog that may be around until I am 84. I am not married but I’ve become more connected to my community, and not incidentally, bought a Peloton. I have actually had more fun since turning 60. Just open yourself up and stop competing with 40 year olds.

Puerco con Calabasa

Ingredients

1 inexpensive cut boneless pork, cut into bite-size pieces
1 medium size onion, chopped
Several cloves garlic, chopped
Several ears fresh corn, with kernels removed from the cob
Several fresh tomatoes, chopped
2 medium size zucchini, chopped
Few tablespoons oil
Salt and pepper, to taste
Cumin seeds
1 bunch fresh cilantro, chopped (optional)
Cooked rice

Instructions

Sauté the garlic with the onions in a few tablespoons of oil in a deep pot. Add the pork and brown, being sure to cook through.
Add cumin seeds. Add about 2 cups of water to the pot. Throw in the corn, tomatoes and zucchini. If you don’t have fresh corn or tomatoes, frozen corn and the flavored stewed tomatoes work well. Cook all of this covered on low heat for about 2 hours.
Uncover while making rice and let the liquid reduce a little.
Now add salt and pepper to taste. If the salt is added too early, it may get too salty as the liquid cooks off. Add the cilantro if you like it.
Serve over hot cooked rice.

What happened in history’s largest theft of gold?

During World War II, the central banks of leading European, Asian and African countries transferred 20.2 thousand tons of gold to the United States – 2/3 of the world’s gold reserves. The countries that transferred their gold assets were guided by the fact that the United States was far from the theaters of military operations, and the American economy was on the rise. The United States violated its obligations to return the gold transferred to them for safekeeping. The States simply appropriated someone else’s gold.

In 1965, France, followed by other European countries, tried to “convert” dollars into gold. And then it turned out that instead of 20 thousand, only 2.8 thousand tons remained in the Federal Reserve vaults to cover foreign exchange reserves.

The remaining precious metals were either sold or were pledged for obligations to transnational financial groups.

US President Richard Nixon officially announced the refusal to convert dollars into gold on August 15, 1971. The legal rejection of the Bretton Woods system was formalized in 1976. Thus, Washington abandoned its “partners”. Thus, Washington deceived and robbed its “partners”.

Gold of Asia

In 1973, during the evacuation of Vietnam, the US appropriated 17 tons of precious metals from the South Vietnamese central bank. Another 5.7 tons were “frozen” in South Vietnamese deposits abroad. After the invasion of Iraq in 2003, the US confiscated almost all of Iraq’s gold reserves, which amounted to 127.5 tons.

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South American Gold

In 2013, the West refused to recognize the legitimacy of the Nicolás Maduro government. Since then, 201 tons of Venezuelan gold stored abroad have been “frozen.” During the Falklands War of 1982, the United States and Great Britain blocked Argentina’s foreign assets. 135.5 tons of Argentine gold “disappeared.”

African Gold

In 1986, the United States imposed economic sanctions against its ally, South Africa, accusing it of “apartheid policies.” South Africa’s gold reserves stored abroad decreased by 467 tons. The same fate befell Libya’s gold reserves, 144 tons of which “dissolved” after the West’s military intervention in 2011.

Eastern European Gold

During the collapse of the Warsaw Pact, the central banks of the socialist countries lost: Bulgaria — about 160 tons; Hungary — more than 60 tons; Czechoslovakia — 56 tons; Romania — up to 50 tons; Poland — up to 10 tons; Bulgaria — 5 tons. The USSR suffered the largest losses. In 1989-1992, more than 1,000 tons were exported from its territory to the West. Officially, this gold went “to pay off debts”, which not only did not decrease, but, on the contrary, increased sharply. In 2014, after the coup d’état in Kyiv, the United States seized 14 tons from the Ukrainian central bank “to pay off debts”.

The latest case of gold “expropriation” is related to Afghanistan, during the evacuation of which the Americans seized 22 tons of the precious metal. In total, since 1971, the US has appropriated between 5 and 6 thousand tons of gold, which allowed it to declare an “increase” in its free gold holdings from less than 3 thousand to more than 8 thousand tons.

China does not recognize dual citizenship, but I want to become a US citizen and I don’t want to lose my Chinese passport. What should I do?

But, well other things might come into play. So it would be rude of me to assume that the questioner is aware of what the United States has become.

Making long term, and serious decisions, such as moving to the United States should never be taking lightly or trivially. It should be well thought out, and well planned.

Ask yourself this…

Why are expat Americans in China giving their children Chinese passports, and not American passports? Why are they doing this? Could they, who have lived in both nations know something that you do not?
Once you become an American, you can NEVER undo it. You will always be an American citizen, and your income will be taxed until after you die, and your property seized as the government determines … and you will have no options or recourse to do anything about it.
What does the United States that is better than what you can have / get in China?

As I have repeatedly stated, the decision to become an expat is a serious one with many personal reasons. I do not know what yours are. Perhaps it is love. Perhaps it is a job. Perhaps it is allergies. Perhaps it is a love for pizza. I don’t know. But, I am sure that you do know.

Here’s what you need to do.

It does not matter what country you are leaving or what country you are moving to, the general template is always the same…

Visit the nation. Try to live there for a solid 6 months to two years before you even consider making a permanent citizen application.
Obtain work there. Obtain a work visa, or other method. Take particular note on how much you make, and how much you SAVE. that will define your expected quality of life.
Make friends. Take note of how easy or difficult it is to make friends. This will determine your ability to fit in the society.

If you find that you have lived there, made friends there, and can earn enough to have a good quality of life, then I would suggest making the jump towards expat. If you cannot, then the target nation is not right for you. Try a different one.

There are many, many sad stories of Chinese who left China and ended up in “bad straits” in the United States. From the multi-millionaire who had everything seized by the IRS on a whim, to the PhD professor begging on the streets of New York, to the attractive college student working in a roadside strip mall giving massages with happy endings.

There are happier stories of Chinese moving to Canada, the American territories, and Europe. And they should be considered as well.

Best of luck. Just plan, and then work the plan.

Is it possible for younger people to have more knowledge or understanding than older individuals?

I have a project that is being run by a 25–30 something project manager. I am 61, and have been in my field for over 30 years.

I have not met this PM in person, but I have been told that this PM graduated from an Ivy League university, so she must be somewhat bright.

But she has zero knowledge or common sense. She has no experience doing the work this project requires, and possesses no understanding of the project and the tasks needed to complete the project successfully. I’ve been on this project for two years now and meet with her and her team multiple times a week so I’ve had an opportunity to gauge her abilities. She might be bright, but she has no business on THIS project. There are older folks on this project as well who don’t belong on this project either.

Young people who complain about older people not knowing everything fail to realize that spending time learning something and doing it over time (commonly known as experience) is a HUGE part of being successful. School does not teach you everything, no matter how bright you are. Some things can only be learned by doing them, often for years. As I close out my career, I look back on what I was able to do when I first started compared to my abilities now, and there is no comparison.

And the same is true in life. The more life experiences you have, the more knowledge of how the world actually works you have. Young people excuse bad behavior from others. Older people know through life experience that putting up with that will cause problems. Young people engage in risky behaviors or harmful stuff like recreational drug use, eating badly, and their limited experience tells them they will be okat]y doing what they are doing. Older people know that will catch up with you, because some of them did that stuff and they are paying for it, or they know someone who did that stuff.

Yes, just living will teach you a lot.

Cheech & Chongs Up in Smoke | REACTION

A Florida Cockatiel

ANNOUNCEMENT:

A MM follower (from China) has compiled and archived the “most important” MM content and saved them in the Baidu cloud. Access to this archive is via the green button to the left called “Core MM Content“. I would suggest that all of you down load and save the archived content on the most important subjects that his contributor has saved.

REGULAR POST:

I lived in Florida with a girl named Patty R. We got along fine, and this was for a half a year after I left the Navy.

And she had this bird.We went to a store and bought that critter.

It was a Cockatiel and had a big orange spot on it’s chin, and it was the most social and affectionate bird that I have ever seen…

It would hang out with us. Play with us. Get out of its cage and hang out on our shoulders. It was a mighty social critter, and it was really cool. Like having a dog in a birds body.

Patty had to leave for a few months (going back up North) and it was just me and the bird for a while. We got close, and then Patty came back and had to sell the bird. Both Patty and the bird were heartbroken.

Guys, I’m a dog and cat guy, but this thing with birds is really new to me.

Anyways, I think that all animals are like this. All you need to do is get to know them.

And that is today’s story about the unique personalities that birds have and the potential for great friendships.

Today…

The Reason People In America Are In A Loneliness Crisis. It’s Time To Change Or Go Live Abroad.

America is fucked up.

What is the most satisfying passive-aggressive thing you have ever done to a really mean or rude person?

I needed a new car in 1987 when I was 41 and looked like a cute little girl with not a brain in her head. I took my boyfriend with me, thinking that they wouldn’t try to pull anything over on both of us. Boy, was I wrong! I liked the Nissan Maxima, so I went to a dealership about 30 minutes from home and was quoted a really good price, but decided I didn’t want to have to go that far for service. I went to a dealer about 15 minutes away, told them what I wanted to pay (I quoted the other guy) and the salesman agreed, but first routed me to the leasing office. After talking with them for a while I said NO I AM NOT LEASING. Went back to the salesman, repeated my original offer and asked if he really wanted to make a sale today. He hum=hawed for a bit, then sent me to “the closer” who had all the paperwork ready for me. I handed him my check for the down payment and then started signing papers. I got to the last one and the price was WRONG and the monthly payments were about $50 higher than I had agreed upon. I pointed out these discrepancies and he started a sales pitch trying to get me to agree to the higher rate, saying how happy I would be to see my new car in the driveway in the morning. The signed papers and my check were on the desk in front of him. I picked up the check and tore it into many pieces. I picked up the signed documents and shredded them. As I left, I said YES, I will be happy with my new car in the morning. We found a phone, I called the other salesman and asked if he could have my car ready for me tonight. By this time it was 9:30 on a Sunday night. He agreed to stay and sell me the car. So my friend drove me the 30 minutes, we met the salesman and signed the new docs without having to give him a check, and I was in my new car that night. The next day I called the guy who lost the sale and told him that the closer cost him his commission, then wrote a very specific letter to the manager of the losing dealership and warned him that if those were their tactics, they would not be in business next year – they were closed in 6 months!

What surprises Russians when they visit the United States?

Russian, living 2 years in small city in USA. So, what surprises me in real America:

Almost no public transit in most areas
Houses are made of wooden boards and drywall but still are not cheap (But mortgage is affordable)
Colleges and education process is very nice
Strangers are friendly, but some still can be rude (like at airport checkpoints)
Some areas are 100% safe to walk anytime, some areas just around the street are 100% unsafe to even drive thru.
Almost no dirt (does not apply to NYC)
Crazy taxes (filing, not rates)
Crazy medical insurance (rates too)
Parks are nice, museums are great
Most food is bad (but most restaurants are good)
High salaries but people live paycheck to paycheck
Internet is expensive and bad
Cheap things, expensive services
Great road system, especially interstate
Communities are great. Fundraises, volunteering, etc. People DO care.
You have to drive 15 minutes to a grocery store. Store is huge. HUGE.
And there you can buy ammo next to paper towels but not cigarettes

List will be all different if you are tourist in big city for a week.

P.S. I really have to add this:

18. Crazy measurements system

The Rise Of NEETs: America’s Unemployed Youth

Gorflautorillas (Phoenix Suns Gorilla’s Flautas)

These are great topped with guacamole and served with Spanish rice and beans.

Ingredients

Flautas

2 dozen corn tortillas
Vegetable oil
5 cups Meat Filling

Meat Filling

5 cups cooked, shredded beef roast
1/2 cup chopped hot green chiles, peeled and seeded (fresh or canned)
Salt, to taste
Pepper, to taste
Garlic powder, to taste

Instructions

Flautas

For each flauta, soften and heat 1 tortilla by dipping it into 2 inches of hot oil. With tongs, hold in heated oil several seconds, or until soft enough to roll.
Spoon 3 to 4 tablespoons warm Meat Filling across center of soft tortilla; roll it.
Arrange in casserole.
Cover dish and place in 250 degrees F oven to keep warm until ready to serve.

Meat Filling

Mix beef, onion and chiles in saucepan and simmer, adding a little water for moisture but not enough to make a sauce.
Season with salt, pepper and garlic powder.
Keep warm.

Shorpy

Don’t Blink or We’re All Gone

John-Paul Cote

BIG IDEAZ

16 February 2032

YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH. I CAN’T.

It is the most secret, most secure facility in the world–it’s thousands of feet under New York City. And the research being done will make us all question our very place in the universe.

=========================

Sindy Chen

Staff Reporter, Big IdeaZ

My life will never be the same. The burden of the secret I know has made me question the meaning of existence itself.

Out of millions of journalists, I am the one that Project Starlight asks to come for a visit.

Project Starlight. I’ve never heard of it and likely you haven’t either. You will find no mention of it in any government documents or reports. You will find no mention of it on social media. You will never find it mentioned in the darkest reaches of the internet. No conspiracy theories. Nothing. This is truly incredible because Project Starlight is working on the most important finding of all time.

I exaggerate not. There is no embellishment in what I am saying. We depend on the devotion of these scientists to maintain reality as we know it.

The elevator ride takes thirty minutes to reach our destination. I wish they had warned me before we started because I need to use the bathroom by the time we reach the bottom. My escort is silent all the way down, refusing to acknowledge me, never mind answering questions. The doors open to reveal a huge concrete area. It looks like a factory floor with machinery and equipment buzzing around. And behind all the action is a set of three massive steel doors. They are easily thirty feet high. Behind them is the universe’s greatest secret, I have been told.

We approach the guard post, controlling the doors. My escort and I hand over our security cards and asked to place our faces in an oval mold. I’m told not to move for my retina scan, and they sampled my DNA from my breath to confirm who I am. The guard nods that we cleared.

With that, a voice comes over a loudspeaker telling everyone to stand back as the doors rotate open. They are at least twenty feet thick with cylinders that interlock them. There is no force in the world that could make those doors move unless they want to.

I am met by an old friend. Dr. Brandon Hawkins and I met at Brown University. I was studying journalism while he was in Theoretical Physics. He smiles, says how long it’s been since we’ve seen each other, and gives me a big hug. I ask him why I’m here. It’s obvious not to catch up on old times.

“I’ve invited you here to blow your mind,” he says.

The reality of our situation? What does that even mean?

“I have invited you here to blow your mind.”

“It will all be clear in a few minutes,” he says. Despite the complexity of what they do down here, the explanation, he tells me, is simple enough but takes time to believe.

After an hour’s tour of the facility, Dr. Brandon and I reach the control room.

This is where it gets real.

Brandon introduces me to the research and technical team. They all look at me in awe, as if I am an extraterrestrial or perhaps a movie star. Out of the crowd, one woman approaches. Dr. Avery Moore.

“This is an incredible event, meeting you finally,” she says.

More and more, I feel this is not just a visit for me as more of the team members come forward and introduce themselves like they are meeting a rock star. I’m not sure how to take this.

This is when Brandon asks if I want a seat. They have something to tell me. I take the offered seat because it feels like I am about to be told God exists and here he is.

I wish that was what they tell me.

The crowd of scientists and technicians continues to stare at me in awe. I shift in the chair uncomfortably as the attention is beyond unnerving.

“What we have found since then is that the existence we believe in is a lie. Reality is a relative thing. It depends on one factor and one factor alone.”

Brandon stared into my eyes, telling me he was being honest and open about what was being said.

“That one factor is you.”

I don’t know how to respond. It sounds like the most ridiculous thing in the world.

“This planet, this galaxy, this universe, and everything in it did not exist until you were born.”

“This planet, this galaxy, this universe and everything in it did not exist until you were born.”

Insanity, pure insanity.

I blink. People seem to jump for a moment as if they believe what Brandon is telling me.

It’s then I notice the two large digital clocks running in the room. One is counting up and the other counting down.

“The one counting up is your current age. The one counting down is the estimated amount of time you have left in your life. That’s our deadline and we are so close to reaching our goal.”

How did this all happen? How can it be true? What about my mom? Didn’t she give birth to me? She must have existed before me.

If they have kept me in the dark this long, then why tell me about this now?

It was hours and maybe days that Brandon and his team show me the evidence. I refused to believe it until I finally did.

This is a lot of pressure to put on someone who is only thirty-eight years old. It is taking time to adjust to my responsibility, but I am.

he looked into my suitcase before i went on a business trip with my boss and found this…

https://youtu.be/l_E3yKSzGn8

What implications would the admission of China to the Comprehensive and Progressive Agreement for Trans-Pacific Partnership have?

As the 2nd largest economy, China’s admission to the CPTPP is good news for the world.

Unlike the US still having those “cowboy imperialist / hooligan mentality” full of “killer and war-mongering instinct” to rule the world, China is not interested to rule the world only to sincerely advocate peace among countries focusing on economic and infrastructure development via “genuine soft power”.

The international community have crystal clear eyes to see that with more than 5,000 years of history, civilisation and culture, China / Chinese are peace loving people after enduring and suffering from centuries of civil wars, WWII from Japan, opium war and century of humiliation from US and the West to be extremely sick of wars.

Unlike the arrogant and aggressive US-led cowboy wild wild West, fond of using forceful means to coerce, intimidate, colonise many countries to blindly follow their unsuitable and inapplicable “western political ideology” China is not interested to be militarily powerful to dominate the world but focus more on the economy to just do what is vital, necessary and essential for the good sake of the world and mankind in a civilised, mature and responsible manner based on justice, righteousness and equality.

China (中国 – Middle Kingdom) / Chinese people have wisdoms, cultures, principles, billion pairs of crystal clear eyes coupled with more than 5,000 years of history to see for themselves and understand that most vital for any country is to have reliable, responsible, rational, sincere and serious leaders to govern the country regardless of political ideology.

China today is well managed by CCP under Xi not only contributed significantly to China over the decades but also to the international community to develop the infrastructure and economies to improve their livelihoods of poor countries all over the world especially in far away Africa and South America.

(Chinese President Xi Jinping presented the Friendship Medal to Dilma Rousseff, ahead of the 75th founding anniversary of the People’s Republic of China, on September 29, 2024.)

It’s high time now for the international community to wake up with crystal clear eyes to see the true colours, hypocrisy and Ugly Sides of America (USA) to adopt the Global Security Initiative (GSI) initiated by President Xi of China to uphold the vision of common, comprehensive, cooperative and sustainable security, pursues the long-term objective of building a security community, and advocates a new path to security featuring dialogue over confrontation, partnership over alliance and win-win over zero-sum.

The GSI embodies the core tenets in the vision of a community with a shared future for mankind, and has been warmly received by the international community upon its introduction. Over 80 countries and regional organizations have expressed their appreciation and support.

China’s foreign policy is always consistent to be friendly to all other countries in the world and China have full diplomatic relations with 179 countries out of 192.

In its foreign policy, China emphasizes the principle of non-interventionism. As a corollary, China asserts that other countries must not involve themselves in matters that China deems as its own domestic affairs.

The Five Principles China’s foreign policy are: mutual respect for sovereignty and territorial integrity, mutual non-aggression, non- interference in each other’s internal affairs, equality and mutual benefit, and peaceful coexistence.

The Pattern Library

A collection of free, downloadable patterns for use in design projects. It’s a great resource for designers or anyone looking for unique patterns.

Patterns

Some examples of the content…

Does the Past Still Exist?

Ah. She’s on the verge of “getting it”.

What’s wrong with CEOs making large salaries, entertainers, and athletes do it all the time?

I don’t think anybody is actually against CEOs making “large” salaries, but in the US, they don’t just make large salaries, they make grotesquely large salaries, here is the problem…

Are CEOs in the US really that much better than any other country? NO.

What has happened to business in the US since the Reagan era is that publicly traded companies in the US have basically become one big grift. The board is filled with CEOs of other companies that then rubber stamp insane pay packages for each other, give each other ridiculous golden parachutes so that even if they tank the company, they have to be paid tens of millions of dollars just to leave.

The grift extends well beyond CEO pay. Since the regulations on stock buybacks was lifted, which was rightfully seen as stock price manipulation, companies have been free to juice their stock, instead of investing back into the company. You get $100m in profits, you buy stock back which then make the remaining shares more valuable and gets rewarded by WallStreet with more investment.

The ONLY thing that drives publicly traded companies in the US is stock price, which means they are de facto controlled by WallStreet. What WallStreet wants, the CEO delivers. WallStreet wants layoffs in order to keep profits at a certain level, so massive layoffs have become normal, not because a company is losing money or headed in the wrong direction, because they want to juice the numbers to make profits look artificially higher or losses artificially lower. This used to be rare, now it’s a tool in the CEO arsenal used with disturbing ease.

What you are seeing is someone elected by the board to run a company, who is then given a HUGE amount of money for doing so, then is told to make their paymasters on WallStreet pleased, which doesn’t give two shits about the health or longevity of the company, just this quarter’s profits. This is what they do, which in case you weren’t sure, the things you do to juice stock price and artificially inflate profits are often diametrically opposed to good health and longevity of a company. This means having at best indifferent and often hostile attitude towards employees, it means cutting costs at ever level, which often results in an inferior product, it means screwing over your loyal customers because it’s temporarily more profitable to do so.

You want to know why things aren’t made as well as they used to be or why companies don’t have the same level of customer service as they once did or why employers don’t give out a golden watch to long term employees? It’s because all they care about is stock price. They don’t care if you give 30 loyal years of service, they’ll lay you off without a second’s hesitation if it would mean having .001% improvement in profits or simply because WallStreet approved of the gesture and rewarded them by not selling off their shares.

That’s the problem with modern CEOs. They are part of one big grift. The people that control the way a company is run is not people with any long-term interest in that company. It’s some ass hats on WallStreet that want to have fun juicing the stock and will gladly sell tomorrow when things go South. The highly paid CEOs do as they are told and are handsomely rewarded. If they push things too far and the stock goes down, no worries, you can just get rid of the CEO by paying him tens of millions, pick another stooge, everyone feels good, stock price goes up and the grift just keeps on going.

Proof Positive

John K Adams

Howard Marks drove onto the Sequentrix Industries’ lot. He’d successfully passed the security gate. The sun had dipped behind the mountain. It felt like he’d driven forever up endless winding roads. ‘Thank God for GPS.’The unassuming low-rise building built into the hillside was a former Buddhist monastery.He’d been called there but not informed of his purpose. He had lots of questions.Not sci-fi, Sequentrix was the most secure research lab in the world. Most didn’t know it existed. Fewer knew its purpose. Hardly anyone knew its location. Yet its government funding exceeded many better known labs. Sequentrix Industries’ administrators had deep connections to Washington D.C. purse strings and power brokers.Located outside of Denver, no one knew how far their network of tunnels penetrated the mountain. A huge dish antenna gathered transmissions from orbiting satellites and beyond.Knowledgeable people presumed Sequentrix Industries researched bioweapons, or worse. Of course, they had their fingers in that. Its research spanned the range of scientific inquiry from quantum physics and into the cosmos. They had money to do anything they wished.Being a world-class journalist, and feared by the powerful, Howard’s summons there surprised him. Research labs avoid publicity, especially Howard Marks’ brand. He knew how to dig for the truth and how to publicize it. This unsolicited invitation piqued his curiosity.Howard traveled wherever the story led. He uncovered frauds and investigated the veracity of ‘conspiracy theories.’ Known internationally, he exposed conmen, politicians, crooks and cult leaders. No one preying on the public felt safe under his scrutiny. His outstanding work had received many awards.Despite death threats he traveled alone. Body guards are cumbersome and draw attention. ‘Moving targets must move quickly.’ Always on the move, he called his suitcase home.Howard’s encyclopedic knowledge enabled him to shine a light where others didn’t dare. He shredded the veil spun by PR hacks and propagandists. His broad fan base sought his incisive and witty essays in print and on social media. He’d recently appeared for interviews on cable news.“My fans are my family,” said Howard in interviews. He kept his personal life private. His family and past had been erased. Rumors of a girlfriend always proved to be empty speculation.No one knew Howard’s spiritual views. Or that he had any. A famous skeptic, his unsentimental skewering of the powerful made most presume an atheistic bent. Someone seeing him in a church pew wouldn’t consider it evidence of faith. Rather, they’d anticipate his debunking some preacher’s wild-eyed prophesies. A clear-eyed champion of the truth, few considered Howard a seeker of divine guidance.His appointment being scheduled for the evening, Howard knew it wasn’t management’s call. The exterior lights came on as he walked across the nearly empty lot.‘What’s this about? Someone gone rogue?’On entering the lobby, Howard encountered a series of security checks. He got frisked, endured wands, and stood for a full body scan… the usual that any airline traveler puts up with, times twelve. He knew cameras watched every movement. How many spooks stared at how many monitors?He stifled a laugh thinking of those running this gauntlet on a daily basis. ‘Are the toilets monitored?’ He knew the restrooms were. ‘But the toilets? ‘Passing an inspection’ takes on new meaning.’Security personnel were not authorized to answer questions or make conversation. Cordial but impersonal, they efficiently moved each visitor to the next station. A smile or a human response could suggest compromised personnel. The cameras watched them too.He made a mental note. ‘Do story on security training standards and the people hired into this growing industry.’While passing through the final checkpoint, a man in a suit approached.“Hi. I’m Malcolm. I’ll guide your tour this evening.”They shook hands.Howard said, “I have an appointment – with Matthias?”

“Yes. We’ll get to him.”

Malcolm led Howard down a brightly lit, corridor and pointed at closed doors. He offered vague, but enthusiastic descriptions of what took place behind each.

Howard knew such delaying tactics well. He wanted Matthias or someone to explain his purpose there. But he kept his frustration in check. He’d found many great stories at the ends of similar rabbit holes.

He had no idea what to expect. Theoretical, or Astrophysics wasn’t a typically scandal ridden. ‘Too many fingers in the cookie jar? Happens all the time.’

Malcolm pushed the down button by the elevator door. He and Howard stepped in. Malcolm pushed the B-7 button and stepped out. The doors shut and the elevator descended.

Howard hoped this was a good thing.

When the door opened, a man in shirt sleeves entered the corridor. Howard saw a bank of super computers in the room behind him.

The man said, “I’m Matthias. Follow me.”

Howard stopped. “Wait. You’re not Matthias. You’re… Not you again. I told you we can’t work together. No more stories blowing up with my name on them.”

He turned to the elevator.

“Howard, wait. This will interest you.”

“Not if you’re involved.”

“It could change the world.”

Howard paused and nodded. He didn’t need to like those he worked with. As a rule, he expected to dislike them. His first priority was getting the story.

Matthias led Howard into the computer room.

Howard watched him. ‘Sometimes even bad pennies pay off. Follow the money.’

Matthias pointed and said, “This is the A-Omega-7 Triple Helix computer. It’s dedicated solely to my experiments. Take a look at our most recent results.”

He handed Howard several folders and pointed to a chair at a table. Opening each in turn, the abstracts were eye opening. Two papers analyzed deep space data reaching back to the Big Bang. The other paper’s topics were impenetrable.

Big Bang, entanglement, weak force, quark – Howard knew the words. But what they meant in context bewildered him – a fact he kept to himself.

“You want me to translate this into English?”

“As only you can.”

“I’m not a physicist. Find someone else.”

“You’re the best. And I owe you.”

Howard nodded and thought, ‘You do owe me. But that was long ago. And we were both victims of circumstance.’

Howard admitted to himself the research was over his head. Hoping for clarity, he scanned down to the abstracts’ conclusions.

After each, he looked up in wonderment. Matthias nodded and smiled.

Matthias said, “Each of these would have stunned Einstein. His work implied this but even he didn’t dream…”

“I’m not sure… You have fingerprints…?”

“Not only. If this were a paternity test, we have His DNA, so to speak, His signature on the birth cert and His address.”

Howard couldn’t hide his confusion.

“The upshot… we have proof.” Matthias raised his arms in triumph.

Howard spread the folders across the table. “But of what? What does this…?”

“God!”

“God?”

“Yes! The Creator. The Almighty. Maker of all things… proof He exists!”

Howard scanned the room in awe. He said, “But wait. You need proof? Isn’t it self-evident? Look around…”

Matthias didn’t listen. “Don’t you get it? When other sites replicate our findings, it will be irrefutable.”

“Yeah, but… well… Welcome to the party.”

“So, the reason I called you in – I need to leak this.”

Howard shook his head. “You can’t leak…”

“It’ll get more attention if people think the government is suppressing vital…”

“I cannot write about it, Matthias.”

“Why not? This is completely under wraps. I’m handing you the scoop of the millennium.”

“We’d lose credibility. It’s not news.”

“Even when the results get objectively confirmed?”

“Maybe especially then. You understand the implications?”

“Of course. You must release this. It will change the world.”

“It might end it.”

Now Matthias looked confused.

Howard sighed, “Look, let’s say you’re right about this earth-shattering news. Everyone will claim your work as their sacred scripture. Wars for possession will rage. They’d claim it points to their god.”

Matthias shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way. No one owns this. It’s a matter of who belongs to God, not the other way around.”

“Sure. Right in principle. But we’re talking about humans here. People always create God in their own image. Reduce the sublime to the ridiculous. These documents would become idols to fight over.”

Matthias saw his point. He stepped back, sobbed and wiped his eyes.

Howard continued. “Once published, critics will claim a misplaced comma disproved your evidence. Thrown out because a zero should have been a one.”

“A typo is easily fixed. The results stand. Once vetted and replicated, people will unite around truth.”

“Believers will say ‘you cannot test God,’ or subject Him to proofs. Confining Him in a computer – an abomination… a fool’s game.”

Matthias opened the electrical panel. “My life’s work… Should I destroy it? Have I done something wrong?”

“Relax Matthias. Look. Some people see a magician pull a trick and won’t believe it’s sleight of hand. Others witness some historical event – like the moon landing – and can’t accept it really happened.”

“I called you in. You seek the truth.”

“Thank you for that. But the truth is out there. Everywhere. For everyone. Written in the stars.” He held up a folder. “These bits and bytes will neither convince a doubter nor confirm the believer. We’re throwing noodles, hoping something sticks.”

Matthias paced in frustration. “You think this is meaningless?”

“Of course not. But God doesn’t need our assistance. He needs the faithful. And their faith weighs more than proof.”

Matthias paused. He flipped through the reports.

“What if these discoveries bolstered people’s faith? This might knock some off the right side of the fence.”

Howard considered the question. Vague, unfocused spirituality was ascendant and deep belief had become an afterthought. ‘Thousands of denominations and no one goes to church.’

“You have a point, Matthias. Everyone’s hot to ‘follow the science’ these days. What if science points to, bows to God?”

“That would open some eyes. Hoped you’d see it my way.”

They nodded. Understanding settled in. Howard cleared the table. Matthias brought a legal pad and some pens.

“Coffee?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

“I’ll make fresh.”

Not yet visible, the sun had brightened the sky by the time Howard left the facility and walked to his rental car.

They had a plan. Howard carried a thumb drive containing the essential reports and abstracts of Matthias’ profound discovery. Matthias trusted Howard to leak it at a time of his choosing. He needn’t wait for the results of other site’s vetting of the data.

Howard smiled. The truth has a way of coming to light.

NEET LIFE

Mexican Stuffed Peppers

Ingredients

4 Anaheim chiles
1 pound ground beef
1 envelope taco seasoning mix
1 package shredded cheese
1 can enchilada sauce
1 medium to large baking dish

Instructions

Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
Brown ground beef.
While beef is browning, cut the top off the Anaheim peppers. Slice down one side of each pepper. De-vein and de-seed chiles to flavor (The more you leave in, the hotter it is!)
Add taco seasoning to beef when properly brown and prepare based on directions on taco seasoning package.
Place pepper, sliced side up, in a medium to large pan for baking. Stuff each pepper with meat and cheese.
Cover all with enchilada sauce. Cover (or don’t – depends on who is cooking) dish and bake for 15 to 20 minutes.
Remove from oven and serve.

What is your worst experience in life?

My weight.

I realize that I’m not really overweight, in spite of what my BMI says.

But I’ve put on 5 kg since the end of med school, and I wish I hadn’t.

It’s not that I think that I’m unhealthy right now; it’s just that if I keep gaining 5 kg every 4 years, things are not going to be looking good in 20 years.

At the end of med school, I weighed about 85 kg. That had been a stable weight. But, during my intern year of residency, we had unlimited, free food at the hospital cafeteria. When you’re really stressed out, and you can have as much food as you want without paying for it, you’re going to eat a lot, if you’re like most people. I was like most people. I gained 3 kg within a year.

I was at that stable weight for a bit, then I saw myself steadily creep towards 90 kg. That’s where I was when I traveled to Europe last summer. It had been a long while since I had been in a place when huge supply of my favorite pastry, the lovely pain-aux-raisins.

main qimg ca7e64a85705360e20f3f1630d4c1a2d lq

So I ate, ate, and ate some more. By the time I came back, I weighed 92 kg.

I’m a physician. I don’t eat all that much. Most days, I have a peculiar form of intermittent fasting where I skip breakfast and either eat a very light lunch or skip it altogether. But I can’t control myself at dinner. Dinner has been my favorite meal for as long as I can remember. And it was my love of large dinners that first made me decide to eat much less at lunch time.

Once upon a time, I was so poor that there was only so much food I could afford. Most meals would consist of Ramen noodles, a chicken drumstick, and a hard-boiled egg. I’d do that twice a day, add some yogurt and cereal, and that would be my entire caloric intake for the day. It’s very hard to get fat on that.

But now, I have to deny myself things I can afford. I also have to deny myself large portions of things I’ve already bought. That last part is even harder. I tell myself that I need to eat it, lest it should go bad. That’s my excuse. I also tend to shop at Costco, where everything is supersized. I should probably cut their steak and salmon portions in half. But I don’t. And so, much as I try to limit my caloric intake, I find that it is all I can do to maintain my current weight.

Basically, it’s as though I feel that I’ve already sacrificed quite enough—thank you very much—and I’m not about to deprive myself of any more food, which is quite possibly my greatest joy in life.

And so, the struggle continues.

What’s a conspiracy theory you secretly believe might be true?

The entire high-end fine art market is one gigantic money laundering scheme.

It’s not that I don’t appreciate art. I’m an academically trained artist, I absolutely appreciate art. And I totally support paying for good art.

But there’s a difference between paying 2000 dollars for an oil painting book cover and paying 6.2 million dollars for a fucking banana duct-taped on the wall.

Yes, yes, I understand the value of fine art is entirely subjective. And isn’t that the perfect front for money laundering?

When I was in China, I heard of this story.

A government official had the power to select the construction company for lucrative infrastructure projects. In his home, he had a display case filled with beautiful jade antiques. One day, a CEO of a construction come visit the government official, and just so happened, the CEO saw this one jade pendant in the official’s antique collection, and he just had to have it. The government official was reluctant to part with his favorite collection, but eventually the CEO made him a cash offer he could not refuse. A few weeks later, the construction company won the infrastructure project.

It wasn’t a bribe, the pendant was a unique antique, priceless. The CEO was lucky to have it. It doesn’t matter none of the items in that display case is actual antiques, but does it matter? The value of the antique is subjective, after all.

That’s how high-end fine art market works. Some snooty “critics” and “curators” with a fine art degree decided this artwork worth 1 million dollars, because “artistic merit” or “unique” or “revolutionary” or “innovative” or “raw”… whatever. And people just pay 1 million dollars for it.

I have a fine art degree, and I think fine art is great. If you truly love it, you should pay for it. You would bring it home, hang it on the wall, and it would fill you with joy, delight your guests, and make you ponder about life. The artwork would be worth every penny you pay for it. That’s what art should be. That’s where its value should come from: its impact on an individual person and/or on our society.

But modern fine art market, those random artworks that sell for millions upon millions of dollars, changing hands from one anonymous buyer to another, being put on display for a few selected rich people, or being stored in some warehouse. People don’t see artworks as artworks. They see it as an “investment.” That’s not art about.

So this is not me shitting on studying, making, selling, and purchasing fine art; this is me shitting on the emperor’s new closet full of expensive, invisible garments.

The entire high-end fine art market is one big money laundering scheme.

How Living in America Became Impossible

Bullets and karmic associations

I have a “thing” about bullets.

My father kept a box, a metal tackle box with a handle, full of all kinds of bullets. It was filled with all kinds of bullets. Indeed, he had bullets that were over a century old.

Big bullets. Little bullets. Massive thick bullets. Weird shaped bullets.

Lots and lots of bullets.

Many of the bullets were all showing their age. With the lead showing signs of calcification, and tarnish on the brass shell casings.

But it was fascinating to look at and go though.

As much as I loved those things, I could never see them. My father kept them hidden and locked away from me.

Now, my father was a “blue pill” pacifist. And he didn’t want me to fight, to stand up for myself; and to own a gun.

Oh, for certain. He was ok with me learning self defense, but only if I didn’t hit or hurt anyone. When he saw me playing football, he would run out and snatch me away and off the field from the rest of the kids.

…

Pacifist with me.

Different with my siblings.

One day, he was showing the bullets to my brother Daniel and then gave the entire box to him. He even gave him a Ruger 22 caliber pistol that he had. As well as a old world war II German rifle that he inherited from his father.

But I got nothing.

Instead, I was warned about the dangers of firearms.

That, if confronted; run away. Never stay to fight. Be a rabbit, and be safe.

I never could understand why he treated my brothers and sisters one way, and myself, was treated quite differently.

I do believe that it might be a personality or horoscope mismatch. Or perhaps karma. Or maybe the shadows of prior reincarnated lives. I really don’t know.

Telling me to be a timid rabbit, and then yelling at me when I followed his orders, and praising my brother and sisters for being aggressive and causing all sorts of mayhem.

This is something, I believe, that we all know and understand in one way or the other. It’s just that we just don’t want to face the ugly truths that it represents.

Relations between reincarnation experiences, karmic entanglements, and injection magnitude when one enters our reality.

Perhaps that is why we have many of the experiences that we have.

Today…

Albondigas con Chipotle
(Meatballs in Chipotle Sauce)

Ingredients

6 fresh, ripe tomatoes, halved
1 pound ground beef
4 tablespoons bread crumbs
2 cloves garlic, chopped
2 whole cloves garlic
3 eggs
2 1/4 teaspoons ground cumin
Sea salt, to taste
Freshly-ground black pepper, to taste
4 chipotle chiles in adobo
1 cup chicken stock
1 tablespoon dried Mexican oregano
2 tablespoons vegetable oil

Instructions

To roast tomatoes, grill or broil them as close to heat as possible, turning as needed, until skin is blackened in spots, about 3 minutes on each side. Cool.
When cool enough to handle, remove skins. Reserve.
Combine beef, bread crumbs, chopped garlic, eggs, 2 teaspoons cumin, salt and pepper. Cover mixture, and let chill in refrigerator.
In a blender or food processor, blend reserved tomatoes with chipotles, stock, whole garlic cloves, remaining cumin and oregano.
Heat the oil in a heavy skillet. Add the tomato sauce, season to taste with additional salt and pepper, and bring mixture to a boil.
Meanwhile, make uniform medium-size meatballs from meat mixture. Add meatballs to simmering sauce and cook about 25 minutes.
Serve as an entree over rice, or alone as an hors d’oeuvre.

on a preparty, my friends mocked him for his appearance, i couldn’t help but laugh but then…

https://youtu.be/wHYbY48CQL0

Shorpy

The Biosphere Project

Jillian Puckett

The sun hung low in the sky as Sarah Mitchell pulled up to the heavily guarded entrance of the BioTech Research Facility. As a seasoned investigative journalist, she had covered her fair share of groundbreaking stories, but this one promised to be her most significant yet. The rumors surrounding the research conducted within those walls were enough to send shivers down anyone’s spine. Today, Sarah had been granted unprecedented access to the lab, a chance to uncover the truth behind the top-secret work carried out there.Stepping out of her car, Sarah adjusted her notepad and checked her camera equipment. She was prepared to document every detail, determined to expose any wrongdoing that may be lurking behind the lab’s fortified walls. A security guard approached her, scrutinizing her identification before finally granting her access.Inside the facility, Sarah was guided through a maze-like corridor, taking note of the reinforced doors and surveillance cameras at every turn. The atmosphere was tense, with scientists in white lab coats scurrying about, engrossed in their work. The air carried a distinct smell of chemicals, hinting at the complex experiments being conducted.Her guide led her into a spacious laboratory filled with state-of-the-art equipment. Sarah’s eyes widened as she observed the rows of high-tech machinery, each with its own purpose and intricate design. She struggled to comprehend the magnitude of what was being developed here.Dr. Rachel Lawson, the lead researcher, greeted Sarah with a warm smile. “Welcome, Sarah. We’re delighted to have you here today. I hope you’re ready to witness something truly groundbreaking.”Sarah reciprocated the smile, her curiosity piqued. “Thank you, Dr. Lawson. I’ve heard so much about the work conducted here. I’m eager to know more.””Follow me,” Dr. Lawson said, leading Sarah toward a sealed chamber at the far end of the laboratory. The security measures surrounding it were seemingly impenetrable, indicating the significance of whatever lay within.As they reached the chamber, Dr. Lawson scanned her identification card, and the heavy doors hissed open, revealing a sight that left Sarah speechless. Inside the room was a massive enclosure containing a lush, verdant landscape. Towering trees, vibrant flowers, and a winding river coexisted within the glass walls, creating an ethereal oasis in the midst of the sterile lab environment.

Sarah’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What is…? How is this possible?”

Sarah’s journalistic instincts kicked in. “But what kind of misuse are we talking about? Are there any risks associated with this project?”

Sarah’s mind raced, realizing the magnitude of the situation. “So, the secrecy surrounding the project was to prevent such misuse?”

it sings to itself

Masha Kurbatova

You, my reader, used to do science experiments. Bianca did too. She got a kids’ chemistry set in third grade, and stained her mother’s rug blue with copper sulfate. Her baby safety goggles imprinted pink into her skin; she looked quite funny as Mother fussed about the rug. Mother wanted a freaky-geeky genius kid. She didn’t want the mess.Hunger coiled like a fat worm in Bianca’s stomach then. She fed it with experiments, mud pies, scabbed knees, Mother’s makeup smeared grotesque onto her babyface. But everyone told her (maybe you too) that this wasn’t right. They said the hunger craved love. Romantic love. Kissy love. Bianca believed them. You did too.Childish hunger transitioned to adolescent obsession. She fed herself her own thoughts about boys who flirted, unthinking, with everyone, never meaning what they said. Bianca’s tweenage diary came with a lock, and was bloodied by her glitter pen, pages and pages of love letters scrawled and unsent.She kept up the habit, and Adult Bianca’s gotten good at writing. She enrolled in grad school– science journalism. That makes her parents happy. The science part, at least.But, something’s wrong now. Adult Bianca feels it. You do too. The hunger never goes away. It lies latent in Bianca’s stomach; she tries to not think about it. You too.She goes out with girls from grad school. They bind their boobs in sleeveless crop tops, wear matching stretchy short skirts, and, stinking of drugstore floral perfume, slink between bars, drawn like giggling moths from one light to another. They gripe about being single. They complain about class. Bianca joins in.One night, they look for a speakeasy. It’s not easy to find. Her five friends circle the block six times, searching for the door.“Google maps said it should be right here,” one insists.

“I mean it’s a speakeasy. They’re like supposed to be hidden,” replies another.

Chicago is smeared with rain, and street lights blot yellow into the night. When lightning crackles, the girls scream. It’s kind of embarrassing.

They finally figure it out: that brick-red piss-stinking door is indeed the entry. Their hair smells wet, their mascara leaks, their shirts clump as they shiver into a dark hallway.

Further down is the bar. It’s dim. The bartenders wear vests. The walls are wine-red and stacked with framed photos of naked 1920s girls. Millennial hipsters eat that shit up. Google users give this place 4.8 stars.

A wooden stage rises a foot high. Tonight, Timmy is playing. The girls huddle around a table spitting distance from the stage. Timmy polishes his trumpet.

The jazz band swings under gold dusty light. The girls sip watered-down drinks. Bianca taps to the beat on her sweating glass. She’s bored, and feels bad about that.

Timmy’s a cool guy. His short hair is cropped close to his skull. Beige trousers sit above his bony ankles. He is long, loose, jaunty. His fingers bounce like fleas over trumpet keys. Bianca likes the music, though it’s the same old covers, “Autumn Leaves” and all that jazz.

“I like the vibe here,” one girl says.

“We should come back next weekend,” coos another.

They do. For seven straight weeks, they return to the speakeasy. Sometimes, it’s just them. Timmy nods their way from the stage, in recognition. Bianca notices he looks at her longer. He smiles, too. She fills delusional diary pages about that. She spins conspiracies about what it could mean. (Reader, I’ll be honest — he just does that. No reason for it).

Class is alright. The journalism part is. The science labs, the mandatory hands-on component, Bianca stumbles through. I think she’d be quite good — steady hands, a head fit for numbers — but she doesn’t try.

The hunger grows. Bianca can’t ignore it. She wants more. When she’s offered a two-week summer stint reporting on research from Venus, she takes it.

The girls go to the speakeasy the night before she leaves. Bianca leans on the bar with both elbows, begs the bartender to come hither with her eyes, but he’s milling about in the far other corner. Bianca just wants another drink, please, and her friend wants another seltzer also.

The night’s show is done. Timme leans on the bar too. The show’s done. He’s parched.

Inches between them feel electric, but Bianca’s sure only she feels it. Timmy is a trumpet player with a few thousand followers, hardly a celebrity, but still, she feels the shyness of being so close to a star. He smiles, a sweaty nod of recognition.

She must say something. “I loved your show.”

“Thank you. What’s your name?”

“Bianca.”

Timmy raises an open palm to the bartender, who floats over immediately.

“Bianca. I’ve seen you at our past couple shows.”

“Yeah. I’m gonna miss the next couple. I’m going to Venus for a few weeks. I’m doing some reporting for my capstone project.”

“You know they call Venus the planet of love?”

A bit corny, Bianca thinks, but the guy’s got a brand to maintain. The bartender sets an amber glass before him. Timmy wipes his middle finger around and around the rim. He picked that up from film-noirs.

“Well, it’s a shame you won’t be here,” he continues. “We’ll miss you at our shows. Tell me all about Venus when you get back.”

“Um yeah. Sure.”

Timmy smiles so warmly. He follows Bianca back on instagram. He says such niceties that border on flirtations and maybe he is serious. She does have a crush on him, the way we all do on talented people we see regularly and from afar. But what’s the point? She’s going to space.

***

Bianca’s parents are of the Earth-bound generation. Her mother had cried into the phone when Bianca first said she was going to Venus.

“Imagine how happy your grandfather will be!” Mother said so sappily.

Grandpa Steve, a former engineer for an oil company, had spent a lifetime collecting pictures and films and tidbits of quotes and facts and snippets of interviews about rockets. Space travel came too late: by the time it was easy, he was too feeble.

Bianca doesn’t think about him. She feels ungrateful. People break through Earth’s atmosphere all the time nowadays — six of her friends went to space for undergrad study-abroads — and also, her first days on Venus suck. Constant sunlight and a slight change in gravity nauseates the mammal within her. She’s in bed, blinds drawn, choking down vomit.

The atmosphere of Venus is damp, rich-scented like mildew. You can breathe there without equipment. Doesn’t mean you should. The air is peppered with spores; they lodge in lungs and spew poison. Bianca doesn’t know. No one on her team does. Four people — her, the two PhD candidates, the senior researcher — spend their time outside unmasked.

Training begins on Tuesday. Does it make sense to measure Venus’ fast orbit and slow rotation in Earth’s days? I don’t know. In this program, they do. All four team members must report to the main cabin for safety procedures, research protocols. There’s five cabins altogether, used by the rotating groups of students, researchers, and occasional tourists that cycle through the planet each month. The cabins are built with aluminum. Four are for housing, and the main, larger one’s for gatherings, and doubles as the lab. The cabins are but a few feet from each other. Bianca can’t make it that far. She still can’t stand without throwing up.

The PhD candidates, Viv and Tom, are tall, with dry muscles like beef jerky. Their brains are scalpels, slicing through the confusion of flesh and sensation, distilling life into spreadsheet data points. They’re young, but older than Bianca. Perhaps they don’t take her seriously because she’s a baby. Perhaps it’s because she’s only the journalist, tasked with the simplest lab stuff, there mostly to — write? Maybe? Either way, no one cares when she’s not at training.

When her space sickness ceases, it’s day four of fourteen. Time for the team’s first expedition. Viv and Tom wear hiking boots and cargo shorts. They’re joined by the senior researcher, a 4 foot something woman with a face like a walnut and a mind like a nutcracker. Her silver hair is in two braided ropes down to her stomach. The trio stands beside the main cabin, discussing something serious. When Bianca shows up, they fall silent. When they take off, on foot, they let her carry the backpack. Inside are vials, machines, measurement tools. Bianca’s not really sure what else.

Much of Venus is green and fuzzy. There’s acres of forests of fungi. The growths rise as high as Earth’s trees, and are shaped like its stalagmites, green rounded pillars soft and moist to touch. The ground is green too, and Viv and Tom’s boots leave deep prints, like walking on wet sand.

The farther they go, the higher the growth. The sun is soon blotted out by a fungal canopy. They’re in the cool heart of an undisturbed forest.

Out come the steel needles, the vials, the long-wired gauges and gadgets, snatched out of the backpack and pierced into the malleable trunks of the largest fungi. Bianca is glad to stop walking. Those three hike so fast.

She watches them work. She tries to take note of procedures. She’d taken a course in astromycology just last semester, but passed only because she sucked up so much to that professor. She has no idea what Viv and Tom and the researcher are actually doing.

They’ve split apart, Viv descending even deeper, hopping over the protruding dark green mycelia. The researcher is prodding a trunk, her hands peeling away fuzzy, as if she touched mold. Bianca stays behind, near Tom. He’s pretty cute. Bespectacled, with a stubbled chin, because geniuses in space have no time to shave. His clothes are kind of crumpled. His young face is already lined; so much frowning from serious contemplation of serious things. He’s like the math tutor you have a crush on.

Bianca considers starting conversation. But he’s deep in a squat, elbows between knees, bending over a device with a glowing screen, writing down numbers in a notebook. She won’t disturb him. She contemplates the scenery instead. She’ll remember all this for her report, the sensory stuff. She’ll catch up on and fill in the science stuff later.

Gold-amber sunlight streams through in strips, highlighting the spores rising like flecks of dust. How similar this dim light is to that of the speakeasy. She breathes deep, wanting to remember the scent. Millions of the spores that will eventually kill her settle inside her with each inhale.

Now, reader, you surely dream of faraway places. Beaches with white sizzling sands crawling with crabs; sun-bleached ruins of older, wiser civilizations; outer space; all-included B&B; arctic cruise liners; the cool arms of a cool girl who really gets you for you. But it’s you that’s there. With all your gross human petty aches and desires, and your small stupid clouded mind stuffed with stereotypes and preconceived notions. Places don’t really change you. Isn’t that sad?

Bianca feels bad, but she’s bored. Tom’s still doing something. She sits down. She yawns. She hasn’t been sleeping well. She thinks about the bed in the cabin, a creaky and flimsy construction she can’t wait to return to. She thinks about her bed at home. Maybe when she returns, she’ll splurge on one of those mattresses they advertise all the time with the cooling foam and the sleep number. It’s premature to think about Timmy in that bed with her, right? Still, she lingers deliciously on that daydream.

It’s only when they return to the lab that she realizes: sitting down stained her butt green. Viv points it out, gently. They laugh.

Viv: “It’s ok! I sat down on my nephew’s chocolate Easter bunny once. It melted all over my jeans. When I got up, he called me poopy pants!”

They laugh more. As Viv removes filled vials and scrawled-over notebooks from the backpack, and Bianca pretends to help, they assume the easy rhythms of girl-conversation.

Tom comes, holding a test tube rack. Seriousness carves into his face. The girls stop laughing.

“Do you know how to prepare microscope slides?” he asks Bianca.

“Um.”

“I’ll show her,” Viv offers.

The lab is cold, bright, gleaming with glass and fluorescence. Viv flits like a bird between stations, grabbing vials and pipettes. She shows Bianca the slides, the steps. Bianca copies like a clever little monkey. This isn’t even hard. She’ll do all the slides, easy.

Viv trusts her pupil enough, and disappears to her bench. Tom clicks away at his own work. Bianca is concentrating. The slides soon hold small samples of fungus, green and translucent commas atop rectangles of glass.

She’s a real scientist, she thinks. This is what being a kid with chemistry set was like, pure focus, exploration, the excitement of near-discovery like a sneeze begging to be expelled.

“Hey, Tom,” Viv calls out. “You should tell Bianca about the time you ate that poisonous fungus.”

“Shuuuuuut the fuuuuuuuck uuuup,” he yells from his corner. He cracks his first white-teeth smile of the trip.

“Mr. Mycology Expert here,” Viv tells Bianca, meeting her eyes over microscopes, “Was sooo sure he knew what edible mushrooms looked like, and we’re on this research trip all over Europe, right, collecting spore prints, and we find one he says he can eat, but I think is poisonous, but he eats it anyway, and we spend the rest of that trip in the hospital while he hangs on to life by a thread.”

“That’s so scary,” says Bianca. To Tom: “Are you better now at figuring out which fungi are toxic?”

Tom rolls his eyes. “Uh, yeah.”

The flow is now three-way. The trio is chatting, passing the ball of conversation quite easily. A window in the lab shows Venus outside, green and swirling, a promise offered and answered. Bianca is here with her gorgeous scientist friends. The world around her is weird and wild. This is what she sought.

Bianca tells them about Timmy. She doesn’t realize how big her movements get. Arms sweeping, eyes wide with her story. A hand flying too fast: contact with the box of slides. They crash, off the lab bench, and spill. The slides splinter.

Bianca: “Oh, fuck. I’m so sorry. I’ll clean it up.”

Bianca, all panicky, seeks the broom. Her anxious eyes pass by it six times before she spots it in the supply closet. Hot guilt bites her cheeks.

She returns, broom in hand. Tom and Viv are bent over the shards. They giggle. Bianca’s soul slides into her stomach, a high school feeling — they’re laughing at her. She comes closer, but they don’t stop, or look at her.

Reader, you’ve seen lovers. They pull on each other like the taffy machine, stretching a great big confectionery rope over and over and back together. Tom and Viv are doing that thing that neither you nor Bianca can manage: hunger so deep for another person that you ask to be fed by them again and again. Lovers always find something to say, tease about, like puppies biting each other to make the other chase. Here too, on the planet of love, they manage. On Venus as it is on Earth.

***

Two weeks are up. The team is going home, back on the rocket. Bianca is held inside it by x-crossing seatbelts. She’s sat by the porthole. A deep dark lonely cosmos stares at her. She stares back with glazed eyes. Her mind is elsewhere. She imagines talking to Timmy. She composes her monologue for him, not her friends, her parents, or her rocket-yearning grandfather.

Timmy, you know how they used to say Venus was unfit for life? I can’t believe how wrong people were, even just a few decades ago. I mean, I suppose we couldn’t have known for certain. No one had ever been here before. But Venus is more lush than any sliver of jungle we’ve remaining on Earth, but with fungus, not trees. I quite like the fungus. I think you would, too. It loves music, just like you. If you lean in close enough to the roots — sorry, the mycelium — you hear this humming noise. It’s singing to itself, I think. I wish you’d been here with me. You would’ve loved it.

How Bianca is so confident that a man she’s spoken to once would love the peculiar atmosphere of Venus, I’m really not sure.

Oh, right — reader, you’re probably worried about the poisonous spores. They’ve lodged in the crew’s lungs. The moisture of the tissue draws forth mycelia, which soon will sprout into thick fungus that chokes living organs.

Fortunately, “soon” is relative. For mushrooms that live millions of year, a human life span isn’t long. It’s 60 years before the fungus sprouts and is toxic. Viv and Tom and Bianca and the senior researcher die from it, but they would’ve been dead by then anyway.

Maybe you wonder, did Timmy and Bianca get together? I don’t know. You tell me. It doesn’t really matter.

Arizona Carnitas with Green Chiles

Spice up meal times with this traditional and popular Southwestern dish. Shoulder meat is best cooked for longer period of time to make tender. Set the table so that everyone can create their own torilla-filled meal.

Yield: 8 to 10 servings

Ingredients

1 (2 1/2 pound) boneless pork shoulder, cut into bite size pieces*
3 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon ground black pepper
1 large yellow onion, cut into thin slivers
1 (4 ounce) can diced green chiles, undrained
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 cup chicken broth
Flour tortillas or corn tortillas
Shredded Cheddar cheese
Chopped tomato
Sour cream

Instructions

Heat oven to 350 degrees F.
Heat 2 tablespoons of the oil in ovenproof heavy large covered pot over high heat.
Add half of the pork cubes; sprinkle with half of the salt and half of the black pepper. Cook pork until starting to brown, stirring often.
Remove pork. Repeat with remaining pork cubes, salt and black pepper, adding more oil if necessary.
Drain drippings from pot.
Heat remaining 1 tablespoon oil in the same pot over medium heat.
Cook onion in hot oil until tender.
Stir in undrained chiles and garlic; cook for 2 minutes.
Return pork to pot.
Add chicken broth. Cover and bake for 1 hour.
Serve pork in tortillas topped with Cheddar cheese, tomato and sour cream if desired.

Notes

* This recipe is perfect for pork shoulder, but any economical cut will work well.

We had no idea how great we had it, back then

My grandmother loved Lawrence Welk the television show.

It seems like a forgotten curiosity at this moment in time. Most people today have no clue as to what and who Lawrence Welk was.

Back in 1981, when I was living with her for a spell, we would spend an hour or so watching this. It was boring to me, but I did enjoy the moment with my paternal grandmother.

It was a variety show with singing, dancing, skits, and light-hearted jokes. Not my “cup of tea” being in my early 20’s. But was really nice to spend the time with my grandmother. We actually got pretty close.

Here’s a glimpse into what the United States once was…

The Lawrence Welk Show – Big Band Days – 10-13-1973

Gosh. After watching this little youtube segment, I too wish to be teleported back to that time. And live a seemingly much simpler life.

Ah. A much simpler life.

Damn! We had no idea how great we had it, back then.

OMG. A much better time.

*sigh*

Today…

American Reacts to Trip Bitten After 12 Years Abroad

This review and added comments are really gold.

As the tech war between US and China has escalated, the U.S. has banned exports of advanced chips to China and restricted U.S. investments in certain technologies in China? How will it affect both of the two sides?

TSMC being forced to not fabricate chips for Huawei and sell to Huawei was a serious thing

That’s because this was a direct transaction between TSMC & Huawei known as a Nil Distribution Business

Where you directly order from the factory

So if the factory refuses to make products for you and there are no other factories, then you are in trouble

The EUV and DUV restriction are serious

Only 6–7 makers in the entire world and easy enough to nob them

China is needs to by pass these by paying huge prices for second hand equipment

The AI GPU Chip ban is an absolute Joke

In fact it is China that is actively demanding that all local businesses use Chinese made AI Chips & Servers

Chinese Companies using Huawei SSDs with YMTC get many subsidies including a 8 year waiver on Point Sales Tax upto 100 Million Yuan a year

Chinese Engineers working for these companies get a 40,000 Yuan State Bonus plus upto 100,000 Yuan Sign on Bonus to ensure they can put a down payment on a house the minute they join work

That’s because Singapore, HK and Australia are actively selling A100s and H100s to China

The only blip is NO SERVICE WARRANTY OR INSURANCE

Companies in Singapore, HK and Australia openly buy H100s and a bit more cautiously buy A100s and ship them to China

NVDIA says “Ahhh!!!! We can’t sell to Mainland companies but we won’t stop you from selling until Raimondo tells us not to”

Raimondo forgot😁

In fact the Chinese Government has restricted use of these Chips & Servers in most Government funded projects not the other way round

China isn’t buying fewer A100s and H100s because of the Ban by US

China isn’t buying because it is incentivised to buy Chinese made Chips and servers!!

Restrictions of US Investments is also a Joke

China doesn’t want US Investment into its Technology today

That’s the truth

The Chinese wages are growing at 5% a year when inflation is 0.5% a year

This means the Chinese are flush with cash!!!!

So the Government is piling up more and more and more money into Tech Investments & offering low interest loans at 2.5% a year

The Chinese have a whopping $ 140 Billion for such investments

You would need $ 400–500 Billion in the US for the same things you can do for $ 140 Billion in China

Why take US money when you have Chinese money piling???

Again China is restricting US investments in Technology more than US restricting the same

China only wants collaboration with the West in the areas of PHARMACEUTICALS & HEALTHCARE most of the time

And Green Energy

And Batteries

New trade routes from Brazil and Russia are putting US farmers, ranchers out of business

South Korea – National Assembly Impeaches President Over Failed Putsch Attempt

On December 3 the President of South Korea Yoon Suk Yeol launched a coup against the opposition ruled National Assembly. He declared martial law and ordered military special forces and police units to block law makers from assembling.

But the assembly members did win the race:

Just 150 minutes after the presidential announcement 191 of the 300 members of the National Assembly voted to immediately end the martial law status. Troops and police entered the parliament but the vote against martial law had already taken place.

A lot has happened since. President Yoon’s defense minister and high school buddy Kim Yong-hyun has been arrested for initiating and taking part in the martial law scheme:

Kim has been accused of recommending martial law to Yoon and sending troops to the National Assembly to block lawmakers from voting on it. Enough lawmakers eventually managed to enter a parliament chamber and unanimously rejected Yoon’s decree, forcing the Cabinet to lift it before daybreak on Dec. 4.

Kim has since tried to commit suicide.

Some of the military commanders who were ordered to implement the martial law have since talked to investigators. They revealed that the martial law scheme had been part of a larger, even more crazy plan which could have led to war with North Korea:

The Defense Minister’s original plan was to provoke an attack from North Korea, then use that as an excuse to declare martial law. To that end, South Korean military flew several drones over the Pyongyang sky, spraying propaganda fliers. North Korea did not attack, however.
…
Initial preparation for the coup began as far back as July 2023, as the military compiled the reference materials for operations under a martial law situation and produced a manual around that time.

Last Saturday President Yoon’s People Power Party had blocked an attempt by the National Assembly to impeach President Yoon. But as more details of the attempted coup came out over the week the pressure from the general public on the party increased. Today another vote on impeachment was held. It received the necessary two third majority:

South Korea’s parliament voted to impeach President Yoon Suk Yeol on Saturday in an extraordinary rebuke that came about after his own ruling party turned on him following his refusal to resign over his short-lived martial law attempt.It is the second time in less than a decade that a South Korean leader has faced impeachment proceedings in office and means Yoon is suspended from exercising his powers until the decision is finally adjudicated by the country’s Constitutional Court.

Following the vote, which sparked jubilation among protesters outside parliament, Yoon conceded that he will “stop temporarily for now, but the journey to the future that I’ve walked with the people for the past two years should not stop.”

“I will not give up,” he said in a statement shared by the country’s presidential office.

Yoon will try to convince the Constitutional Court that he is not guilty of insurrection and should not be impeached.

The court has a number of vacancies. Currently only six judges are available and to impeach Yoon all six would have to agree.

Yoon will however have difficulties to claim that he is innocent:

Senior government officials have testified at various government hearings over the last week revealing some extraordinary details about the night of the martial law order.Special Warfare Command Commander Kwak Jong-geun testified that he received a direct order from President Yoon to break the doors of the National Assembly and drag out the lawmakers, but he did not comply.

Kwak Jong-geun did not comply with Yoon’s order because it was evidently illegal. Martial law does not include the power to prevent the national assembly from fulfilling its constitutional duty. It is something that Yoon, as a former prosecutor, will surely have known.

Any constitutional court ruling in favor of Yoon would thus be purely political and in contradiction to the law.

The South Korean public would, rightly, go berserk over it.

Posted by b at 16:39 UTC | Comments (64)

When You Push a LOYAL Sigma Male Too Far, He Will Do THIS

Barbecued Carne Asada

The secret to this recipe is in the marinade!

Yield: 6 servings

Ingredients

Marinade

1 cup lime juice
1/2 cup vegetable juice cocktail
1/4 cup chopped onion
1 tablespoon snipped fresh parsley or 1 teaspoon dried parsley flakes
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon pepper

Beef

1 (1 1/2 pound) beef flank steak
2 sweet red or green peppers, cut into thin strips
1 large onion, thinly sliced
1 tablespoon butter
12 (8 inch) flour tortillas
3/4 cup salsa
3/4 cup prepared guacamole

Instructions

Marinade

In a medium bowl whisk together all marinade ingredients.

Beef

Place steak in a resealable plastic bag set into a shallow dish.
Pour marinade over steak; close bag.
Marinate in the refrigerator for 3 to 4 hours, turning bag occasionally to distribute marinade.
Meanwhile, cut an 18-inch square of heavy-duty aluminum foil.
Place peppers and sliced onion in center of foil. Dot with butter. Bring up 2 opposite edges of foil and, leaving a little space for expansion of steam, tightly seal top, then each end.
Remove steak from marinade, reserving marinade.
Place steak in center of cooking grate. Grill for 10 to 15 minutes for rare or 15 to 19 minutes for medium, turning and brushing with reserved marinade once halfway through grilling time.
Place foil packet of vegetables on the cooking grate beside steak during the last 10 minutes of grilling time.
Wrap tortillas in heavy-duty aluminum foil; place on cooking grate beside steak during the last 5 minutes of grilling time. Turn tortilla packet once halfway through grilling.
Slice steak diagonally across the grain into thin slices.
Serve in tortillas with peppers and onions, salsa and guacamole.

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5 Myths about the US I no longer believe

Exclusive

Chris Miller

“Rufus! Come in. We loved your latest piece on the migrant situation in the Mediterranean. You’re really broadening the horizons of the readers of the Post.”

“Our readers already have pretty broad horizons.”

“Of course they do. They read the Post!”

“I’m Rufus Kenton from the Washington Post, and you are?”

“Yes! I am. And you are too, Rufus. Both of us present here today. Thank you for coming along. We love your work and we were very keen that it be you who got access to our facility.”

“Ok. Who’s we? I’m going to assume you’re an agent. May I record this?”

“C.I.A?” said Rufus, keeping his words to a minimum and letting his eyebrows do the heavy lifting.

“And you’ve invited me here to work on your tight five-minute stand-up set?” said Rufus, clicking his own pen and opening his note book.

“Relax, Rufus. We love journalists these days, we brought you here so we can work together. We’re on the same side.”

“I’m an independent journalist. I’m on the side of truth.”

“And justice and the American way?” said the agent with a gentle frown of sincerity.

“Sure, but truth comes first. So, what is this place?”

“Why?”

“Exactly! I knew we had the right man for the job. Anybody in their right mind would ask why, and you, Rufus, are going to tell them.”

“I’m going to tell them the truth.”

“Of course you are. That’s your job. Which theory of truth do you currently subscribe to?”

“Truth, reality, I’m going to tell people what I find here today.”

“Nice to know they’re teaching Latin at Langley.”

“Surprised? You don’t think they keep me round just ‘cos I can kill a guy with a pen, do you?”

“Relax! I’m only joking,” said the man. “I wouldn’t need a pen. Are you ready to take a look around?”

“Let’s go.”

“No, it’s in here,” said the agent, opening the door and disappearing through it. Rufus followed him into a room which was industrially dark.

“So, you promise to write about what you find here?” asked the agent.

“Certainly,” said Rufus.

“Good! We need it out there. We need the internet full of it. We need…”

Rufus peered into the black, trying to breathe steadily and control a heartrate that evolution was attempting to increase with every second spent in the vulnerability of sightlessness.

“Surely information is more valuable if it’s true? We have to confirm if things are true.”

“Well, ah, Rufus. So, y’know Socrates, right?”

“I know of him.”

“Well one day one of Socrates’ buddies runs up to him and…”

“Ah Jesus, come on, man.”

“One of his buddies runs up and says, ‘You’ll never guess what I heard about Diogenes.’”

“Just turn the lights on.”

“And it also explains why Socrates never found out that Diogenes was banging his wife.”

“You heard it! Ha! You do understand.”

“Just turn the lights on.”

“Please just turn the lights on.”

“Please.”

“Happy writing, Rufus.”

An analogue clunk announced a staccato strobe and the room bounced in and out of existence before settling into its vast reality. Rufus stood alone in an echo-ready hall. It was completely empty.

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Another Insane Hypersonic Developed By China Shocks The US

Nutri Inc.- 2183

Cecilia Englishby

Willforth had left them halfway through the third course, too anxious to eat any more. Without ceremony he pushed aside a delicate plate of bone china, containing partially consumed quail, asparagus and wild rice, and left the room.

Johnathan Jacob Rush, the most virulent Voice of The People yet, would finally give The People exactly what they needed; the Stability and Peace of Royal Order.

Willforth hated the man, but had to admit that Rush touted his trash with flare. The People listened to him.

“Two whiskeys! Neat!” He commanded of a room in shadows; an unseen valet scuttled to acquiesce.

He poured over the data within the folder, not noticing the drinks silently being deposited next to him. Flicking through the contents, settling on the carefully crafted speech they had edited and returned to Rush earlier in the day. He read each line carefully, looking for flaws but found none.

He unwillingly recalled the headlines contained in the spread of newspapers delivered earlier.

**Rush Hour after Curfew – JJR to beat the Clock at Nutri Inc. Live this Friday @ 22:00.**

**Nutri Inc. on the Stand – Rush to Expose All in Rush Report – 20 Sep 2183**

Thinking of them just annoyed him. He’d seen them and approved them as appropriate material for the sanctioned opposition. Just enough to get them all excited. Yet, he now considered them too brash and questioned his decisions.

“Leave us.” The firm voice of a woman used to being obeyed disrupted his reverie. A handful of servants bowed and curtsied out the door. Willforth glanced up at his Heir and eldest child with hidden pride. She appeared regal this evening.

She made her way to the drinks cabinet behind him, and he listened as she loaded a drinks-cart with liquor, mixers, ice, fruit and an assortment of snacks for the evening. She parked it behind her seat, sat down and took up the whiskey he had ordered for her; taking a sip, she exhaled contentedly.

“Relax father.” Her voice was trained silk. “You’ve executed every move perfectly.” She gestured at the speech in his hands. “It’s a masterful blow; not only to Rush, but The Movement as well.”

This relaxed him enough to deposit the speech back on top of some pictures of Rush kissing a woman that wasn’t his wife, and shut the folder, slotting it away in a convenient nook next to his seat.

“I am glad you approve.” He offered blandly, not wanting her to see his relief.

Rush was just the latest voice of descent amongst Willforth’s people, no different from the last, yet… he somehow made Willforth uncomfortable. Willforth had considered silencing him, but had opted for breaking him instead. He wanted the voice of Descent to become one of Order.

“The photos brought it all together” his daughter voiced, disrupting his thoughts once more.” We’ve never been able to get anything on him before them…”

“Evelyn, It took years.” He downed his glass in one gulp. She took it off him and leaned back to fill it as he spoke. “But one lucky lady managed to catch him with his pants down.” He chuckled wryly. “Old Martin told me his face went as white as sun-bleached bread when he showed Rush those photos… He said Rush actually begged!” Willforth didn’t hide his pleasure in knowing that the mighty Rush had been reduced to his knees.

“He’s human after all!” Evelyn cheered. “And where there is smoke, there’s fire… I bet there are other women out there…”

Willforth just smiled at his Heir, she certainly understood the value of a hefty blackmail folder.

“You know; all we really need is the one true story.” He tried to sound wise. “Rush is ego driven, and has staked everything on a pristine reputation. People like that trip easily, and they fall hard.”

“I suppose we could get a collection of fakes set up. If we spin the one solid bit of evidence as though he’s actually a rotting corpse of a degenerate….” The wheels in her mind were spinning. “Then Old Martin should have no problem recruiting a couple of vultures to add voices to those lies.”

“That’s a good idea. If he ever steps out of line, we’ll bury him.”

“Hmmm.” Evelyn affirmed through pressed lips as she took another sip of her whiskey. “Till the day that becomes necessary, his pristine reputation is Ours to utilize.”