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

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

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!

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!

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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.)

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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.

China Sanctions US Again and False Flag South Korean Coup

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.

The 3 Year AI Reset: How To Get Ahead While Others Lose Their Jobs (Prepare Now) | Emad Mostaque

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.

8 Charts That Will Change The Way You See Dating

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.

The 8 AI Skills That Will Separate Winners From Losers in 2025

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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“Took a Secret Trip to See ‘My Friend’ — My Husband Found Out and Left Me”

Married girl fucks up.

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…

Trump WARNS Of US Economic DEPRESSION In 2025

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

When Men Say NO to Being the Backup Plan

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

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)

AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic No 0(5)

AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic No 3(4)

AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic No 2(4)

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AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic No 3(9)

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AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic No 0(9)

AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic No 3(8)

AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic No 2(8)

AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic No 1(7)

AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic No 0(8)

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AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Ba 0(1)

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AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic No 3(1)

AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic No 2(1)

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AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic No 0

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AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic No 1(9)

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AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic No 0(11)

AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic Ba 2(1)

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AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic No 0(7)

AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic No 3(6)

AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic No 2(6)

AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic No 1(6)

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AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic No 3(5)

AlbedoBase XL Create a anatomicallyaccurate photo realistic No 2(5)

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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

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.

main qimg a4a5caaf97e8e02b208f55a948860b49 lq

Professional supply of CPC cadres, Chinese government cadres, diplomat, PLA cadres, not available in the market.

To Bake Under the Sun

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

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?

main qimg b22b1caeba35829e614f4f6a1bf43f8b

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

OMG the MM Personal Computer went into the pearly gates of the has-been

Well, I had a complete computer crash.

BIOs cannot find anything.

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

My computer was a “boat anchor”.

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

Took the time.

Drove to the local mall.

Chose between Honor, Huawei and Shaomi brands.

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

*sheech*

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

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

Shaomi Redmi 14 to a Shaomi Redmi 16.

But I stepped down some on the performance.

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

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

And because of this, I installed Microsoft Windows 11+

…AND…

Lunix Mint Cinnamon at Wilma 22 build on it.

So I have a dual OS option.

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

Anyways…

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

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

With much more detail later on.

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

Today…

NEVER QUIT. |Powerful Motivational Speech For Success.

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

by English Outsider
lifted from comments

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

complete AFU withdrawal from the DPR [Donetsk People’s Republic], LPR [Luhansk People’s Republic], Zaporozhye and Kherson Oblasts;

recognition of territorial realities as enshrined in the Russian Constitution;

neutral, non-bloc, non-nuclear status for Ukraine;

its demilitarization and denazification;

securing the rights, freedoms and interests of Russian-speaking citizens;

and removal of all sanctions against Russia.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Do you want to hear the truth or lies?

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

The truth.

Let me first state that I am Chinese.

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

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

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

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

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

If you ask which company has better drone technology?

………………

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

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

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

Let’s go and develop sixth-generation machines.

Tex-Mex Chicken Melts

Yield: 20 servings

Ingredients

Canape Bread

1 (11 ounce) package refrigerated French bread dough

Filling

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

Instructions

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

Attribution

Pampered Chef

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

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

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

But there is one thing nobody has mentioned.

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

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

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

It said Monosodium Glutamate.

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

And instantly I knew the secret to the steaks.

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

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

Gate M41

Liv Chocolate

This story contains sensitive content

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

“Hi, Mary. It’s me, Mary.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

She looks at the suitcase. “Straight cash?”

“It’s the only way to deliver it.”

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

“Sure.”

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

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

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

“You’re so lucky.”

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

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

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

***

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

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

“How was it?” asks Ted.

“Good.”

“Did she take the money?”

“Yes.”

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

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

What’s your opinion of Roland Bartetzko?

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

Key Aspects and Crimes:

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

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

Shorpy

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

No it is not.

The Greed of Man

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

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.